Meditations on the natural world in the midst of the climate crisis may be the in vogue theme at the moment but this new song cycle from musician and composer Mel Mercier entitled Earth Sonnet (14 September, 1pm) chose a novel starting point from which to examine this subject. Taking place in the library of the Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies (DIAS), the premise of the work was the long-wave vibrations of the earth itself which can only be picked up by seismographic instruments such as those in operation at the DIAS. An amplified sample of such sounds accompanied the audience into the performance space and lingered throughout Mercier’s settings of seven newly composed poems in English, Irish and Shona.

While the overall performance had its own ritualistic rhythm, the individual settings were so distinct from each other that, to someone not familiar with Mercier’s work, they could have been composed by different composers. The opening setting of Paul Muldoon’s ‘Dismissal’ for instance featured the actor Mikel Murfi miming to a recording of the voice of hip-hop artist Cara Cullen; this piece was in the style of a pop song accompanied by a track of intermittent beats that created a disorientating sense of otherness. This then segued via an ambient drone into Iarla Ó Lionáird’s more introspective rendition of Mercier’s setting of Gerry Murphy’s ‘Monard Midsummer’. The ever-present seismic hum reduced in volume but didn’t disappear entirely for Caoimhe Ní Fhlatharta’s performance of Aifric Mac Aodha’s ‘Tá d’athair ag adú tine, a chroí’, a straightforward strophic song with a beautiful, lilting melody. Each song utilised a different vocal style and combination of instruments from Mercier’s ensemble MÓNCKK that included several gamelan percussion instruments alongside clarinet, rebab, traditional fiddle, bass guitar, electric piano and electronics.

Kelly Boyle, Dylan Gully, Mikel Murfi and Claudia Schwab in Earth Sonnet (Photo: Olga Kuzmenko)

Rhythms and stasis
Amidst such exuberant heterogeneity, some of the songs perhaps attempted to pack in too much. For example, the minimalist-style electronic music for the setting of Zimbabwean-born Irish poet Kayssie K’s ‘Ndamuka Urimusakasaka’ blended well with her own recorded vocalisations and really brought out the rhythms of the text. Less convincing, however, was Murfi’s accompanying techno-style dance moves that seemed somewhat out-of-step with the overall stasis of the performance.

Mercier certainly has an ear for well-shaped elegiac melodies that particularly suited Ní Fhlatharta’s voice and shone through most clearly in his setting of Jane Clarke’s ‘Dandelion’ and the aforementioned poem by Mac Aodha. In both of these songs, Greg Felton’s tasteful piano accompaniments and Dylan Gully’s soulful clarinet playing greatly enhanced the melancholic tenderness of the music. 

The overall feel of the performance did recall a certain 90s-style postmodernism where modern and folk styles happily co-existed in various genre-bending concoctions along with overtones about cosmic energies and mystical intercultural connections. However, this never tipped over into outright new-ageism and an underlying sense of otherworldly wonder tied the individual songs together. Indeed the contemplation of the earth’s subliminal forces, rather than sounding the alarm bell of imminent disaster, is what seemed to constitute the work’s ultimate message. With this in mind, and at just under an hour, one could imagine the entire cycle transferring well to recording in the format of a concept album which may be Mercier’s ultimate intention. 

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