Departures was written at a time when several of Hatzis' friends had recently passed away. This period also saw the events of the 2011 Japanese tsunami (and resultant nuclear disaster at Fukushima) unfold; events that, in addition to a sense of profound personal loss, were at the forefront of Hatzis' mind as Departures came to be. These events and feelings are reflected in the subtitles of the three movements.

From the Composer

‍Blooming Fields is dedicated to the memory of theatre and television director, George Bloomfield. In his obituary, George was quoted as describing his life as "the most fun anyone has ever had, ever!". This is certainly how I remember him. George believed ones appearance to be an important statement, and he would often buy new clothes and sew his own buttons on them. However, and to my unfailing amusement, he would always find half-convincing excuses to justify my own utter neglect regarding my apparel and appearance in general.The music of Blooming Fields reflects George's playfulness and sheer delight with life, people, and – as is also characteristic of his television and stage work – his deliberate style and wide expressive range. From the "Asiatic" opening, through the acrobatics for the flute and strings, to the unexpected "burlesque" interpolations that are subsequent, the music within Blooming Fields is full of exuberance and delight. However, George's existence had a flip-side. He was constantly flirting with, and cheating, death - at least until the inevitable final encounter. He kept the deeper experience of these encounters hidden from his friends. It is these experiences that must have been the great teacher of his life; the 'teacher' that revealed the more profound aspects of being and the richness that results from interacting with them. This is conveyed in the music when the "burlesque-like" revelry is interrupted by an intense and dissonant flute multiphonic. In contrast, the quiet whistle and aeolian tones of the flute depict moments of one listening to the small voice within. The closing of Blooming Fields sees a soft, muted tremolo in the high strings confirm the introspection of the soloist as being the path to true awakening.

Serenity is dedicated to the memory of Bertha Modlich, an inspirational woman who passed away just prior to her 105th birthday. Bertha lived alone, running her own house and pottery workshop, playing the violin and partaking in sports (mainly rowing) until the very end of her life – a remarkable feat for a women of her age. She attributed her longevity to her daily dose of chocolate (produced in a factory directly across the lake from her childhood home at Lake Zurich). However, I think her secret was perpetual optimism and the determination to always see the best in people, irrespective of the circumstances. Bertha's life was not without hardship. When living in Berlin as a young mother of two, she suffered through Allied bombings of the city and the material deprivations which followed the fall of Hitler's Third Reich. Despite this, Bertha always focused on the positive aspects of life and had the ability to help others realise their importance and place.

In this respect, the music of Serenity follows Bertha's example of determinable optimism: there are clouds, but they are short-lived (which sees the music return quickly to sunnier vistas). The latter part of Serenity is a song without words, and as I was writing it I was immersed in my loving impressions of Bertha (and perhaps her own ghostly presence). I imagined her dancing away into eternity to an unpretentious and slow waltz-like melody that seemed to exist on its own terms and against all conventional wisdom regarding human limitation.

The final movement is a meditation about the nuclear disaster of Fukushima; not the accident per se, but a meditation on the lessons that can be gleaned from our single-minded faith in technological progress. Even though the tsunami that caused the incident resulted in a higher loss of human life than the nuclear meltdown itself, the latter event which may have a more transformative effect on the collective Japanese psyche. The modern history of Japan includes two nuclear disasters. These incidents, 66 years apart, bookend a period of great material wealth and emotional satisfaction for the Japanese people which, beginning at the end of World War II, has continued through to the present day. However, this period of technological development and exuberance also caused fissures within Japanese society which are only now becoming apparent to those across the globe.

The music within Progress Blues follows this path of exuberance and is not unlike Blooming Fields in that respect. However, in Progress Blues the exuberance is more relentless and impulsively driven. The aforementioned fissures are represented musically by way of the 'wobbly' phonograph effect (which exposes the emotional pretentiousness of the Hollywood-style treatments of the main theme), and the 'ticking clock' metaphors (heard as pizzicati figures in the strings). Introspection is not absent for long and even the Hollywood-style theme undergoes a dark rethinking, reemerging as a fugato. However, the sheer drive forward and the forces that have given it impetus in the first place repeatedly succeed in sidetracking any attempt to question the wisdom of this relentless drive (or the dire consequences that it may engender). At the pinnacle of speed and energy, the music suddenly collapses … the clocks keep on ticking ominously, and then … (well, I will let the music inform you as to what happens next). Progress Blues is dedicated to the victims of misconceived 'progress' in Fukushima and elsewhere.