for voice, cello, three violas and two percussionists
Lotte Betts-Dean, mezzo-soprano
Ensemble Musikfabrik
Ian Wilson, conductor
Farpoint Recordings CD, 2026
Ian Wilson's Voces amissae ('Lost Voices', 2023) approaches a vast subject with minimal musical and lyrical means. A 50-minute work for mezzo-soprano, cello, three violas and two percussionists, it looks at the subject of how voices can be silenced - whether through political or domestic oppression, though a medical condition or simply in how the growing use of technology and mobile phones distances us from being able to communicate and fully express ourselves. More than just telling us about this, the work invites the listener to feel this experience for themselves - to a necessarily lesser degree - as a way of reflect on just how important an issue it is for us all.
Personal experience lies behind the inspiration for this subject and the approach that was undertaken to present it. The Irish composer Ian Wilson was working on a project to be sung by the Dutch soprano Nora Fischer, only to discover that Fisher was at that time suffering from vocal difficulties. Rather than abandon the project, the composer and singer chose to explore the challenges this loss of voice presented and widened the subject to consider other 'lost voices' that had been silenced, the personal impact of this, and how one might overcome the problem. Using excerpts from a number of interviews undertaken by Nora Fischer and Ian Wilson within a framework of extracts from "Under the glass of the volcano" by the Serbian poet Draginja Adamović, Lost Voices is performed here by the Australian mezzo-soprano Lotte Betts-Dean and Ensemble Musikfabrik, conducted by the composer and recorded live at Ensemble Musikfabrik Studio in Köln in 2024
In that respect, the use of minimal instrumentation here is complementary to Wilson's Orpheus Down (2021), which has no words, the music itself taking on the role of another 'lost voice' struggling to deal with death and bereavement, undertaking a journey so important that it necessitates overcoming the darkness of the Underworld to find what has been lost and bring it back. The musical and vocal elements of Lost Voices take us on a similar journey, the music often evolving out of silence, starting out as noises, clicks and humming drones, taking form and shape and finding a path through the struggle into a form of rhythm and melody. Evidently it's the voices that take precedence here in the consideration of what it means if we lose that voice or it is taken away from us, how to find that voice again and how necessary it is as something that helps us understand and express "what it is to be alive and feel a sense of joy".
The often unconventional instrumentation seeks to find the most effective way to express and share the physical and emotional complexity of a variety of human experiences surrounding this; painful experiences that can't simply be put into words, but each demonstrating resilience and a willingness to find a way through. It's as close to sharing and feeling those experiences that you would want to come. The strings - only cello and violas, instruments with a range closest to the human voice - fight against percussive sounds that for brief periods and short interludes rumble, rustle and drone, with flickers of voices and singing on distant radio programmes cutting through. Silence and space are also used to allow the pieces to breathe, to let silence exert its own power.
In such an environment every note and sound has purpose; nothing is superfluous. The music and words can speak of violence one minute - harsh rustling sounds lying behind the words of the the woman forced into an arranged marriage and forbidden to sing with threats of beatings - and silence the next, silence as another form of choice of expression; "My silence is marvellously untouchable to you" she observes. In the journey from 'Interlude 5' to 'Six months in hospital' we hear the singer who has lost her voice to an operation gasping for breath and words amidst scratching sounds that evolve into ringing bell (bells and vibraphones seem to embody optimism), the rising strings holding firmness of purpose, building resilience and optimism before the reality of the present loosens the grip, spiralling and descending back into a deadening beat.
Evidently, the piece is not seeking to seduce you with sweet sounds that are pleasing to the ear, but Lost Voices nonetheless has an operatic quality in terms of its dramatic and musical phrasing, taking the listener on a journey through its development of a theme. Its unconventional presentation however draws attention to the importance of how music allows us to be a part of the progression of the subject; something that we aren't often aware of or just take for granted. Here it feels like we are given a unique and intimate behind-the-scenes look at the creation and evolution of a musical piece. Which is not to say that the piece is unfinished or unpolished, but rather that the form replicates the subject, leaving room for the listener to find their own space within it and bring that essential additional element of personal investment.
The actual recordings of the interviews gathered for the project could perhaps have been blended in to make this more of a multimedia piece, and those voices might have been interesting to hear, but the process of turning them into song is perhaps more vital to the aim of the project, reflecting the process of transforming sounds and noises into music, words into sentences and into singing. In any case, the different voices and what they convey each have a distinct character in subject and in how Ian Wilson composes music for them. As far as the composer is concerned, the musical voice is also respected here. There is nothing showy, nothing clever, the voice, the speaking, the singing used sparingly to relate only what is necessary, while each note of the music combines to give deeper expression that says something meaningful.
Considering the rapidly changing world we are living in, it is not difficult to place your own lost voice within this without it necessarily having been shut down; it can be all too easy for important voices to become drowned out in the bombardment of shouty social media and misinformation. And with AI progressing, the human voice and the human skills involved in conceptualising ideas and giving them meaningful expression are also in danger of becoming lost. One other thing you begin to appreciate when you listen to the stories and the arrangements here is the importance of the voice; the gift of having a voice can be taken for granted, whether that as a physical voice, as singing voice or as a tool for communication. Lost - or taken away - there is a realisation here of how previous a gift it is, one not to be taken lightly.
It might sound like Lost Voices is an intense and challenging experience that demands a lot from the listener, but essentially it just asks you to listen, and the intricate sound design of the recording of the music here actually does a lot of the work for you, drawing your attention to the meaning and significance of what the words are telling you. That offers an immensely more rewarding experience that involves bringing the listener on a journey, guiding us through an immersive and enveloping experience that confronts ideas that we may not have considered before and takes us out the other side; or at least shows us that there are other ways out. If we can't raise our voices above the noise, we can at least use that gift more wisely.
Voces amissae ('Lost Voices') 50' 00”
Texts: four poems by Draginja Adamović (Serbia, 1925-2000) and transcriptions of excerpts from a number of interviews undertaken by Nora Fischer and Ian Wilson
Performed by mezzo-soprano Lotte Betts-Dean and Ensemble Musikfabrik, conducted by the composer
Recorded, edited and mixed by David Stalling
Noise reduction by Lazar Arsović
Created with funds from the Arts Council of Ireland
Produced by Ian Wilson and David Stalling
Mastered by David Stalling at Stille & Klang, Co. Westmeath, Ireland
External links: Lost Voices
