Aaron Siegel & Tracy K. Smith: We Are Free

Bishop Chantel Wright conducts her ensemble Songs of Solomon along with soloist Michele Kennedy in a workshop performance of "I will tell you..." (photo by Aaron Siegel).

As the calendar flips to November, 360° of Opera is thrilled to embark on a journey through time and artistry. We had the privilege of sitting down with composer Aaron Siegel and former U.S. Poet Laureate and Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Tracy K. Smith, the brilliant minds behind the upcoming world premiere of I Will Tell You The Truth About This, I Will Tell You All About It.

This 50-minute oratorio, adapted by Siegel from Smith’s poems, delves into the forgotten voices and narratives of African American soldiers who fought in the American Civil War. The performance will feature an ensemble led by soprano Michele Kennedy and the chamber trio Longleash. Kicking off the evening, Smith herself will recite the featured texts. Join us in exploring the inspiration and dedication that have gone into crafting this extraordinary event.

Poet Tracy K. Smith and Composer Aaron Siegel

How did you both first meet and decide to collaborate on setting Tracy’s poems to music? Who initiated the idea for this oratorio project?

Siegel: In 2017, I set a poem of Tracy’s called “Gospel: Manuel” for a collaboration with soprano Michele Kennedy. Michele sang that duet with the baritone Dashon Burton at a recital that year. I sent the video of that song to Tracy, she liked it and suggested that I set the series of poems in “I Will Tell You The Truth About This, I Will Tell You All About It.” It has taken a couple of years, but we are finally ready to premiere this full oratorio, with all 10 poems from the cycle represented.

Smith: I’ll also add that, from the time that I wrote “I Will Tell You The Truth…” I had been feeling that it needed to be embodied in some fashion by voices other than my own. The poem comes directly from archival letters written by African American soldiers and their family members during the Civil War. Some address each other with encouragement or news from home, others write directly to government offices seeking support and information. Another strain of the text is derived from deposition statements made after the war—sometimes well into the 20th century—by veterans and their survivors seeking pensions for their service in wartime. When I discovered this archival material, I at first thought I would read and internalize it in such a way as to write a poem in my own voice—but then it started to speak! I heard the breath and the life-force of actual people whose stories, it seemed to me, were not finished. Their lives, their experience of injustice, and their hope in the promise of democracy seemed to me like a torch they were passing forward to me, and whoever else I could invite to listen, as a way of lending a hand to our nation’s unfinished business. That’s the conviction that emboldened me to ask Aaron to set another poem—and a long one at that! I wanted to invite our nation to sit down at the feet of these believers in the promise of freedom.

Tracy, how did you select the poems for this oratorio? Did you approach Aaron with a clear vision of how you envisioned the embodiment of community on stage, or was it a collaborative process in shaping this aspect of the work?

Smith: This is a poem built of actual Black voices from the existing historical record. I wanted the community onstage to reflect the poem’s deliberate centering of these lives. But it is also an American story—relevant to all of us who make our homes here in this nation—and so I am glad that the musicians can also remind us of the breadth of America.

Why did you choose the oratorio format, as opposed to a song cycle or gospel music? Did historical religious associations play a role in this decision?

Siegel: As an experimental composer, and one generally not too tied to tradition, I am drawn to the words, like Oratorio, that represent different musical traditions. I call this piece an Oratorio, but I am not certain that I am writing an oratorio in the traditional sense of that word. I make a lot of theater works with music, too, and I wanted to contrast the listener’s experience of “I Will Tell You The Truth…” with the operatic experience. The performers aren’t wearing costumes, and there are no sets and lights. This is a concert experience only. In that way, it automatically evokes more of a religious tone.  Certainly, my interest in modal harmony also connects to more chant-based music. But I was not hoping to create a religious experience any more than the texts that Tracy wrote hint at one.

Smith: Silence is a powerful facet of any poem, and I hear a potent silence—one filled with awe, one also attuned to the forms of institutional disregard that kept many deserving veterans from claiming their pensions, and one also attuned to the many voices not captured in an archive whose stories are of urgent necessity to us today. I think the oratorio form, which feels sacred and solemn, matches the tenor of these voices and their pleas.

Aaron, did you make decisions regarding tonality and instrumentation, such as choosing between a soprano and a baritone and opting for a piano trio instead of a full orchestra?

Siegel: Most of the poems in this series are written from an individual perspective. So, in a sense, they have the relative tessitura, as related to gender, baked into them. That being said, I made some decisions about whether to give a section to a baritone or tenor, mezzo or soprano, mostly based on how I decided to approach the tonality and conceptual frame for the section. One of the things I love about writing for voice is the puzzling out of vocal and diction clarity. I appreciate the restraints of vocal range, text rhythms and sounds. When I can listen to what is present with the singers and the texts, I usually find a workable solution for all of these competing elements. It’s the fun part of composing. 

And what genres and artists in particular did you draw inspiration from for this work? What’s similar to your previous works, and what has evolved?

