So, so interesting, folks! There are three components: the text, the composer, and the dedicatee.
First, the text, a psalm from the Jewish Bible/Christian Old Testament that celebrates God’s omniscience and omnipresence. I have been fascinated with the way the composer, Will Baily, used just a few lines from this psalm. Familiar as I am with the passage, I had never really thought about the specific meanings of some of the words. Working on the song has made me look a little more closely. For instance, what are the “wings of the morning”? Honestly, that question had never occurred to me before. Most commentators say that they’re the sunbeams that stream up from the horizon as the sun rises; indeed, a number of translations use the phrase “wings of the dawn.” Those wings are going to take the speaker to “the farthest sea” or, in many versions, “the uttermost parts of the sea.” There’s a rich visual here: the sun rises in the east; the sea (which for the ancient Israelites would be what we call the Mediterranean Sea) is to the west. So the imagery has the speaker flying, literally, at the speed of light from the east horizon at dawn as far west as the eye can see, but God is there before him. And if the speaker feels overwhelmed by the darkness, he can be reassured that it is no barrier for God. I was reminded of a phrase from the Christian New Testament: “God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.” (I John 1:5 NIV)
What of the composer, Will Baily? I am always curious about how commissions are assigned. Brian Leatherman, the current conductor of the Cherry Creek Chorale, has this to say: “Will Baily was in grad school at UNC and I heard a song cycle that a friend premiered. I liked his music and asked him to write the piece.” Baily chose the text himself, as members from that time recall, Nowadays he is still heavily involved in teaching music, in particular piano, holding music camps and developing piano curriculum as well as teaching individual lessons.
But on to the dedicatee of the piece, JoAnn LaCouture. Several Chorale members shared wonderful stories about her, and I want the rest of this piece to focus on her. JoAnn (I hope it’s okay for me to call her that even though I never met her!) was the Chorale’s second accompanist. According to one long-time member, Margaret Beardall, she came along at a time when our group really needed a calm, steady set of hands at the helm as well as the piano: “She was an angel. . . . just what we needed. So classy, so calm, so talented.” She very much took the fledgling choir under her wing, and she always sat at the piano during performances even if she wasn’t accompanying that particular piece, because she was convinced that “we wouldn’t be able to sing unless she followed along in the music with us.” At one performance that habit of hers saved the Chorale from a singing disaster:
In the performance of an acapella double choir piece we had gone so far off pitch that the altos and basses couldn’t sing the notes anymore. Dick Larson, in the middle of the piece, cut us off, and pointed to Joann for the new pitch, which she played perfectly because she knew where we were, and we started up again where we had stopped. I was mortified. But Dick later said that the audience didn’t know the piece and they wouldn’t realize that we weren’t supposed to cut off there. The fact that she knew exactly where we were absolutely amazed me!
JoAnn seems to have embodied the principle that “no matter what is going on around you, keep your cool.” But that ability to stay calm and focused didn’t mean that she was cold or unemotional. Another longtime member, Jann Folsom, tells the story of the Chorale’s performance at Carnegie Hall in 1995 when the group had its own 20-minute set before the main concert. JoAnn was to accompany on the Steinway grand, and the production manager at Carnegie called Jann to ask where JoAnn wanted the piano located onstage. When Jann asked what he thought would be best, the manager replied, “Well, Van Cliburn likes his piano a little bit stage right and if that works for JoAnn we will place it that way.” Needless to say, Jann agreed, thinking, “If it is good enough for Van Cliburn I am sure it will be good for JoAnn!” And how did JoAnn react when the conversation was related to her? She screamed with “absolute glee” and almost fell off her chair.
Here’s the scene that sticks with me, though, again from Jann’s memories:
The Chorale had our own private dress rehearsal time on stage at Carnegie before our pre-concert musical set. One of the many special moments during this most amazing time was watching JoAnn as she sat down at the Steinway on stage, placed her hands on the keys, tears gently running down her face, and began to play.
What better retirement gift, then, for a musician of this caliber than to have a beautiful piece of music commissioned in her honor? JoAnn was reportedly quite pleased with it. Getting to know her a little bit from the above anecdotes has certainly deepened my appreciation and understanding of the piece as a whole. I first joined the Chorale at the beginning of the 2012 season, and we sang it in the October concert, which centered around music with a Colorado-related theme. I knew nothing about Will Baily or JoAnn LaCouture; I remember vaguely noticing the dedication at the top of the sheet music, but that’s all. The piece itself is gorgeous; you don’t need to know all this personal background to appreciate it. But how much more it’s going to mean to me now, seven years later, when I’ve found out all this great stuff! I hope you feel the same as you read this.
Here’s a link to JoAnn’s obituary. And while I don’t have an individual video to post, here’s the concert video that has this piece as the second item on the program–at about 3:15. (Sorry about the terrible video quality, but the audio is fine.)
© Debi Simons
