Solastalgia (2016)
(for Solo Piccolo and Orchestra)

Solastalgia ( /sɒləˈstældʒə/) is a neologism that describes a form of psychic or existential distress caused by environmental change, such as mining or climate change. Coined by philosopher Glenn Albrecht in 2003, it was formed from a combination of the Latin word sōlācium (comfort) and the Greek root -algia (pain). The first article published on this concept appeared in 2005.

As opposed to nostalgia – the – the melancholia or distress experienced by individuals when separated from a loved home (or homesickness)—“solastalgia” is the distress that is produced by environmental change impacting on people while they are directly connected to their home environment.

I mostly live in Hiiumaa (an island in the Baltic Sea), in a farm on Kõpu peninsula. When the wind happens to blow from the north, I can hear the waves break on the other side of the forest. There are no other houses in sight. From the windows of my studio, I can often spot deer, foxes and cranes. It takes about ten minutes to walk through the protected forest down to the beach. And I feel how every day my life in this miraculous place grows increasingly rare and somehow unreal. Like some sort of an illusion.

Where I live, the impact of global climate change manifests itself in that winters are no longer winters and summers no longer summers. In my childhood it was ordinary for cars to drive to mainland on a 25 km ice bridge in the winter. There was a lot of snow. And summers were so warm that swimming in the sea was the most natural thing in the world. Today’s reality is that the difference between winter and summer equinoxes is often only 4-5 degrees. There is no place to hide from the ubiquitous environmental change caused by human activity.

An inexplicable anguish creeps into my soul when I see the vast areas of chopped down forests; the onslaught of oil palm plantations when I travel in Southeast Asia; when I read about gigantic ice blocks breaking off the mainland in Antarctica; the fields of garbage floating around in the ocean, etc. Why am I writing about this here? Do I have any solutions to offer? No, I don’t. And this composition won’t make the world a better place either. At best, it’s a lone voice in the wilderness – something that echoes the most burning conflicts of contemporary reality. The above was just to explain that I didn’t choose the title on a whim or due to the word’s peculiar sound.

The piccolo in this score is the catalyst of great processes in the orchestra. Its effect and essence are perhaps the most similar to the “butterfly” pattern adopted by the American mathematician and meteorologist Edward Lorenz. Initially, the piccolo phrases are replied to by a “same-gender” sound: the flute, alto flute and bass flute. The introduction of more melodious motifs is accompanied by the entire woodwind section and, gradually, by the whole orchestra. It is remarkable how the orchestral waves inspired by the piccolo grow more intense and then slowly emancipate. Everything flows in the direction of increasing rhythmical activity and expanding tessitura, spirally developing in waves that accumulate more and more energy.

The harmonic plan evolves according to the consistent alteration of the horizontal or vertical organisation principle. Resembling repeatedly converging and diverging rays, the structure of musical lines on the horizontal level is connected to the structure of huge chord pillars on the vertical level. A sequence of certain key intervals spurs infinite derivatives, which, though growing and diminishing, are nevertheless tied to the original DNA. I have called my composition method “vectorial”, as I develop my musical material according to factors such as “the angle of ascent or descent”, “curve characteristics”, the direction of energy accumulation and eruption, etc. I want to emphasise that although this sounds extremely artificial, the decisions I make when composing are still largely based on intuition. Moreover, in my imagination the inner energy and dramatic development becomes an abstract visual chart that very naturally guides me to use these vectorial methods in shaping the musical details. And when I listen to my music, the most important thing is whether its developmental arc sounds natural or not. Like a tree that grows from a small seed – when it’s just a tiny sprout shooting from the earth, we haven’t the slightest idea of what form it would take in decades. Having achieved its final shape, however, it’s the sole fundamentally intrinsic outcome it could have reached.

Erkki-Sven Tüür
Translation: Pirjo Püvi