About this work: The physical act of breathing is consciously integral to singing: we are constantly aware of our ability to sing through a phrase with enough air to support it appropriately; striving to maintain the maximum amount of air in our lungs at any given time.

In this new work, I wanted to explore the idea of breathing as a passive afterthought. The title is a single line from a larger poem by Mary Oliver, Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches, in which this single line acts as a metaphor for moving through life without fullness or purpose. For us as musicians though, the literal nature of the words work equally as well, as we question whether our breath allows us to make music with similar fullness and purpose.

I have taken the elements of this text and set them in three languages, Nepali, Arabic and Mandarin; each with a sibilance and sonority that seems to echo the sound of our breath. The Nepali words sāsa linu/sāsa phērna(breathe in/breathe out), are repeated mantra-like by a single voice, seemingly struggling for air. Voices enter in canon, layered on top of each other and clouding the vocal texture. The Arabic word, astamae (listen) ushers in a moment of respite, before the shallow phrases of the opening resume. The work builds into a hymn-like refrain, Zhè shì shēnghuó ma? (is this life), with all voices joining in homophonic solidarity, before finally collapsing exhausted, breathless, and ultimately, fulfilled. [Dan Walker]