When I read the Scottish Folk tale of the Selkies I loved the transformational element of a Selkie; a creature that resembled a woman on land and a seal in the water.
The Cello would suit this celtic tale, I thought. I’d like to write a folk melody that whooshes like the water surrounding the small Scottish villages. It will be quite entrancing, to draw those women out of their beds at night to explore the enchantment of the sea.
The Cello will play a line that is relatively repetitive and hypnotic yet dull and dreary to intercept with the narration… Then it becomes a bit more morose like a heartbeat slowing. Then it will speed up again like the exhilarating adrenaline when you bounce into slithery, icy water and it surrounds your body.
I try to play it like it’s a bit withdrawn, mysterious. The lower strings of the Cello are more textured like a smoker’s voice and I wanted there to be a grumble deep within the ocean that echoed the searching of the women in the middle of the night, which resembles some sort of void.
It is all very spread out, desolate and harsh; like some of the dry country villages I have seen in the summer, with a lack of foliage and lots of flatness. It is this harshness that I also saw in this particular piece of music.