Siegel: I consider myself to be an experimentalist, even though much of my music leans heavily on fairly traditional notation and sound production techniques. I like tinkering with and exploring the juxtaposition of musical styles from over the centuries. For instance, there is a solo movement for tenor in the oratorio that has the rhythm and tone of a lighter piece. So, I wrote what I think about as a lilting fox-trot for the ensemble and singer. This section is surrounded by a movement on one side that sounds like a baroque Passacaglia and on the other side by a movement that sounds like a minimalist recitative. I don’t feel beholden to one particular style or approach. There is something wonderful about the whole of musical history being available to call on depending on what the moment requires.

How has this work evolved since 2019, particularly the added movements? Were they part of the original plan?

Siegel: I always intended to write all 10 movements for the oratorio. When an opportunity came up to workshop five of the movements in 2019 at The Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture in Harlem, I reached out to my friend and colleague Bishop Chantel Wright about having her group of young singers, Songs of Solomon, perform the work with soprano Michele Kennedy and baritone Eric McKeever. I set most of the movements involving the choir for this first concert, because it felt important to understand how the choir dynamics were going to work.  I really wanted the choir to stand in for the experiences of black soldiers and their families who suffered and faced challenges during that Civil War period. That is one of the powerful things about a choir—together, their voices can stand for something bigger than any one of the voices.  The new pieces I wrote for this upcoming premiere also include many choral moments, but there are quieter, solo vocal movements in this newer batch, that focus the intensity of the storytelling.

Smith: The poem cycle hasn’t changed since 2019, but it is now part of a larger cosmology of poems emerging from and seeking to speak back to lives and questions that refuse to be contained by the archive. In fact, my newest book of prose, To Free the Captives: A Plea for the American Soul extends from this very preoccupation: that history is not gone, not finished, and not behind us; it is up ahead, urging us to catch up, to keep pace and help get the job done.

What were the highlights and unforeseen challenges in the creative process?

Siegel: Everyone who answers this question has to say that the pandemic was a challenge. It took me a while to get back to working on the music and to set up this premiere at Merkin Concert Hall at the Kaufman Music Center. The time between the workshop and this premiere (four years) was also a bit of a gift, too. I enjoy working on different parts of the same piece over time.  I grew as a person during a four-year period, and I think those changes are reflected in the music.  So, it feels like the audience has a chance to experience that growth and development as well.  It makes the whole piece feel like a journey rather than some kind of pure statement of the moment.

Smith: The highlight for me is always witnessing how another creative imagination inhabits and expands my work, bringing it into multiple dimensions, and into dialogue with community. Yes, the pandemic certainly slowed things down, but I find myself feeling grateful in so many ways for the occasions to gather on this side of that upheaval. I think this work in its finished form will be a beautiful “campfire” around which to come together.

Tracy, in an era where many scrutinize whether art accurately represents history, you view history as a vehicle for art. What significance do you find in revisiting this historical period in our current age, marked by polarization and heated discussions about race and ethnicity? How do you see art contributing to the endeavor of fostering community and mutual understanding, or is there a different objective you seek to achieve?

Smith: History is vital to our understanding of the conflicts and decisions in which we (often by no choice of our own) are implicated. Each new glimmer of evidence, each new echo of lives once lived in this place, should change our understanding of where and who we are, what we owe to one another, and what we can hope for.

My art has always been interested in where and who we are, what we owe to one another, and what terms of hope we might claim. I suppose it was only a matter of time before I came to understand how useful—how essential—history is to grappling with these and other artistic questions. And I find it fortuitous that I’ve become so invested in the archive at a time when many politicians and local school boards have embarked upon campaigns of censorship and historical revision. These attempts to distort and erase African American history reminds us that there are many in this nation who remain keenly invested in the hierarchies of power and race codified during the Antebellum and Jim Crow periods. Perhaps they are right now pushing back against the renewed momentum of human rights and social justice movements. Among poets, there is surely a great and growing uptick in the number of creative projects we might describe as examples of documentary poetry. Those seeking to silence the past, like those of us looking with new hope toward our nation’s history, are doing so because we understand that there will always be more to tell.

What I love about engaging history via art forms like poetry and music, is that these practices move us viscerally, emotionally, unconsciously. They act upon the fullness of our beings, and they linger in us. A musical work might seem to sleep in you for a long time, but eventually something wakes it up and you begin to hear and feel and even understand it anew.

Longleash Ensemble: Violinist Pala Garcia, Pianist Julia Den Boer and cellist John Popham (photo by Pascal Perich).

“I Will Tell You” SIngers (clockwise from upper left): Michele Kennedy, Veronica Chapman-Smith, Guadalupe Peraza, AnnMarie Sandy, Gregorio Taniguchi, Andrew Fuchs, Dana Whiteside, Wayne Arthur.

We invite you to experience the magic of this oratorio by joining us at Merkin Hall on Thursday, November 2, 2023, at 7:30 PM for the world premiere, which promises to be a captivating evening that weaves together history, art, and the resilience of the human spirit.

- written by Chloe Yutong Yang