Chanson pour Claude Vivier sans paroles was composed for the Taipei Chamber Singers and Le Vivier's call for scores.

Written during a period of obsessive creation, Chanson began as a poem exploring music’s non-auditory qualities and its impact on experience and emotions. I composed this piece as a musical tribute to Claude Vivier. I was influenced by Vivier’s spectral compositional methods (i.e., composing with sound’s acoustic frequencies), melodicism, and his use of langues inventées (invented languages). Chanson alternates between a recurring theme (featuring augmented seconds) and contrasting spectral episodes that range from peaceful to frenetic.

Building on three concepts from Jacques Derrida (sous rature, traces, and différance), the piece examines how music can simultaneously coexist in a state of both existence and nonexistence, leading to a complex interplay of meanings and interpretations. Using the technique of sous rature (crossing out text while keeping it visible), the piece utilizes strikethrough tempo descriptors, playfully demanding the performers to confront the traces that construct their interpretation of its meaning. These tempo descriptors remain legible yet questioned, revealing how each musical instruction both needs to exist while being flawed, carrying traces of other possible meanings. Derrida believed that every word or idea gets meaning from being connected to other words and ideas—nothing exists separated from other things.

Chanson challenges how we understand musical instructions by moving through different languages, from modern western ones (French, English, Italian, and German), to ancient ones (ancient Greek, Proto-Indo-European), and finally to an invented language. This progression reflects Derrida’s concept of différance—just as words get their meaning from being different from other words and never having a fixed, final meaning, the changing languages force performers to constantly question and reconsider what these musical instructions mean.

The piece combines sung and unsung text. The unsung component exists as a poem with symbols and performance notes, while the sung portion is a haiku in an invented language. This constructed language has French-like qualities, creating a connection to both Vivier’s and my own native language and his invented language. The ambiguous sung words allow performers and listeners to construct their own interpretations.

Like a river that reveals its depths through subtle movements, Chanson invites audiences to experience meaning's fluidity through the transformation of musical textures and linguistic elements. The piece's layered structure, much like still waters harboring hidden complexities,rewards both immediate perception and deeper contemplation. Though challenging at times, the work maintains a delicate balance between experimental depth and accessible appeal.

Ancient wisdom tells us that "no one steps in the same river twice" (Heraclitus), that "still waters run deep" (Latin proverb), and that "deep rivers run quiet" (Murakami). These perspectives on depth and quietude mirror the quality of musical experience itself—where the most profound moments often emerge not from obvious gestures, but from subtle interactions with deeper layers of meaning. As with Derrida's concept of différance, meaning in music is never fixed; it lives in the body as much as in the ear, manifesting through cognitive and emotional responses that transcend mere sound: music is both audible and inaudible.