Jenny Mahler is a Charlbury-based composer whose choral works are performed by ensembles the world over. Her music has been highly acclaimed, and in addition to composing, she also works as a performer and a teacher. Her latest composition, Anchor (due to be released in July) takes both its performers and its listeners on a journey from the stillness and intimacy of breath to the ‘roar’ of the woodland flora and fauna. It encourages a meditative, grounded approach, of being in the moment and appreciating nature’s capacity to heal and be healed. On hearing an early preview we were immediately struck by the beauty of the soaring chorus, contrasting with an evocative sense of stillness as it draws to a close.
What inspired you to write Anchor?
The climate crisis and the rapid loss of nature is a thread that is weaving through my writing. I'm trying to write about the positive things that we can do to reconnect with nature. Here in the Cotswolds or the Oxfordshire countryside, it is easy to go outside and reawaken the curiosity that we had as children that gets numbed over time. And Anchor raises a lot of existential questions. Anne Miller, who runs a lot of stuff locally, talks about peace starting at home: if you can't manage to communicate with your neighbour, how does that ripple out on an international scale?
How much can you do with a song? I think you can do quite a lot. I'm bringing a certain narrative, and people are rehearsing it every single week. They're rehearsing positive words about getting out into nature every time they sing.
What is the process of composing a piece? Is there a collaborative element with the choirs involved?
It usually starts with me singing at the piano and writing down various ideas. Occasionally, I'll go on a long walk into nature, and if I have an idea I'll sing some voice notes. Then I'll have a nice song that I can go and teach to my choir. Occasionally, there'll be edits made… it is an extremely useful process to go through – I'm testing it live.
With Anchor, first I sung it with my folk group, then with my community choir, and then with one of Oxford University’s choirs, where I workshopped it. They are of a really high standard. When you get to the recording session, you really don't want to have any more edits to make, so it's important to have worked with enough people and heard it in different settings.
How do you know when a piece is finished? Do you start at the beginning and end at the end, or is it the case that sometimes you start with the middle section?
Often for me, the end is actually the last thing I do but it depends from piece to piece. With Anchor, the ending definitely came last, and I’m really pleased with it. I decided to completely strip it back at some points and have complete silence. There are bars where you're waiting for the next thing to happen; like we are holding our breath.
What would be the markers of success for you with this work?
I'd like it to be heard and sung by as many people as possible. That [would give me] a real sense of achievement. Success comes back in small ways, like being sent an email from someone – small moments of satisfaction.
So, is it fair to say your ambition is that people would come to your website looking for music for their choirs?
Yes.
If you want to be a self-employed composer, as I do with this piece, it is tricky because all of that side of things is a different skill set.
I'm starting to learn an awful lot, and I feel like I'm going to learn so much that at some stage, I might actually be able to help to other composers. There are so many talented composers I know and [I’d like to] support them too, but that's a long way down the line.
Anchor
As the seasons come and go
As the earth spins into the darkness
As the wind brings life to the willow
And the bindweed clings to the branches
Come back to your breath, come back to your anchor
Take your raincoat as your armour
Don’t fear the stormy weather
Find the blackthorn and the cherry
Seek the beech tree and the heather
Come back to your breath, come back to your anchor
Come back to the river, come back to your home
Come hear the woods roar, like never before
They’re asking you to help them grow
Back to the child you knew, back to what you know to be true
The forest is yearning to grow but it’s burning, you need to come back
To a moment in the meadow
With the marbled white and the clover
With the lapwing and the wagtail
The uplifting colours all over
Come back to your breath, come back to your anchor
Lyrics © Jenny Mahler, 2026
For more information on Jenny and links to hear her works, visit jennymahler.co.uk.
