From the opening time signature and tempo - 288 bpm in 5/8 - you know this is going to be bonkers and glorious fun. Gjeilo's swirling, stormy score complements this Draumkvedet adaptation perfectly. Eight choral parts and soloist tell the tale of a mystic meeting that makes 'Where the Wild Things Are' look like a Sunday picnic. You won't hear the words - you shouldn't expect to in the middle of a maelstrom - but you can hear the story of an epic journey of souls. Certainly the finest performance of this work in the Southern Hemisphere to date. Beasts there were, and wilder things and shades of night were in that land; I was afraid. The monster's claws tore at my cloak, with piercing eyes they saw my soul I ran away. For many leagues I traveled west until at last my journey's end -- I saw the Bridge! Stretching out across the sky, the way was barred to all but wise. I went across. This bridge was spanned across a sea of ice; A silver band, a way to paradise. A fair wide land did open up at last; I stopped to stand where future reckons past. And in that place the Pilgrim Church did rise Where, full of grace, our Holy Mother wise Bade me embrace her head of gold and red; Beasts there were, and wilder things Shades of night were in that land Monster's claws tore at my cloak Piercing eyes, they saw my soul Many leagues I traveled west 'Til at last my journey's end Listen! I sing the sacred vision of the all wise wand'rer The weaver of dreams. This was his dream song I met a man, whose coat was stained in blood, AlI mired was he, up to his knees in mud: He held a frightened child under his arm, And bitterly he wept for causing harm.
From the opening time signature and tempo - 288 bpm in 5/8 - you know this is going to be bonkers and glorious fun. Gjeilo's swirling, stormy score complements this Draumkvedet adaptation perfectly. Eight choral parts and soloist tell the tale of a mystic meeting that makes 'Where the Wild Things Are' look like a Sunday picnic. You won't hear the words - you shouldn't expect to in the middle of a maelstrom - but you can hear the story of an epic journey of souls. Certainly the finest performance of this work in the Southern Hemisphere to date.
Beasts there were,
and wilder things and shades of night were in that land;
I was afraid.
The monster's claws tore at my cloak, with piercing eyes they saw my soul
I ran away.
For many leagues
I traveled west until at last my journey's end -- I saw the Bridge!
Stretching out across the sky, the way was barred to all but wise.
I went across.
This bridge was spanned across a sea of ice;
A silver band, a way to paradise.
A fair wide land did open up at last;
I stopped to stand where
future reckons past.
And in that place the Pilgrim Church did rise
Where, full of grace, our Holy Mother wise
Bade me embrace her head of gold and red;
Beasts there were, and wilder things
Shades of night were in that land
Monster's claws tore at my cloak
Piercing eyes, they saw my soul
Many leagues I traveled west
'Til at last my journey's end
Listen! I sing the sacred vision of the all wise wand'rer
The weaver of dreams. This was his dream song
I met a man, whose coat was stained in blood,
AlI mired was he, up to his knees in mud:
He held a frightened child under his arm,
And bitterly he wept for causing harm.