CANA
CLUDHMOR
LEVIATHAN MOVEMENT THREE
a mini-opera for soprano and piano
This is a story of love, music, invention, new beginnings and a whale skeleton, told as an extended song or mini-opera, around 20 minutes length. The plot for the opera comes from a medieval Irish manuscript.
Having had enough of her annoying husband, Cana leaves and runs to the sea. Here she is soothed to sleep by the extraordinary sound of wind blowing through whale bones. To win her back, her husband creates a harp for her, inspired by the sound and structure of the whale skeleton. This becomes Ireland’s first harp. The original story doesn’t say what Cana thinks of this gift, but how could she be anything but swept off her feet!
In my piece, we meet Cana many years after the events of the original story, where she is now performing as a poetess and singer of renown. At a concert, she tells the story in her own words, addressing her audience as A stór (my treasure). The music is contemporary, exciting and virtuosic, with hints of Irish music woven throughout. Through the work the piano plays the roles of musical narrator, harp, loom, ocean and whale, incorporating several extended piano techniques to create the sounds. The role of Cana is for a true performer and story teller, who loves engaging directly with her audience.
This piece will become the third of four movements in my major work LEVIATHAN, inspired by whaling in Encounter Bay South Australia. More about Leviathan…
This is the original story, as it appears in the 1592 manuscript and translated to English in the 19th century.
" I will perform," said a man in the house, " an art for thee." " What is the art?" says Marvan, " and who art thou ?" "I am a good professor in my art to Seanchan, and Casmael the harper is my name." " I question thee, Casmael," said Marvan, "whence originated the science of playing the harp ; who was the first that composed poetry, or whether the harp or the timpan was the first made?" " I don't know that, prime prophet," said Casmael. " I know it," says Marvan, and I will tell it thee.
In former times there lived a married couple whose names were Macuel, son of Miduel, and Cana Cludhmor (or of great fame) his wife. His wife, having entertained a hatred for him, fled before him through woods and wildernesses, and he was in pursuit of her. One day that the wife had gone to the strand of the sea of Camas, and while walking along the strand she discovered the skeleton of a whale on the strand, and having heard the sound of the wind acting- on the sinews of the whale, she fell asleep by that sound. Her husband came up to her, and having understood that it was by the sound she had fallen asleep, he proceeded into an adjacent forest, where he made the frame of a harp, and he put chords in it of the tendons of the whale, and that is the first harp that ever was made.
Libretto
And so it is - you question me, “whence came I to play the harp. How came I to learn poetry?”
A stór I know it, I will tell it thee.
This hall it is where you hear my fine harp, ringing like moonlight on a far mountain stream
But my first song was bones by the sea
A stór I know it, I will tell it thee.
Now see me young, As wild as a salmon
And now a young bride, To Macuel the weaver,
Hush now my treasure, Hush now A stór. I will tell it thee.
From morning to night, He at his loom, And have me spin thread
And sit at his side, And speak not a word, And not have me sing.
Not even one note. No flue in his fire and how my eyes sting.
Then me wild as a salmon, now come away in the night
through woods and dark wilds away and away all the way to the strand of the sea
I will tell it thee - to the strand of the sea!
And then the wind up. What music is this? What can this be?
Míol Mór - whale bones singing on the shore
Singing from the wind blowing through the sinews still on the bones
Singing of all we once lost now come home.
I crawl under the better to listen.
Perhaps my eyes weep. Perhaps my eyes close.
Then the wind dies, the music grows silent. I awake.
What What What can this be?
Macuel the weaver has followed me down to the sea. All the way down to the sea.
watching me sleep beneath the whale bones
Husband, what’s that you’ve got?
What’s that in your hands? What have you done?
While I was sleeping, Macuel the weaver, who would not have me sing, not even one note,
Had gone to the forest and found a tree bough, curved like a whale bone
He threaded the sinews, like warps on his loom to make a harp.
For me to carry the whale song with me.
What then my A stór? What then? By the sea
Macuel and me under the whale bones.
I know it, A stór but I will not tell it thee.
And now it is I play my harp
For warriors and mighty kings.
But in my dreams I still hear the whale bones singing
A stór I know it, And now I’ve told it thee.