“Amelia,” from “Pioneers of Aviation”
Theatrical Song Cycle/Performance Piece for Medium or High Female Voice and Recorded Keyboard
Concept, Lyrics, and Performance by Iris Rose
COMMISSIONED: by performance artist Iris Rose
PREMIERE: May 1991, Performance Space 122, NYC
DURATION: twenty minutes
PUBLISHER: All Conrad Cummings works are self-published; contact him here
INSTRUMENTATION: medium or high female voice and pre-recorded keyboard
“I Here Confess” from “Amelia”:
I’m in awe of Iris Rose. Since the first time I saw her onstage in the performance collective Watchface, I dreamed of working with her, so of course I jumped when she asked me to do music for “Amelia.” This twenty-minute theatrical song cycle – or performance piece, I’m not quite sure which to call it – formed the middle section of a full-evening piece, “Pioneers of Aviation,” with Amelia Earhart sandwiched between Howard Hughes and the Lindberghs. Iris’s staging of all three at the legendary East Village venue Performance Space 122 was devastating.
Iris is a fine singer and a sophisticated musician, but she doesn’t primarily read music. I sketched the piece roughly, then recorded it, singing and playing into two audio tracks, one for voice, one for keyboard. Iris learned the music from the combined tracks, then performed it to the pre-recorded keyboard track. She is an extraordinary memorizer. She learned the quirky and complicated music perfectly.
I’ve been reluctant to let anyone else have the piece, but Iris is open to sharing, so a notated version should not be far off. Stay tuned.
—Conrad Cummings
AMELIA
Lyrics: Iris Rose
Music:Conrad Cummings
LOVE OF FLIGHT
Above
carpet of living toys
animated map
In the sky
IN the sky
cradled, embraced by air itself
Clouds like beaten egg whites
Neighbors
Attention!
Concentration!
Your life hangs in the balance
Touch the sun
Kiss the moon
Nearly equals
Love at first sensation
of flight
SELF-PORTRAIT
A prairie gal in horse-and-buggy days
In a town carved out by pioneers
Never the giggling nor gushing nor blushing sort
“The girl in brown who walks alone”
Mother grew up on Quality Hill
Father was a promising young lawyer
But a bottle was his steadiest client
And a family’s bond of faith was sacrificed
Lent my willing hand to the job
Of patching up the “Great War’s” handiwork
Then fell myself, like so many others
To the Spanish Influenza
Plenty of jobs, just for the pay
Then settled at a settlement house
Lending my willing hand to the job
Of teaching the poor of Boston
AMBITION
Paid ten dollars for ten minutes
For my first flight
Worth every penny
Helmet, goggles
Gee, it felt swell
Pilot training from Miss Neta Snook
Not another like her
My first plane was called the Canary
Cause it was yellow, you see
But not me
Crashes!
Why, that’s just part of the job
Powder your nose before the reporters show up
First woman to cross the Atlantic?
Chancey, crazy
When do we leave?
BAGGAGE
Aboard
The Friendship
Guest of a Mrs. Guest
Colossal golden bird
Floating golden galleon
And I the brave cargo
Clouds like potato soup
Deceivers
Malfunction!
Desperation!
Our lives hang in the balance
Nose against glass
A boat
A fleet
Sweetest sight ever
Land
FAME
Bill and Slim were the real heroes
2000 miles of blind flight
Invisible men
“We want the girl!
Lady Lindy!”
Tea with Lady Astor and Mr. Churchill
Overnight celebrity
Parades, parties, propositions
Marry me, work for me
Endorse me
Lucky Strikes! Carried on the Friendship!
Why, that’s just part of the job
I don’t smoke, but the fellas did
A lecture, an article, an appearance
Fame has its price
And its rewards
GEORGE
George Putnam was the hand behind it all
Publisher and lover of adventure
Opening doors and then guiding the way
He know a promising property when he saw one
George Putnam was the shaper of my image
Publicist and lover of promotion
“Close your lips when smiling; don’t wear hats”
Pygmalion fell in love with Galatea
George Putnam was a married man
Husband and father of two sons
But somehow they were overlooked
In the passion of our historic joint venture
George Putnam was a suitor for my hand
Marriage is a cage, however fine
I cannot say that I’ll be always true
And you’d best get used to being Mr. Earhart
BUSINESS
From lecture to lecture to lecture
Thirty times each month
In a plane, if possible
Scribbling in the breaks
My face in the public’s eye
Brush-up flight lessons on the sly
The best-known aviatrix should also be the best
Organizing
A women pilots’ race
A women pilots’ club
George, shall I fly the Atlantic?
The best-known aviatrix should also be the best
Endless preparations
Carefully plotting to throw myself off a cliff
MOTHER
Dear Mother, I am fine since last I wrote
The garden’s now a glorious burst of spring
A rare moment’s solitude in beauty
To catch up on my personal correspondence
Please, Mother, buy a suit with the enclosed
In brown, please, with a somewhat darker hat
Remember, your appearance reflects on me
Since I’m a public figure, so are you
I do not mind providing your allowance
It’s interest from investments, anyway
I do mind when you give it to the church
Or Pidge, who has a husband to support her
Dear Mother, what I can’t reveal to you
Is the plan which now consumes my every thought
You’re so naive in dealing with the press
You cannot keep a secret worth a darn
SOLO
Alone
Lindbergh’s shadow
Five years to the day
Lightning, thunder
Flaming exhaust pipe
Spinning toward an iceberg
Clouds like spun sugar
Phantoms
Ice above!
Fog below!
My ship hangs in the balance
Emerging sun
Rises over
Ireland
A welcoming committee
Of cows
MARRIED LIFE
George was the unnoticed half of the team
Watching, waiting, worrying on the ground
Always there but not quite recognized
Bearing the constant fear I dared not feel
Our independent natures called the tune
And off we’d dance in our respective jigs
A modern couple taking the best from life
And pulling together when necessity arose
“The Millionaire Publisher” was not what he appeared
We always spent as much as we could earn
When I’d dream up another hare-brained stunt
My George would always muster up the funds
I here confess I was a bigamist
Wedded not just to a man, but to an ideal
I split my time between George and aviation
And I can’t say which one was my greatest love
THE GRIND
The wheels of fame keep grinding
Woman of the Year
White House dinners
Amelia Earhart Fashions
More lectures, more letters
Same smiles, same lunch, lower fees
Time to set a new record
Solo the Pacific!
West to east, please
I rather aim for a continent than an island
No more firsts to conquer
How elusive is the public’s attention
One last stunt
Around the world
Around its waist like a flying sash
LAST FLIGHT
Ahead:
One immense ocean
Behind: the globe
Behind: sand storm,
Jungle, monsoon
But ahead:
A cloud like a scoop of ice cream
Individual
Dedication!
Completion!
My career hangs in the balance
Howland Island
Invisible
Critical
A shrinking supply
Of gas
“Amelia” from “Pioneers of Aviation” complete, with Iris Rose at Performance Space 122:
A studio recording of the sung portions of “Amelia” with Iris Rose:
For a perusal copy of the score, contact Conrad