NEO’s 2023 thematic launch point is that of Recurrence: a deliciously, inspiringly-cyclical cocktail of philosophical and poetic threads that unravel into one another over and again. Fantastically, the conversation around recurrence tends to repeat on itself quickly and often. As soon as we get our heads around part of it, we lose sight of the rest. The 2023 N.E.O. composers responded to “Recurrence” in ways that repeated on each other. Many explored improvisation, there are multiple reflections on celestial recurrence, and everyone elucidated meaning and purpose in some way. We organized the program celestially, beginning with early evening, moving through night, and then to daylight. Each programmatic moment reflects the others, revealing the poetic core of recurrence.

Derek’s “Lunar Raveling” awakens us into recurrent space with improvisatory drones and cycles. Singers are encouraged to explore sets of potential sounds, repeating them in festive sequence with others. Max explores the myth of Sisyphus. We push our metaphoric boulder up a hill with a technique that asks singers to choose their own pitches while being rhythmically aligned. The choir reflects on everyone’s Sisyphus journey while the soloists illuminate humanity’s continual recounting of death as a counterbalance to boredom. Also drawing from Greek mythology, Elliot presents a moment in Ovid’s “Metamorphosis.” The text describes varied trees on its surface, but to Ovid’s audience, those references have deep connection to other stories. As the treble voices march forward in their arboreal descriptions, ever increasing in vocal range, we feel a connection to a past we struggle to identify as it circles around us.

As we move to the darker night, Kion invites us to explore the repetitive mental states of depression through Sam Aldape’s poem, written for this program. Small musical cycles create waves of sound over which melody and text drift in time. Richard’s “La La” follows, taking us deeper into recurrent mind spaces with the use of subtle vocal gesture and percussion. The ensemble leaves the space full and buzzing as Scott takes the stage for Molly’s “Eclipse.” Both singer and composer connected around stories of their relative’s past. The piece presents a struggle to find something that we have already been given through the eyes of a frustrated child and the response of a guiding voice. This section ends with Jamey’s compassionate “Connection.” Molly, the soloist, picks up the struggle Scott left in the air as the choir asks her, and each other, “are you ok?”

Part 3 sheds sharper light on these struggles beginning with Megan’s “Press ‘1’ to be enlightened.” Abigail moves back and forth between an A.I. voice and the voice of someone struggling to be heard. As she yells at the world we hear a human clarity of purpose that carries us into “ʻōʻō.” Daniel uses altered megaphones and vocal improvisation to thrust us into the mixed emotional space of remembering an extinct species. We are enthralled in primal sounds even as we are forced to reckon with human destruction to the planet. Abigail’s improvisatory matrix increases the justice energy. As the singers respond to prompts that guide them into group reaction spaces, we hear a growing call to action and group solidarity. The confused sum of a people calling for change becomes a cohesive unification of purpose. Encouraged to action, we are met with David’s “Unattainable.” In a constantly mixed metric piece based in water imagery, layers of flowing roll over layers of flowing. We return to the recognition first introduced at the beginning of the program in Max’s piece. As with Sisyphus, “Unattainable” asks us to decide how we will respond to these meta-cycles of life. Will we frustrate ourselves with the task at hand, or find joy in the pushing, pushing, always pushing? Meg’s “Cloud’s Tale” offers a form of release to that question. The three performers create around one another, telling a story of discovery and creativity through a child’s lens. We see and hear what we choose to see and hear, from clouds to justice, and the cycle repeats. The concert ends with JoEllen’s “Niagara.” It’s a playful frolic as much as a recognition of human frailty and smallness in the universe. Up against the mighty falling waters of this “Sorceress of Sound”, we chatter and sing and the water keeps on tumbling down. ~David Harris