wow. Simply, wow.

It was half past midnight in Dublin (they would say “half twelve,” I think) when I began writing this post. It’s 6 AM now, and I haven’t slept a wink. Tried. Can’t.

Those of you who know me (even slightly) will readily attest that I am seldom at a loss for words. My Irish grandmother, Monica Furlong Pellens, claimed I’d been vaccinated with a phonograph needle, which was essentially a polite way to say I didn’t know when or how to shut up–which is true.

But I have run out of words.

I can’t tell you much. Not yet. But I can tell you a few things in the hopes that it will serve for now, with the promise that I will write more soon.

  • I can tell you that the amazing Cor Linn gave their hearts away with mindful, intentional singing, vulnerable artistry, healthy truth-telling, and transparent honesty.
  • I can tell you that the sold-out audience in the National Concert Hall was thrilled and deeply moved, and responded very kindly to the singers (and the composer)
  • I can tell you that it has been a night, and a premiere, that I will not forget for a long, long time.
  • And I can tell you that the outpouring of comments from friends sharing my joy in all of this is incredibly moving and affirming to me.

Here are the members of Cor Linn and their gifted conductor, Mary Amond O’Brien, just before they took the stage tonight:


And here we are working hard together:


Alright, maybe not.

Choral music can change the world, because it always begins by changing the singers.
I believe this with all my heart. I know it is true. I have experienced it personally.

50 years ago, I told my high school teacher that if I could make choral music for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest man on earth. Hearing this, Dr Dennis Shrock smiled at me and said, “I hope that you do.”

That was the desire that fueled my first steps on this journey. It was that same calling that led me to be sitting in the audience of Dublin’s National Concert hall tonight.

For all of this — and for all of you — I am so grateful.

Even if words fail me, I am grateful.

Even if words fail me, music will never fail us.