CFAMC LISTENING PAGE #43: Seth Colaner

A monthly musical offering by a composer memberof the Christian Fellowship of Art Music Composers. Both your listening and comments are encouraged.

MAY 28, 2008

Seth Colaner: "The Lost Book of Hawkgirl" text by Ryan L. Futrell & P. Kevin Heath; performed by Hope Fairchild Thacker, mezzo-soprano, Heather Fairchild Simmons, flute

PROGRAM NOTES

“The Lost Book of Hawkgirl” is a song set written on texts by Ryan L. Futrell and P. Kevin Heath. The familiar comic book character of Hawkwoman is examined through various imagined episodes in her more human life: going to the prom, a first job, disillusionment in her marriage, etc.

STATEMENT OF FAITH

I believe that God gives different gifts, talents, and abilities to all people.  In return, we are asked to embrace what we have and to develop those qualities to their fullest.  Being redeemed means being given the responsibility and the power to reflect God's excellence in all things.

BIO

Seth Colaner studied composition with Steven Winteregg, Donald Busarow, Mark Engebretson, and Tom Dempster at Wittenberg University and the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Upon completion of his Master's degree in 2007, Seth took a cue from Charles Ives and bid farewell to academia in favor of a career in tech journalism, which supports his insatiable composing habit. 

TEXT

1. Hawkgirl after prom

They're out all night, one party then the next. She's never dance this much before. Not like this -
as if it were the end of something.

Then they drive on out of town in his yellow Barracuda, up the Blue Ridge Parkway, where they pull off at an overlook to watch the sun come up - hard light on the horizon like men on horseback.

The race back down the mountain with the top down. The cool dawn air in the their lungs. The radio off. Not talking. The western slope a long, slow curve of darkness.

They are pushing sixty, seventy.

In the valley they slow to a halt on a low stone bridge, the river below as dull and flat as hammered tin.

And then it happens, another dawn. Another sun come up, a new beginning. Young light mousing its way through green trees, through a heavy mist from the river.

“At least that's something,” he says. “Twice in a day.”

“Trouble to come, I'm sure,” she says. “Like a bird in the house. Bad omen.”

Later, in her mother's kitchen, she is still wearing the dress she made herself. The house quiet
with a strange anticipation, waiting for a curse.

They eat an entire strawberry-rhubarb pie without speaking. They eat and eat and eat - gorge
themselves until there's nothing left but crumbs, until their lips are puckered from the dour
rhubarb and glistening with sugar.

2. Hawkgirl takes a vow

She is running in the gravel on the shoulder of the road. He's looking down at her from the bus.
She wears a hooded grey sweatshirt, army boots, a backpack she's filled with books.

3. Lunch and the origins of Hawkgirl's self-awareness

In college she works a summer job removing insulation from old, leafy buildings around campus.
She gets used to the heights and the heat - comes to like the good, strong smell the leather
gloves leave on her hands.

She is a deer among bears. She knows what she knows about working with men.

Sometimes asbestos dust drifts into her thermos cup when she reads Dante during lunch break.
On the surface of her coffee, the dust motes glitter like distant metal planets.

“Bottoms up, kid,” the men say when they catch her staring too thoughtfully at her drink or her
book.

“Here's to the bull that roams in the woods, you know? Hair on your chest. Go on. Break's almost
up. Close your eyes and down the hatch. It ain't like nothing's gonna kill you or something.

4. Superwonk

Superman on his knees, hands above his head gripping a chrome lat pull bar, pushing air out,
drawing air in. wonder Woman on the red vinyl bench press, knees drawn to her chest, painting
her toenails a shiny blue while Atom sits at the foot of the bench, towel around his neck.
Hawkwoman is alone in the corner, climbing ever higher on the Justice League's old Stairmaster.

“True or False,” Superman says. “ 'Stairway to Heaven' as the greatest song ever in the flute rock
genre?”

Silence. He does on last, slow rep. stands. Rolls his shoulders.

“Anybody? True? False? Flute rock? The answer is true. Super true.”

Atom stares at Wonder Woman's nails.

“It's always true, Kent. Always, true,” he says.

“Check me if you don't' believe it then. Wonder Woman? Please?”

She caps her polish, sighs, sticks a finger in the air.

“Ding,” she says. “Superwonk thinks he's right again.”

“Knows he's right,” he says. “I meant with the lasso, Di. You knew that. C'mon. Simple request.”

“False,” Hawkwoman thinks to herself. “False by a mile. 'Spill the Wine.' Eric Burdon and War.”
She is flasing back to a summer day in 1973. Alone with the Whip in the basement of his parent's
house. Bottles on the window ledge. Empty Blatz boxes in the corner. Playboy centerfold over his
father's workbench. Remembers leaning against the couch to read the liner notes. Remembers
Whip stringing tennis racquets. The record player loud. The jazzy little Latin groove the flute lays
down. “Como azul cosa de locos, pero asi es, bueno.”

“They say that's Hendrix's girlfriend doing back-up”, Whip is yelling as he shuttles a cross string from one end of the racquet to the other.

5. At a dark hour of her marriage, Hawkwoman cuts her hand on a broken
drinking glass while washing dishes. Her thoughts turn to Shakespeare.

(So how speaks this bloody dishrag? And what does the chicken fat in the drain portend? Or the
coffee grounds wrapped in newspaper? The cherry pits drying on the windowsill? He would leave
you all his walks, his private arbours, his new-planted orchards. Plainly read: this poor Brutus has
had wrong from a counterfeit Portia. And your next big scene? If you had harbored tears until this
unkind cut, prepare to lose an ocean now.)

6. The members of the Justice League of America play dominoes late into the night

They're sitting at the picnic table in the front yard, playing dominoes, pretending to be old men -
unbuttoned linene shirts and crazy hats. One Cuba Libre right after the other, digging in the bone
yard of nostalgia.

She knows they can hear her through the open window pecking away at her mother's ancient
typewriter. Knows they're imagining her up there in her thin tee-shirt and flower-print cotton
panties.

Superman wins and stands up on the table, throws down his old straw hat, and dances a jig.

“He's doing the Jerk, He's doing the Fly…Papa's got a brand new bag.”

And they know he's dancing his way right into the poetry of hers - fresh ink on the new paper
Hawkman bought her for her birthday.

Later she brings them plump ripe grapes in a wicker basket and tells them all to get inside.
Storms on the horizon. They shrug and keep on drinking. Pull their dark socks up around their
calves. Slam those bones down hard. Storms ain't nothing they ain't seen before.

(reprinted with the authors' permission)

- - -  SOLI DEO GLORIA!  - - -

For comments, e-mail Seth directly at: swcolaner@yahoo.com. Visit Seth's website at: http://www.freighttrainmusic.net/sethcolaner.html

If you are a member composer interested in submitting a composition for an upcoming monthly CFAMC listening page, please contact Bill Vollinger at: williamvollinger@aol.com

For recent CFAMC Listening Pages, go to the following links:

April 2008: Mavis Pan
"Olives That Have Known Pressure"
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cfamc/message/1852

March 2008: AJ Harbison
"I Am Phoenix"
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cfamc/message/1840

February 2008: Andrew Sauerwein:
"Weaving"
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cfamc/message/1832

January 2008: Walter Saul:
"Emmaus"
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cfamc/message/1800

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Christian Fellowship of Art Music Composers
New Music. New Life.
website: http://www.cfamc.org
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