London bombings: music to console and heal

Scored solely for brass and drums, the piece consists of a simple phrase repeated twice. The first time we hear it, it is quiet, foreboding and dark - then, with a roll of drums and at twice the volume, it is a searing lament. To my ear, this March goes closer to the core of grief than either Barber or Elgar’s music - it resonates with our sadness. Sometimes, we don’t necessarily want comforting, but instead to know that we are not alone in feeling the way we do - and to know that someone has expressed these emotions far more eloquently than we ourselves might be able to.

There has been a great deal of excellent music written more recently to commemorate suffering, but none of it has resonated with the same force as Barber’s Adagio, or Elgar’s Nimrod. Take for instance Krzysztof Pendercki’s Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima which is emotionally powerful, draining music but so removed from traditional tonal music that for many people it is an uncomfortable experience.

John Adams’ On the Transmigration of Souls, commissioned by the New York Philharmonic after September 11, 2001, features tape loops, narration, large chorus and symphony orchestra … but doesn’t have a single melody you can hum. It runs for 25 minutes and is a beautiful, moving piece of music: but again, is not going to enter the public consciousness as a musical touchstone. Even Purcell’s funeral music, powerful and moving as it is, has not achieved the same widespread recognition as Elgar’s Nimrod.

The remaining question is, of course, when an Australian composer is going to produce a piece that meets the same criteria that have made the Adagio and Nimrod so universally loved - familiar enough to be easily recognised and remembered, and strong enough to bear the burden of repeated listening in difficult times. Perhaps due to the relative infancy of Australian art music, we’re only just beginning to see this kind of “public music” entering the repertoire, best typified by Ross Edwards’ powerful and enchanting Dawn Mantras, performed on the sails of the Sydney Opera House at the dawn of the new millennium. I eagerly await the day that we have our own Barber, Elgar or even Purcell, to help us grieve and to provide, in Slatkin’s words, “unity through music”.