Beyond the Notes | 04

Vast, infinite, and with unrelenting power, where the last place in England lies exposed to 5,000 miles of the sea, but where a comforting reminder of true simplicity might be found.

In this series, I share some of the pieces of music which have meant the most to me in my life, and the stories behind why they resonate so strongly within a life lived slowly and simply.

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“O soul thou pleasest me, I thee,
Sailing these seas or on the hills, or waking in the night,
Thoughts, silent thoughts, of Time and Space and Death, like waters flowing,
Bear me indeed as through the regions infinite,
Whose air I breathe, whose ripples hear, lave me all over,
Bathe me O God in thee, mounting to thee,
I and my soul to range in range of thee.”

One of Walt Whitman’s poems, set to music by Ralph Vaughan Williams in A Sea Symphony, seems to so beautifully capture the vastness of the sea. Somehow, when we stand, awestruck by the sea’s seeming infinity, we find ourselves on the edge of the world. The limitless ocean stretches before us, unwieldy in its expanse, yet forever mystical and mysterious.

If Walt Whitman captured it in poetry, and Turner captured in art, then Frank Bridge embraced its vastness wholeheartedly in his 1911 composition, The Sea. He completed the four-movement work whilst living in Eastbourne, the same place where Debussy completed his own La Mer.

The sea has many facets. On the one hand, it offers us holiday destinations, days out, and happy times with friends and family, yet on the other, it remains hugely destructive, fierce, and unrelenting in its power. One moment it appears calm and tranquil, yet how quickly this morphs into those crashing waves and undulating waters with which we are so familiar.

One of my first experiences of the seaside was at Lee-on-the-Solent, Hampshire, in 1985. I have to confess that I’ve never been very keen on the seaside. Don’t get me wrong, the sea is lovely, but I’m quite happy to view it from a distance. I think that deep down, I’m a little wary of it, having been brought up to believe that the sea is one of those things in life for which we should have the utmost respect.

I first heard Bridge’s The Sea in a 1982 documentary, The Last Place in England, introduced with the haunting words:

‘The view from the edge of England, where the granite of Lands’ End and its sentinel, Longships Lighthouse, perpetually suffer the fury of the North Atlantic. A violent shore where death is a regular occurrence of passage.’

When you watch the film it matches so perfectly to Bridge’s music, as he captures so seamlessly the great majesty and awesome power of the sea.

‘Even when the storms of winter give way to the placidity of summer, deception’s in the air, for there is no protection to be had here, not for 5,000 miles; no land mass to fend off the elements all the way from Longships to the Americas. Gales arrive unimpeded at full gallop, even in summer.’

The documentary focuses on the small community of Sennen Cove, one of the farthest flung places in England, where in winter, the sun never touches the roofs of the houses. Sennen Cove was a place where it was said that all 100 residents could tell you a tale of the sea, few with happy endings. The documentary is freely available to swatch on the BFI website here.

The sea, in its great ferocity, can render us powerless. In that sense, it demands of us unhindered respect at every level, even on the days when it appears deceptively calm. Yet, in that powerlessness, there is somehow an unrivalled comfort to be found. In a world of technology, where people, governments, and institutions demand control of every part of our lives, the sea remains, quite literally, uncontrollable. More and more, I sense that we need these reminders from nature, that somewhere out there, there is something far greater, more immense, and powerful than we can ever imagine

We cannot control everything, and I continue to see that as one of life’s great positives. One day, society might discover this, that we too might find ourselves at the edge of the land, at the last place, once again embracing the simplicity of a life lived gently, slowly, and in tune with out our surroundings.

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