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Muhly, Nico Lorne ys my likinge
Score for sale (North America): https://www.halleonard.com/product/viewproduct.action?itemid=14047922 Score for sale (UK, Europe and other territories): http://www.musicroom.com/se/id_no/01122654/details.html?kbid=1296 Information about the work and materials for hire: http://www.musicsalesclassical.com/composer/work/56201
Chester Music Limited Part of the Music Sales Group
Lorne Ys My Likinge is a setting of the 19th Chester Mystery Play, which imagines Mary Magdalene, Mary of Jacob (the sister of the virgin), and Mary Salome (the mother of James and John) at Christ’s tomb. There, they weep, and are confronted by two angels with the faces of children. Like many passiontide texts, this play is simultaneously violent, still, empassioned, and mystical. I tried, as Britten so wonderfully did in his Abraham and Isaac canticle, to capture the drama of this moment as well as the more shimmeringly tense presence of the divine. The two voices here do not actively sing one role or another; indeed, they swap lines with one another, and sometimes one voice will create a halo of wordless sound around the other’s more declamatory text. In addition to a more traditional accompanying role, the piano interjects with electrical jolts, most notably at the beginning of the setting. The angels sing in a much more chromatic style — I’ve never entirely bought the idea that angels should be peaceful choirboys; instead, I’ve always imagined them as frightening, mysterious, and highly stylised. The piece ends in a state of suspended animation, with Mary Magdalene asking why she herself is not dead and buried. The piece is dedicated to Iestyn Davies and Allan Clayton, both extraordinary singers, musicians, and friends.
Text taken from
The Chester Cycle Play XIX MARIA MAGDALENA Alas, nowe lorne ys my likinge. For woe I wander and handes wringe. My harte in sorrowe and sighinge ys sadlye sett and sore. That I most loved of all thinge, alas, ys nowe full lowe lyenge. Whye am I, lord, so longe livinge to loose thy luxonne1 lore? MARIA JACOBI Alas, wayle awaye ys went. My helpe, my heale from me ys hent.2 My Christ, my comfort that me kent, is clongen3 nowe in claye. Mightie God omnipotent, thou give them hard judgment that my soveraygne hath so shent,4 for so I maye well saye. MARIA SALOME Alas, nowe marred ys my might. My lord through whom that I was light shamefullye slayne here in my syght! My sorrowe ys aye unsought. Syth I maye have no other ryght of these dyvelles that have my lord so dight, to balme his bodye that ys so bryght boyst5 here have I brought.
ANGELUS PRIMUS What seeke ye women here with weepinge and unlykinge chere? Jesus, that to you was deare, ys rysen, leeve you mee. ANGELUS PRIMUS This ys the place, therfore be apayde, that Jesu our lord was in layde; but he ys rysen as he sayde, and heathen went awaye. ANGELUS SECUNDUS Hye you, for ought that may befall, and tell his disciples all; and Peter allso saye you shall there fynde him that you maye. MARIA MAGDALENA Ah, hye wee faste for anye thinge and tell Peter this tydinge. A blessedfull word we may him bringe, sooth yf that hit were. MARIA JACOBI Yea, walke thou, suster, by on waye and we another shall assaye tyll we have mett with him todaye, my dereworth lord so deare.
MARIA MAGDALENA Suster, which of us everychon shall remove this great stonne that lyeth my sweet lord upon, for moove yt I ne maye?
MARIA MAGDALENA Heathen will I never, syckerlye,6 tyll I be comforted of myne anoye and knowe where hee is readelye. Here will I sitt and weepe.
MARIA JACOBI Suster, maystrye ys hit nonne. Hit seemes to mee as he were gonne, for on the sepulcher sytteth one, and the stonne away.
ANGELUS PRIMUS Woman, whye weepest thou so aye?
MARIA SALOME Two children I see ther sytting — all of whyte ys there clothinge — and the stonne besydes lyeinge. Goe we nere and see. 1. worthy of love 2. taken 3. held fast 4. disgracefully 5. (ointment) case
MARIA MAGDALENA Sonne, for my lord ys taken awaye and I wott nere, the sooth to saye, whoe hath donne that thinge. Alas, whye were I not dead todaye, clought7 and clongen under claye to see my lord that here laye once at my likynge? 6. certainly 7. to become drawn, wither, decay
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