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Pratik Gandhi (cond​.​)​, Felix Del Tredici (bass trombone & narrator) with String Quintet - No Man's Land: Part 1 (A Reading of Cpl. Adelard Audette)

from The Great War Sextet: Canadian War Poetry with Trombone & Strings by Benjamin Harry Sajo

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    These discs come in a black jewel case with a beautiful gate-folded booklet, including lyrics.

    All graphics were designed by the composer and his wife.

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about

Of the 22nd Battalion, he lost both his legs at the Battle of Vimy Ridge and, soon after, published a collection of poems with his brother to help raise money for veterans: "A Few Verses and a Brief History of the Canadians on the Somme and Vimy Ridge in the World War, 1914-1918" (London: A. Talbot, 1919). Although in rhyming verse, this poem reads like a journal entry and concludes our album.

lyrics

The rain will help—I’m not so thirsty now
How cool it falls upon my burning lips!
This is a frightful thing—I realize how
It drives men mad, like scores of scourging whips.

The still cool dark is better than the light!
The sun beats down so fiercely through the day,
It seems to burn away my very sight—
And shrivel me to nothing where I lay.

This “No Man’s Land” is strange—a neutral ground,
Where friend and foe together come to sleep.
Indifferent to the shaking hell of sound—
To shell still searching for more grain to reap.

Kincaid died very well!
Before he went
He smiled a bit and said he hoped we’d won;
And then he said he saw his home in Kent,
And then lay staring at the staring sun.

That German over there was peaceful, too.
He looked a long, long time across their line,
And then he tried to sing some song he knew
And so passed on without another sign.

Well this won’t do for me—I’d best get back,
I’m just a little sleepy, I confess,
But I must be in time, we may attack—
The lads would miss me too at evening mess.

A moment more, and then I’ll make a start—
I can’t be shirking at a time like this,
I’ll just repeat—I know them all by heart—
Some words of hers that ended in a kiss.

Why do I seem to feel her tender hand?
To see her eyes with all their old time light?
Is she beside me? Ah, I understand—
I think perhaps I’ll sleep here through the night.

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Benjamin Harry Sajo Nunavut

Benjamin Sajo is an Ottawa-based composer and educator. His love of comparative mythology, multiculturalism, folklore, social justice, literature and visual art inspires a writing imbued with a post-modern aesthetic: mixing the tools and tricks of the past into decidedly modern, fiery, magic.

Education:
Master of Music, McGill University, 2013

Bachelor of Music, Western University, 2010
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