“This work began with a discussion about diaspora—the disengaged, relocated, lost. But in Michael's thoughtful hands, it has grown into a beautiful contemplation of what a community is and does; how it makes, holds, and loses its own history. It's very personal; it has an intimacy that invites us to contemplate connections—those that are purposeful and those that happen by coincidence of time and place.” —Donald Nally
Scored for 24 unaccompanied voices, Anonymous Man is an hour-long piece that expands on Michael Gordon’s inventive approach to composition, layering minimalistic swirls of vocal sound on top of one another to create a hypnotic incantation.
Gordon drew inspiration for the piece from his neighborhood in lower Manhattan. "When I moved into my loft on Desbrosses Street, the streets were empty, since few people lived there. Over time, the neighborhood changed from an industrial warehouse district to a residential area. Anonymous Man is a memoir about my block; it’s built around my memories of moving in, meeting my future wife for the first time there, and conversations I’ve had with two men who made their home on the loading dock across the street."
"The piece is kind of a memoir, a sliver of time, a slice of my life," Gordon explained, and later connected this to his approach to writing for choir. "Singing is very direct. When you’re working with instrumental music, it’s more abstract—it’s easier to hide. It’s harder to hide when you’re writing for vocalists. You have to face some pretty deep things about yourself."
“As a 20-something, composer Michael Gordon moved into an abandoned factory on Desbrosses Street in 1981. He has now chronicled decades of his neighborhood’s growth and change, his life and times with friends and conversations with two of his homeless neighbors in Anonymous Man, recently released in a recording by the Philadelphia-based professional choir The Crossing, conducted by Donald Nally.”
John Pitman Review:
Donald Nally talks about Anonymous Man on AllClassical Portland.
A note from the composer:
When I moved into my loft on Desbrosses, the streets were empty, since few people lived there. But both then and now, there were the homeless. Over time the neighborhood changed from an industrial warehouse district to a residential area. Anonymous Man is a memoir about my block. The piece is built around my memories of moving in, meeting my future wife for the first time there, and conversations I have had with two homeless men who made their home on the loading dock across the street.
The recording of Anonymous Man is made possible with major support from an anonymous donor.
The commissioning of Anonymous Man was made possible by a visionary gift from an anonymous donor.
Anonymous Man premiered July 1, 2017 at the Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill, as a part of The Month of Moderns, The Crossing’s annual new-music summer festival.
ANONYMOUS MAN
words and music by Michael Gordon (b. 1956)
1. A Tale
This is a tale of two
One lives inside
The other one outside
2. I Moved
I moved into the second floor of an abandoned factory at 22 Desbrosses Street in the fall of ‘81. The door had been left open. The landlord circumvented New York law by renting out commercial warehouse space to artists looking for a place to live and work.
Outside the streets were dark and desolate. The windows rattled from the cold and rain. The loft was piled high with trash. I called the landlord, Mister K, but no success. The building had been occupied by the Romanoff Caviar Company. The floors of my loft had been covered with waves of undulating concrete. There were drains every six feet. I bought the Reader’s Digest Complete Do It Yourself Manual, which had a lot of practical information on building walls and things like that.
I was playing in a band called Peter and the Girlfriends. Peter was a girl who sang. The Girlfriends were a bunch of guys who played guitars and drums. We rehearsed on Desbrosses Street at night at full volume, making all the noise we liked. Then we’d plaster the town with posters for our show and end up at the Market Diner. I was in graduate school at the time and had a job at a furniture store which sold porch swings in Manhattan. A professor from Mississippi, on his Sabbatical year, brought up truckloads of porch swings and hired me to run his store.
3. On Desbrosses Street
Ever since I’ve lived on Desbrosses Street there have been people living on the street.
As long as I remember Larry, quiet and sweet, muttering, waving.
4. It’s Julie Passing Through Town
I’m living on Desbrosses Street, it’s August 1982.
The buzzer rings, I get the door, it’s Julie passing through town.
My roommate Peter said that we would like to meet, Desbrosses Street at 10 AM.
We went to eat - Leroy’s Coffee Shop, a local place now long gone.
I looked in her eyes and saw blue green light streaming by, alluring, confiding, aspiring.
Up on the fire escape grating, we spent the day sailing through dense conversations.
We talked about Desbrosses Street, flying trapeze, Miami Beach, arboretums, Music for
Eighteen, the Bal Shem Tov. We ordered rice and French toast.
I said you’ve got to meet my friend, David Lang in New Haven.
But come back to Desbrosses Street and marry me, it will be happy endings.
