Deemed humanity’s Magna Carta by Eleanor Roosevelt, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948 established a baseline for human rights around the world in the wake of the devastation of WWII. Its 30 articles respect the dignity of every human being and commit to nondiscrimination, while also guaranteeing rights to education, nationality, marriage, and leisure. It was an ambitious, wholly idealistic document then, and now—with the declining trend of democracy around the world—the goalposts of the UDHR feel even further away.
Which may be one of the reasons why composer Max Richter based his latest work, Voices, on this profound piece of legislation. Richter brings together recordings of people in over 70 countries reading the document with a massive, peculiarly assembled orchestra. Emphasizing the lower timbres of the ensemble, there are credits for 13 double bassists and 23 cellists, an inversion of most philharmonic rosters that Richter deems an “upside down” orchestra. Since his emergence in 2004 with The Blue Notebooks, Richter has proven adept at couching 19th-century romanticism in 21st-century pessimism, often using the human voice as conduit.
On “All Human Beings,” it’s fitting that one of the document’s main architects, Eleanor Roosevelt, appears first, her voice wrapped in crackle as she reads the preamble to the UDHR. But then the album’s principal voice, that of actor KiKi Layne, emerges to narrate the first two articles, before giving way to a solemn theme and a mournful violin solo. Already it feels like an insurmountable chasm between the words and the music, the hopeful ideal of the declaration offset by melancholy, Richter’s lament accentuating our failure as a global society to enact even a few of these guiding principles.
More voices arise and overlap (the album credits 32 Declaration readers), some reading the text in their native tongues, others lingering at the periphery, with Layne’s voice reappearing to demarcate sections. In the brief “Journey Piece,” Layne recites an article over a chatter of voices, which then mix with birdsong and a passing car. The unadorned piano at the heart of “Prelude 6” also stands apart for its spareness. Fascinating as it is to hear the full text of these articles aloud, the prose doesn’t have quite the same supple musicality as previous Richter sources like Franz Kafka’s journals or the letters of Virginia Woolf. After a few times through, the primary text of Voices starts to take on the rigidity of an employee conduct handbook from HR.
Voices’ most transportive moment comes during the 11-minute centerpiece “Chorale.” At first, Layne oddly recites the opening articles of the UDHR again, but when she recedes, a wordless choir takes her place. Their assembled voices eschew language altogether yet speak to the lofty themes of the Declaration. They present the curious entity that is humanity joined as one, stronger together yet always at risk of splintering. Such a beatific sound speaks to our angelic aspects, even when the music of Richter also suggests human fragility and our fallible nature.
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