Scott Ordway: The Outer Edge of Youth
Acis

Scott Ordway's The Outer Edge of Youth (2020 is described as “a response to the toxic masculinity in our culture,” yet while it is that it's many other things too. A moving and thoughtful meditation on the loss of childhood innocence, the self-awakening that immersion in the natural world can bring, and the pain of discovering thesuffering that exists in the world, the work explores these and other themes on this world premiere recording. The American composer calls it a choral opera, a piece that can be performed in concert by a chamber choir or as a fully developed stage work by an opera company. It's “more dramatic and character-driven than a traditional oratorio, but more poetic, contemplative, and abstract than most contemporary opera,” in his words. Regardless of the label attached to it, The Outer Edge of Youth is an expression of great power, imagination, and originality.

Commissioned by The Thirteen and its founder, American conductor Matthew Robertson, the work, its music and libretto both by Ordway, is performed by the group along with two exquisite singers, soprano Amy Broadbent and contralto Emily Marvosh. More than a vocal ensemble, The Thirteen includes eight singers, three cellists, and a double bassist. The vocal soloists acquit themselves splendidly, but so too do the eight in The Thirteen. As one scans the fable-like story-line, names such as Aesop, Thoreau, and Whitman might well spring to mind. Structured as a two-act work of five scenes, it's set in an unidentified forest. Two boys nearing the end of childhood, Nicholas (Marvosh) and Sebastian (Broadbent), discover they can understand the voices of birds they encounter within it. As the story advances, the two engage with them in conversation and, after witnessing a foxes' wedding ceremony, question the birds about the mysterious nature of love. Moving deeper into the forest, they come to an orchard littered with white apple blossoms and are overwhelmed by the beauty of the setting; in the darkest episode, they encounter a doomed bear caught in a trap, her cubs sitting helplessly by, and are now consumed by suffering and angry at the birds for exposing them to such a horrible sight. The boys' subsequent reactions differ: Nicholas begs the birds to make him one of them to be free of human pain, a wish they grant and that allows him to acquire a sense of peace; after initially leaving the setting, Sebastian returns to find Nicholas missing. Upon asking the birds to tell him where his friend has gone, Sebastian discovers that while he still hears the birds singing, he can no longer understand their words. Despite mourning the loss of his friend, he takes comfort in realizing Nicholas has found peace in the forest in a way that he never would as part of humankind. Sebastian's choice, on the other hand, brings with it the acceptance of pain and suffering that adulthood will eventually bring.

Musically, The Outer Edge of Youth possesses a sincerity and solemnity that in moments calls Arvo Pärt to mind (see the austere dignity of scene three's “Chorale: the litany of the birds,” for example). Like Ordway's other works, this one is a serious, earnest, and authentic creation. From a hushed prologue, the work progresses through a series of becalmed, agitated, and plaintive passages and builds in cumulative force. The vocalists and instrumentalists engage with the score deeply, the vocal soloists stunning and The Thirteen impressive too. The pairing of soprano and contralto makes for a clear separation between Broadbent and Marvosh, and their voices complement one another beautifully, whether they're exchanging lines or singing in unison. They excel in solo spotlights too, with Broadbent ecstatic in “Monologue and response: Sebastian's longing” and Marvosh desperate in scene four's “Dialogue” and then tender in “Monologue (the first goodbye).” Ordway's music soars during the fifth scene's “Monologue and chorale,” the final part a glorious solo vehicle for Broadbent. In one of the work's most powerful moments, the music transitions during this closing section from a resounding climax to a stirring, poignant end.

Ordway's liner notes merit reading for the insights they offer into a work he says “celebrates the imaginative world of two young boys who think, and discuss, and feel” and is his “response to the monolithic depiction of masculinity in our culture, which is largely the same regardless of whether that masculinity is being celebrated or critiqued.” Certainly one of the influences on artistic production is personal experience, and being the father to two young girls has no doubt exerted a huge impact on his creative world. Seeing every day the innocence and wonder in their eyes while also being reminded of the impossibility of wholly re-entering that state as an adult has to play a big part in anything Ordway creates.

December 2022