A Symmetry of Being, The Sanctuary Wrecks
I listened to track six, “Morningside,” on the way to my home church, Morningside Hig Park, Toronto, for worship. The track is written by the church’s former minister. I had heard it several times previously, driving to Baysville, Ont., to pick up my daughter from Camp Glen Mhor.
While the whole album is evocative, rich in tones and textures, intricately constructed, this one song has stuck with me. Obviously, I was first attracted to it because it is about my church, but for the composer, Rev. Will Ingram, currently senior minister at St. Andrew’s, King Street, Toronto, Morningside High Park is a community of friends. In a short poem he says of this composition: “The love of good friends/ Embracing life together/ Where the sun rises.” And perhaps that is why this one song draws me in; it is about community, which makes it a richer experience of church.
You can hear the laughter, the joy of friends gathering. There is a wonderful arc to the music; it builds quietly and then recedes, never going away, like the rhythm of comfortable conversation. I don’t want the track to end; I want to hear the next movement, see where the story is headed.
The next song, “Giant Shadows,” was written after the death of Ingram’s father-in-law. Are those castanets in this tune? Sure sounds like them, beating out a rhythm. Of this track Ingram has written: “Shadows fall across the path/ Show the way to light.” How do shadows show the way to light? Close your eyes as you listen, the song will guide you.
A Symmetry of Being is written and recorded by Will Ingram and composer/producer Marc Koecher, except for “Eclipse,” which is based on a tune by Dominic Miller, guitarist for Sting. The musicianship is stellar throughout.
Each of the 10 pieces started with Ingram; they are personal meditations on life, death, friendship, love, nature. There are no lyrics, no words to tell you what the song is about. You have the music, and if you want, Ingram’s brief descriptions of each one on sanctuarywrecks.com. You have to work a little harder, close your eyes, let the music wash over you, and then insert yourself into the song.
You have to let yourself be part of the mystery of the music. Take the first track, for example, “Metis-Sur-Mer,” which is on the Gaspe Peninsula where Ingram has summered. You can hear the ocean and the river, the setting sun. That may have been where Ingram started, but it doesn’t matter. You might hear in it your own cottage lake, your own summer.
I first heard the song as I left my driveway to pick up my daughter 200 kilometres away. The tune instantly put me on a path—it was a flowing river, and as it repeated after about 40 minutes I was on a different point in the journey. I heard the album three times that day. The music a constant commentary to the scene outside my car window—neighbourhood, city, highway, farmland, outlet malls, stalled traffic, the Shield rock. Aural meditations on life, love, death, friendship. It may have begun with Ingram but a mystery transformed it into something more personal to me.
Visit the Sanctuary Wrecks website for more information.
