SAMAN SHAHI

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Saman Shahi is JUNO-nominated composer, pianist, conductor and educator based in Toronto. His compositions have been performed, and broadcast around the world and include orchestral works, operas, ballets, and many works for choral, vocal and chamber ensembles. Saman holds a master’s degree in composition from the University of Toronto, is an affiliate Member of the Canadian League of Composers, Associate Composer at the Canadian Music Centre as well as a SOCAN member. He is a Co-Founder and the Executive Director at ICOT, Music Director at the Peterborough Concert band, and a composer and teaching artist with the Canadian Opera Company.

In 2020 Saman’s debut composition album “Breathing in the Shadows” was recorded and released by Leaf Music. All song cycles in this album have won awards both in Canada and the United States including a 2022 JUNO Awards nomination. His second album, “Microlocking” was released by People Places Records in 2021

Beneath the Purple Sky

by Saman Shahi

SATB with piano – CP 2387 – duration 4:55

“Beneath the Purple Sky” sets a poem by young Canadian poet, Stephanie Cui about youthfulness, freedom, and exuberance within a person. The piece carries a serene atmosphere with the choir gliding over their lines, with occasional outbursts representing the youthful spirit.

I Heard a Fly Buzz

by Saman Shahi

SATB a cappella – CP 2388 – duration 4:45

This is a powerful setting of Emily Dickinson’s famous poem: “I Heard a Fly Buzz When I Died.” It depicts the moment of death from the perspective of the deceased. Instead of using the usual hyper-Romanticism and spirituality, Emily emphasizes the mundane – a fly buzzing around the room. A mournful “buzzing” motif is an essential part of this composition, and one which gives it a sense of unity.

 Here is a more elaborate analysis of the poem:
Describing the speaker’s dying moments, “I heard a Fly Buzz – When I died” presents a scene of ritual and ceremony. In essence, the speaker is going through the motions of what people are supposed to do when they die, and the people around the dying speaker are playing their part in this ritual too—gathering solemnly around the speaker’s death bed, crying, and dealing with the will. These last few moments are a revealing commentary on the way people conceive of life itself—but the presence of the fly casts doubts on the priorities and beliefs of human existence.
The deathbed scene the speaker describes is like a miniature of humankind’s long-established traditions and customs around death. Religion, family, and the law are all represented here. The speaker and those gathered around the speaker believe in the norms of their world. Loved ones are gathered around, suggesting the importance of human relationships, specifically of family. The crying “Eyes” suggest that life is something to value—and that its loss is worthy of mourning.
 
The speaker hopes for spiritual salvation from “the King,” as is the norm for the speaker’s society. Thus the religious institutions of Dickinson’s day, so integral to 19th century America and to Dickinson’s poetry, are also represented. And, as though to underscore the importance of earthly possession, the speaker’s final act is to “Sign[] away” his or her “Keepsakes.” This is a reference to the will that passes down all the speaker’s property and possessions—but only what “portion of me be / Assignable” (which subtly casts doubt on whether these “Keepsakes” are all that important).
Everything is set up, then, for this to be a kind of picture-perfect death—the mourners are in place and the event is unfolding according to traditions and customs of the time. But it’s then—and explicitly “then” in line 11—that the fly comes into view and earshot. It disturbs this perfect scene in a way that seems ironic, tragically comic, and incredibly well-timed.
 
Flies, of course, are notoriously annoying; the fly, with its meandering flight and high-pitched buzz, undermines the gravity of the situation. It functions almost like a streaker at a serious public event, farcically mocking the occasion. In turn, the presence of the fly questions whether the “keepsakes” really were important—or if maybe it was the un-assignable portion of existence that was important after all. Or perhaps even none of it was important!
Indeed, if the pre-death rituals are partly about reassuring the speaker that some part of him or her will continue to exist after death—whether in the afterlife, other peoples’ memories, or physical possessions—the fly disturbs these reassurances too. Flies are often associated with the decay of the human body. They are scavengers, happily feeding on decomposing fruit and flesh. Here, then, the fly is a reminder of what will happen to the speaker’s body once he or she is (presumably) buried. Over time, the physical features that made the speaker recognizable will waste away, leaving only bones. This is a stark reminder of the physical reality of death and seems to undermine what usually gives life meaning, whether that be possessions, beliefs, or interpersonal relationships.