The first half of that title derives from the famed 1818 poem by Percy Shelley (1792 – 1822). In this oft-studied sonnet, an onlooker gazes upon a broken statue in the desert, the shattered visage of an ancient ruler demanding that watchers must admire Ozymandias’ accomplishments – of which nothing remains. It is a fine study in irony: the sculptor (and presumably Ozymandias himself) imagining that these achievements will endure forever, though in fact they are already lost to time.

However, composer Drew Hemenger’s work, also has a subtitle, To Sell a Planet, and therein lies a story. Hemenger was talking with Michael Butterman, music director of Colorado’s Boulder Philharmonic, about a commission the composer would be writing for the Philharmonic. Hemenger recalls Butterman’s suggestion that science and the environment are “topics that resonate in Boulder,” but also that the conductor liked the Shelley poem. Himself an admirer of that sonnet, Hemenger observes that he’s long been struck by the fact that “there are multiple ways to interpret it.” After all, one might suggest that it is less bad luck or malign fate than environmental consequences that brought down Ozymandias, a notion
that linked well to the interests Butterman had emphasized.

Extrapolating from the sonnet’s implication of a powerful kingdom having been overcome by desert sands, Hemenger searched for suitable accompanying texts. He added another sonnet, The World is Too Much With Us by William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850), in which Shelley’s elder countryman muses upon “Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers,” becoming ever more out of tune with Wordsworth’s beloved nature. Wordsworth’s concerns echo some interpretations of Ozymandias.

Also given attention are statements by two Native American leaders, the Lakota Sitting Bull (1831–1890) and the Shawnee Tecumseh (1768 – 1813). The first of those is given the work’s first movement, with the chorus in turn proclaiming and intoning Sitting Bull’s words of welcoming spring and sharing the earth, even with “our animal neighbors.” Tecumseh, occupying the closing pages of the fourth of five movements, is more skeptical in tone, that the land “belongs to all.” It is from Tecumseh that the subtitle, ‘To Sell a Planet’, derives, and it is he who expresses the doubtfulness of having “confidence in the white people.”

All four of those points of view are of the 19 th century. Hemenger, wanting to include more current reflections on the subject of mankind in conflict with the earth, turned to recent headlines. In 2019, young Swedish environmental activist Greta Thunberg (b. 2003), crossed the Atlantic in a small yacht of limited carbon footprint to attend the UN Climate Action Summit, where she spoke compelling about cavalier treatment of the environment not just by individuals, but also by world leaders and nations: “You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words.”

Inviting the ghosts of two poets and those of two Native American leaders to convene with Ms. Thunberg might lead to an intriguing conversation: enough food for thought to anchor the commission, which is scored for orchestra, chorus, and vocal soloist. Hemenger added one further point of view: the political. Obtaining from public records a report by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), Hemenger selected a text beginning, “Human influence on the climate system is clear,” its dry, factual statements anticipating neatly Ms. Thunberg’s views, and those of Tecumseh, as well. Words from the IPCC report are spoken to specific rhythms, not sung. Ms. Thunberg’s words are mostly sung, as are those of Tecumseh: the distinct contrast of presentation add immediacy, as if science is declaiming while the heart sings, both concerned with the same overall issue.

The last movement of Hemenger’s Ozymandias: To Sell a Planet is given over to the Shelley poem of the title. Phrases from that sonnet had appeared earlier, notably “these words appear.” Tenor soloist and SATB chorus evoke the haunting moods of what Shelley had written against subtle weavings of orchestral sound, which themselves suggest the words being sung. Shelley imagined Ozymandias intoning ‘Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair.” The phrase ‘and despair’ was, for Hemenger, especially significant, particularly in translation, in this case, into Ancient Egyptian, as that seems to be the setting of the scene. Thus “and despair” becomes “Hena rem!”

In the closing measures, Hemenger’s work slides mysteriously into the distance – perhaps the distance of time – on sustained tones for strings and harp, and a flowing ‘sensa misura’ line for solo clarinet. Not given a measured beat, this solo line is left to the soloist’s whim, likely in conversation with the conductor, though with a certain indeterminacy. That touch, too, might reflect the message of the music, that without directed change, the future of the planet is perhaps uncertain.

I. The Spring Is Come
II. The World Is Too Much With Us
III. Migeloti [ma-jee-lo-ta]
IV. Sell a Country?
V. Ozymandias

Program note © Betsy Schwarm, author of the Classical Music Insights series

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Of the text translations used in the score:

Translation from the original Shawnee of Tecumseh’s speech by Elder George Blanchard, First Language specialist of the Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma.

Translation into Ancient Egyptian of a portion of Shelley’s Ozymandias by Janice Kamrin, curator of Egyptian art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City
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