You once made the statement, “I hear my music as singing.†What do you mean by this?
YW: “My music essentially comes from a vocal impulse. Music, for me, has a strong rhythmic component, but above all, it is singing lines. That doesn’t mean that they are little ‘sing-song’ lines, like jingles and simple folk songs. But the essential impulse is not instrumental; it is from the human voice and the energy that’s required to produce a sound . . . and the effort, also, to somehow lock into a kind of instinct that many of us have for tonality, which makes things memorable and which enables us to sing things.
“My father was a great composer of Jewish art songs, the ‘Franz Schubert’ of composers writing art songs to Yiddish poetry. That was the music I was surrounded with growing up (along with all the classical and the American vernacular elements, of course).
“My father drew on elements of melody and cantillation that went back to the Hassidim in eighteenth-century Poland and Russia, to cantorial elements that went back to the 1700s and, much more remote, to traditional cantillation, which goes back many, many centuries, possibly a millennium or so. The continuity I retain from this is very important to me.
“The contact with my father’s music also puts me in contact with a language that is native to me. I grew up with parallel English and Yiddish. My native Yiddish puts me in touch with a culture that is kind of a lifeblood. (Actually, it’s a culture that is greatly in decline, largely because of the Holocaust.) The contact with my father permits me to maintain a kind of unbroken connection with my roots.”
You were quoted in The Boston Globe as saying, “Any time I come to some kind of impasse, I would return to this of idea of what I love about music. That sustained me.†What is it that you love about music?
YW: “[I love] music that somehow, for whatever reason, penetrates to an area of your being, that shocks you, that moves you, that touches you, that brings tears or laughter or understanding AND that you can retain, that you can remember.
“I can be interested in lots of complicated music. I adore Boulez; I sometimes am very interested in Stockhausen, and sometimes the music of Ligeti really shocks and moves me. But those are not the kinds of music that normally reach my core.
“With my father, sometimes I would go to music concerts, and a moment would come in the piece, maybe by Verdi or by Brahms, and my father would turn to me and say, ‘How simple.’ He meant that there was something essential, memorable, penetrating and deep, and, almost always, spiritual about it.”
What do you hope listeners hearing The Lord is close to the heartbroken will take away with them?
YW: “I think there is an overall spiritual essence to life itself. One of the great Jewish philosophers said that life itself is, by definition, holy. Life is holy. I believe that. My life is devoted to trying to add something to the world, trying to help people, trying—although it can be difficult sometimes—to love. To love 'the things of this world,' to love my colleagues, the work I do, my family, my children, my grandchildren, and of course, my wife. And, if there were a cat in the house, the cat.
“When people hear this Psalm, I want them to get a sense of celebration, of thoughtfulness, a sense of the all-encompassing feeling of a holy, spiritual, aspiring hopefulness.”
"[Wyner] is a composer with a fiercely independent spirit, a modernist who believes that serious music can and should still bring sensual pleasure. His works are vital and capacious, often finding fresh ways of wedding extremely visceral expression with a refined sense of craft ... He is one of the most actively engaged composers you will meet."
- Jeremy Eichler, The Boston Globe"