Estuary

The Colorado River is the lifeblood of the American Southwest. Starting from its source in the Rockies, throughout an otherwise arid region the river irrigates vast hectares of agricultural land and provides millions of people with drinking water. As one of those millions during my childhood, thoughts of where the water came from or where it went rarely crossed my mind. But today, as climate change places an ever greater strain on the river system, I often think about its imperiled future. A combination of drought, poor planning, and bad policy nearly emptied the river’s reservoirs last year, but for decades before it had been drying up downstream, dammed and diverted for human consumption. At the Colorado’s mouth, where in centuries past the river formed an estuary with the Gulf of California, the desert has overtaken the riverbed and water rarely reaches the ocean. Now, like so much of the natural world in the anthropocene, the estuary exists only in the traces left behind in the memory of the earth. My piece follows the river’s course, from the stillness of snow-capped peaks to the stillness of the dry desert riverbed, in my own small contribution to this memory.

Recorded live by the Yale Philharmonia, under the direction of Stefano Boccacci, during the New Music For Orchestra performance on December 7, 2023.