5. I First Noticed Robinson
I first noticed Robinson. He was impossible to ignore. He stood out because he had a lot of belongings. He spent the day moving his things within the radius of a few blocks, with a mysterious urgency. And at the end of each block when his belongings were gathered he would stand and read. His reading intrigued me and I started to talk to him.
I first noticed Robinson. He spent the day moving his things like Sisyphus pushing a boulder up hill, day after day after day after day. He would tell me about the books he was reading, in English and French, history and philosophy. And at the end of each block when his belongings were gathered he would stand and read.
One day I stopped to say hello and he was reading the complete plays of Aristophanes. He gave me a quizzical look: "I thought you were a student." I ordered the volume from Amazon. A few days later I read Lysistrata and it all came back to me. The women of Greece end the Peloponnesian Wars by withholding sex from their men.
Not long ago I noticed that Robinson was a little uneasy. “The scaffolding’s down and I will be moving.” After years of renovation the building across the street was finished. And with the increase in foot traffic, the doormen and the new residential tenants, the street offers less protection. The street offers less obscurity. The street offers less anonymity.
6. On That Terrible Beautiful Morning
On that terrible beautiful morning we woke up early and dressed our children for school.
We hurried out the door on that terrible beautiful morning.
We woke up early and walked out into the light.
The sun was gleaming and on that terrible beautiful morning we woke up early and dressed our children for school.
We hurried out the door on that terrible beautiful morning.
We woke up early and walked down Greenwich Street.
The sun was gleaming and we stood inside the courtyard conversing, chatting on about nothing. I looked up at the sky. The sun was shining and on that terrible beautiful morning, everything ran in slow motion. Eerie hushed chaos enveloped the streets, smoke and flames pouring out above us.
7. One Day I Saw
One day I saw a make-shift memorial where Larry lived.
The alcove he slept in was covered with flowers and candles.
I was surprised the Downtown Express ran an article,
"Downtowners mourn the homeless man they called Larry"
One day, in March 2007, I walked into my studio, and from the window
I saw a make-shift memorial, across the street a sad tableau -
flowers and candles and hand written notes taped up on the wall
by the alcove where Larry slept covered with cardboard.
“I used to bring him coffee and lunch," said Eve.
“A kindly graceful man," said Mitchell.
“A comforting familiar face," said Jordi,
“I have two kids, he would always wave to us."
8. Abraham Lincoln’s Journey Down Desbrosses Street
The funeral cortege left Washington on Friday morning.
At every station crowds flocked to view the passing train.
In Baltimore, in Harrisburg, in Philadelphia, bells tolled, minute guns fired.
On Monday morning, in Jersey City, the coffin was lifted into the hearse.
Then, in solemn silence, the procession moved to the ferry.
On Desbrossess Street every available space was occupied, all eyes toward
the approaching steamer.
The glass hearse was festooned with eight large plumes of black and white feathers.
Around the edge were American flags fastened with knots of white and black ribbon, drawn by six grey horses heavily draped in black, each horse led by a groom in mourning.
9. I Sleep At Home
I sleep at home. I have a bed.
I put my head on a pillow.
I have a door. I have a closet.
My clothes are clean and folded.
I have a chair. I can sit down.
There is a light. I can turn it on.
I have a roof. There is a window.
When it is raining I am dry.
When it is thundering I am wondering.
The Crossing
Katy Avery • Nathaniel Barnett • Jessica Beebe • Kelly Ann Bixby • Karen Blanchard • Abigail Chapman • Colin Dill • Micah Dingler • Robert Eisentrout • Joanna Gates • Dimitri German • Steven Hyder • Michael Jones • Heather Kayan • Frank Laucerica • Chelsea Lyons • Maren Montalbano • Rebecca Myers • Daniel O’Dea • Rebecca Oehlers • James Reese • Daniel Schwartz • Rebecca Siler • Daniel Spratlan
Donald Nally, conductor
Kevin Vondrak, assistant conductor
John Grecia, keyboards
recorded March 20, 21, and 22, 2018 at The Curtis R. Priem Experimental Media and Performing Arts Center (EMPAC) at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY
Adrian Peacock, producer
Argeo Ascani, engineer
editing by Adrian Peacock and Will Brown
mixing by Dave Rowell
mastering by Will Brown
The recording of Anonymous Man is made possible with major support from an anonymous donor.
The commissioning of Anonymous Man was made possible by a visionary gift from an anonymous donor.
Anonymous Man premiered July 1, 2017 at the Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill, as a part of The Month of Moderns, The Crossing’s annual new-music summer festival.