Veronika Wu: Under the Ocean: Mermaid
Navona Records

At sixteen minutes, Veronika Wu's six-movement Under The Ocean: Mermaid might be brief, but it nevertheless leaves a strong impression. Conceived as “a voice from beneath the ocean,” the work's performed exquisitely by Japanese cellist Tomoki Tai, whose command of early music and contemporary classical repertoire makes him the ideal candidate to perform the suite. Wu's passion for storytelling in sound developed through studies at Johns Hopkins University and the Film Scoring Academy of Europe.

As the work's title indicates, it moves below the water's surface to sensitive us to sounds we rarely hear, those emanating from the ocean and the creatures dwelling within it. Without being a heavy-handed eco-warrior, Wu encourages us to develop greater awe and respect for the natural world and a deeper connection to those inhabiting it, humans being but one species of many. We naturally default to the voices of those most like us, but her piece implies that we lose much when we fail to hear nature's voice; she thus invites us to attend to phenomena that doesn't come to us in language but more through feeling and spiritual means. The fantastical vision she puts forth in the work makes room for the mermaid, a creature Wu chooses to believe still exists beneath the waves.

While a movement title such as the opening one, “A Mermaid Without Legs,” can't help but influence one's reception, the music would be compelling even if it was identified by number alone. Emerging surreptitiously from the depths, Tai's cello undulates like some slippery underwater creature, gliding confidently beneath the surface. Double- and triple-stops expand on the sound design, as do glissandos and high-pitched trills and flurries. Moods range from melancholy and brooding as the music plunges into its lowest register and then darts upwards, breaking the surface and gulping in air before just as quickly plunging to the depths. Whale-like vocal cries surface alongside long, flowing lines suggestive of an immense creature moving swiftly. An almost Bach-like baroque figure announces the onset of “Humming a Melody Too Loud to Sing” before “Peeling the Scales Elegantly” finds Tai oscillating between bowing and plucking. A smattering of blues seems to sneak into the fifth movement, “Twitching Lips Blowing Black Bubbles,” before the passionately expressive “Say: I Hear You Hearing Me” brings the work to a powerful and emphatic resolution.

May 2026