Ko-Oh (2014)
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Duration: 25 minutes
Instrumentation: 2(2+pic)2(2+eh)3(3=bcl)2/4221/tmp, 2pc, hp/solo viola/strings
Commissioner: Korean National Symphony Orchestra
Performance History
9/30/2015, Korean National Symphony Orchestra w/ Yura Lee (va) & Hun-Joung Lim (director), Zagreb, Croatia
10/2/2015, Korean National Symphony Orchestra w/ Yura Lee (va) & Hun-Joung Lim (director), Bratislava, Slovakia
10/4/2015, Korean National Symphony Orchestra w/ Yura Lee (va) & Hun-Joung Lim (director), Linz, Austria
Instrumentation: 2(2+pic)2(2+eh)3(3=bcl)2/4221/tmp, 2pc, hp/solo viola/strings
Commissioner: Korean National Symphony Orchestra
Performance History
9/30/2015, Korean National Symphony Orchestra w/ Yura Lee (va) & Hun-Joung Lim (director), Zagreb, Croatia
10/2/2015, Korean National Symphony Orchestra w/ Yura Lee (va) & Hun-Joung Lim (director), Bratislava, Slovakia
10/4/2015, Korean National Symphony Orchestra w/ Yura Lee (va) & Hun-Joung Lim (director), Linz, Austria
Program Note
In 2010, I read two interesting articles on lullabies. One asserted that the most effective way to induce sleep in babies is to play a recording of the heartbeat of their mothers. The other concerned a contest of lullabies (to see who could get babies to fall asleep the fastest) in Vienna, Austria in the 1970's. The contest winner was a Korean folk lullaby sung by a Korean grandmother. Whether or not the articles were reliable, they were inspiring enough for me to compose a piece about them.
The actual composition process, however, was not begun until March 2014. That was when I heard that my father had cancer, a diagnosis that pushed me to complete the piece, hoping that my father could attend its premiere. I realize now that this piece is basically for my parents and also for their generation in South Korea – essentially everyone who deserves a quality rest after their arduous day.
My idea quickly expanded into becoming a pseudo-requiem – not a real one, which I would love to save for later. One can easily draw a parallel between sleep and death, and therefore between lullaby and requiem as well. Coincidentally, the tragic sinking of the MV Sewol with hundreds of secondary school students occurred on April 16th, 2014, which lead me to further ponder the mystery of life and death.
The overall structure of Ko-Oh reflects a daily cycle (night-day-night) or that of a life (birth-life-death), with its symmetrical slow-fast-slow movement arrangement. In addition to the slow tempo, the first and the last movements have a handful of characteristics in common, such as their tonal center and iambic (short-long) rhythmic figuration. The latter is a shared feature of the heartbeat and the Korean lullaby, which are the significant inspirations of the first and the last movements, respectively.
The first movement begins with repeated low drum sounds (heartbeats) giving birth to the breathing sound. From there, the solo viola part emerges and evolves into a quasi-improvisatory and exotic melody, which foreshadows the lullaby in the last movement. The nocturnal mood continues in the relatively more active middle section. Descending lines emerge from high, metallic sounds, like light from twinkling stars, and get interwoven complexly to culminate in a turbulence. Towards the end, the long descending line of the solo viola gradually sinks back to the dark and calm beginning.
The frenetic second movement titled “busy, busy!!” is about the reason why we need a good rest: long, hectic days. It is full of ascending and descending scales and glissandi at various speeds, which could symbolize the entangled life. One might easily hear traces of the blues, because I, in an effort to compose music meant to be comforting, immediately thought of incorporating elements from spiritual songs. At the end of all the dazzling twirls, the viola alone keeps dancing until falling into a faint.
A modified quotation of the Korean folk lullaby and its further variations are heard throughout the last movement. Like other lullabies, it is simple and comforting with limited pitch material and a repeated rhythmic pattern. Sometimes, however, it would sound intense and expressive, which I also tried to incorporate in this movement. At the end, the solo viola plays the last phrase and fades out completely alone, as if everyone else is sleeping.
