Cycles of My Being

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, his lorem prodesset in. Cu pro alii enim mollis, ut nec aeterno signiferumque, nibh dicant commodo nam ut. No laudem fabellas pro, pro ut reque illum prodesset, harum graecis id per. In pri vide equidem percipitur.

Docendi nostrum lucilius nec id. Verear quaerendum id mei, labore animal disputationi et usu, an has latine comprehensam. Quas quando disputando eum eu, dico nobis elaboraret pro ad. Malorum iuvaret qualisque ut pri, vel at probo omnis imperdiet, pri ut ferri electram. Etiam dicant accumsan ea pri, ei soleat labore sea, ut vocent splendide vis. Pro aeterno detraxit ea. Id nec nonumy dolores.

Media Coverage


Praise for "Cycles My Being"

‘Cycles of My Being’ is a work of both anguish and optimism, at once accusatory and stirring...whose traversal feels like a descent into a maelstrom followed by the emergence out the other side.
— San Francisco Chronicle
One of the things you can do as an artist with star power like the tenor Lawrence Brownlee is use that cachet to add to the repertoire.
— San Francisco Chronicle
Rare are the classical singers who use their celebrity cachet to help generate new repertory. One shining example is Lawrence Brownlee, who regards the commissioning of music by living composers and sharing it with audiences around the world an essential part of who he is as a performing artist.
— Chicago Tribune
Sorey’s music allows Brownlee to do what he does best — to soar effortlessly into the vocal stratosphere, nail perfectly placed high notes and invest them with expressive meaning.
— Chicago Tribune
The experiences of black men in America today are making their way onto the classical concert stage
— NPR's All Things Considered
Sorey’s settings are absolutely masterful and fit Brownlee like a glove... it rose to a passionate climax, then faded to a quiet, contemplative close.
— San Francisco Classical Voice
The piece ends suddenly and quietly. Here is an existential question delivered in a small moment, and the sensation of a larger meaning coming into focus with a musical gesture felt startlingly familiar. It was like Schubert. But of now, and us.
— The Philadelphia Inquirer