Purchase Score

This work is not available for purchase until September 1, 2022.

More Information

Mottainai was commissioned by and composed for the 2021 Artsong Collaborative Project in Toronto, Canada.  The text, which is my own, was written in early 2020 and I began composing the music in December 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic.  This work was completed in January 2021 while in residence at Copland House, Cortlandt Manor, New York, as a recipient of the Copland House Residency Award.

“Mottainai” is a Japanese expression of regret at the full value of something not being put to good use or the feeling of regret at something being wasted, and it is connected to the Shinto belief that all objects have souls.  It can also be used as an imperative meaning “Don’t be wasteful.”  Mottainai is something I feel very deeply when I witness waste (or create it myself) and I was so glad to find a word that encapsulated it.  Waste is one of the issues at the root of so many of our global problems: waste of energy, food, natural resources, time, money, and even of the lives of people and animals.  If we can all feel mottainai when we see waste and change our mindset to find the full value of all things and beings, then we will go a long way towards creating a beautiful and just future on this planet.  I hope that after hearing this song, you too will hear a voice singing “mottainai, mottainai” whenever you witness waste.

This work will be premiered at the 2022 Art Song Collaborative Project in Toronto, Canada.

Text

It was three months ago, in the middle of May,

When I celebrated my latest birthday.

After brushing my teeth and putting on clothes,

I found a small box crowned with silk bows.

With joy I tore off the wrapping and lace

Before lifting the present up to my face.

An electric toothbrush of the latest design—

Too expensive to buy—was exclusively mine!

Now the manual brush I’d bought yesterday

Was no use to me—I could throw it away.

But as it dropped in the trash—I can’t tell you why—

I heard a voice whisper “mottainai, mottainai.”

That very same day, or that evening at least,

My friends took me out for a grand birthday feast.

They said, “Order anything!” and so I obliged,

Getting appetizers, an entrée, and numerous sides.

The first course was delicious, the second divine,

And I washed it all down with some glasses of wine.

After crackers and cheese, my belly felt big

As the main course appeared: a complete roasted pig.

I took just one bite before declaring, “No more”

And coolly pushed away that fat, slaughtered boar.

But as they withdrew the platter—I swear this is no lie—

His mouth, animated, crooned “mottainai, mottainai.”

As I left the restaurant and walked down the street,

My mind was still fixed on that talking piece of meat.

My friends said “Goodbye!” and I went my own way

As I thought “What a beautiful, but strange, birthday!”

But as I sauntered on home looking forward to bed,

A disheveled old man approached me and said

“Excuse me, my friend, can you lend me a penny? 

For I’m in need of food, but I haven’t got any.”

The man stank of liquor, and instead of reply

I ignored him as if he were a trivial fly.

I left him behind yet was pursued by his cry:

A bitter, plaintive, “mottainai, mottainai.”

-Keane Southard