Ko-Oh was written for the Korean Symphony Orchestra while I served as their composer-in-residence. It will be premiered by the same orchestra with violist Yura Lee and the conductor Hun-Joung Lim on the 30th September, 2nd October, and 4th October 2015, in Zagreb (Croatia), Bratislava (Slovakia), and in Linz (Austria) respectively. I thought the viola would be the perfect center with its diverse expressive quality. It can sound like a birdcall in the nightfall, a girl forced to dance continually in her red shoes, or a grandmother's lullaby.
Ko-oh (코오) is Korean baby-talk, meaning "sleep." Below is the transcription of the original Korean lullaby with its English translation.
Sleep, sleep, our baby.
Sleep, sleep, our baby.
Don’t cluck, chickens,
Our baby might get awake.
Don’t bark, puppies,
Our baby might get awake.
close program note
In 2010, I read two interesting articles on lullabies. One asserted that the most effective way to induce sleep in babies is to play a recording of the heartbeat of their mothers. The other concerned a contest of lullabies (to see who could get babies to fall asleep the fastest) in Vienna, Austria in the 1970's. The contest winner was a Korean folk lullaby sung by a Korean grandmother. Whether or not the articles were reliable, they were inspiring enough for me to compose a piece about them.
The actual composition process, however, was not begun until March 2014. That was when I heard that my father had cancer, a diagnosis that pushed me to complete the piece, hoping that my father could attend its premiere. I realize now that this piece is basically for my parents and also for their generation in South Korea – essentially everyone who deserves a quality rest after their arduous day.
My idea quickly expanded into becoming a pseudo-requiem – not a real one, which I would love to save for later. One can easily draw a parallel between sleep and death, and therefore between lullaby and requiem as well. Coincidentally, the tragic sinking of the MV Sewol with hundreds of secondary school students occurred on April 16th, 2014, which lead me to further ponder the mystery of life and death.
The overall structure of Ko-Oh reflects a daily cycle (night-day-night) or that of a life (birth-life-death), with its symmetrical slow-fast-slow movement arrangement. In addition to the slow tempo, the first and the last movements have a handful of characteristics in common, such as their tonal center and iambic (short-long) rhythmic figuration. The latter is a shared feature of the heartbeat and the Korean lullaby, which are the significant inspirations of the first and the last movements, respectively.
The first movement begins with repeated low drum sounds (heartbeats) giving birth to the breathing sound. From there, the solo viola part emerges and evolves into a quasi-improvisatory and exotic melody, which foreshadows the lullaby in the last movement. The nocturnal mood continues in the relatively more active middle section. Descending lines emerge from high, metallic sounds, like light from twinkling stars, and get interwoven complexly to culminate in a turbulence. Towards the end, the long descending line of the solo viola gradually sinks back to the dark and calm beginning.
The frenetic second movement titled “busy, busy!!” is about the reason why we need a good rest: long, hectic days. It is full of ascending and descending scales and glissandi at various speeds, which could symbolize the entangled life. One might easily hear traces of the blues, because I, in an effort to compose music meant to be comforting, immediately thought of incorporating elements from spiritual songs. At the end of all the dazzling twirls, the viola alone keeps dancing until falling into a faint.
A modified quotation of the Korean folk lullaby and its further variations are heard throughout the last movement. Like other lullabies, it is simple and comforting with limited pitch material and a repeated rhythmic pattern. Sometimes, however, it would sound intense and expressive, which I also tried to incorporate in this movement. At the end, the solo viola plays the last phrase and fades out completely alone, as if everyone else is sleeping.
Ko-Oh was written for the Korean Symphony Orchestra while I served as their composer-in-residence. It will be premiered by the same orchestra with violist Yura Lee and the conductor Hun-Joung Lim on the 30th September, 2nd October, and 4th October 2015, in Zagreb (Croatia), Bratislava (Slovakia), and in Linz (Austria) respectively. I thought the viola would be the perfect center with its diverse expressive quality. It can sound like a birdcall in the nightfall, a girl forced to dance continually in her red shoes, or a grandmother's lullaby.
Ko-oh (코오) is Korean baby-talk, meaning "sleep." Below is the transcription of the original Korean lullaby with its English translation.
Sleep, sleep, our baby.
Sleep, sleep, our baby.
Don’t cluck, chickens,
Our baby might get awake.
Don’t bark, puppies,
Our baby might get awake.
close program note