Lawrence Dillon

Fl. (dbl picc, afl), Ob., Violin, Viola, Perc. (vibe, chimes, 2 susp. cym. (high, medium), glock; piano

Composer's note:

Some wars are just; some battles must be joined.

But no war, in my lifetime, has ended well, to the extent that they have ended at all. Each one exacts a cost that continues to demand repayment.

When Marc Antony comes upon his friend slain by traitors in Act III of Julius Caesar, his grief bursts forth in a bloodthirsty speech, words that lash up a lather of hatred and violence. The speech famously culminates "Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war." The metaphorical hounds, once let off their leash, bring "dreadful objects so familiar/That mothers ... but smile when they behold/Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war."

Forever warring or on the brink of war, mankind has let slip those beasts time and time again, always with dreadful consequences. We haven't yet learned -- nor, I fear, will we ever -- that once the dogs of war are let loose, we can't expect them to return tamed.

The world of Let Slip is built around the sonority of the tubular bells -- sometimes marking the passage of time, sometimes sounding the alarm.