Broadway at TPAC
Mamma Mia!
It was quite the packed night at TPAC. On March 18, 2025 at 7:15 pm, the air was both alive and electrified. In my time as a music journalist, I don’t believe I’d ever seen TPAC so busy. I took my seat—K3, all the way to the right of the building—and I was surrounded by a sea of voices, as eager for what was to come as I. Strangers, mostly women of all ages, made easy conversation with one another; from what I could eavesdrop, about weekend activities, church, and, of course, Mamma Mia.
The lights dimmed, and the performance began softly, with Sophie (Amy Weaver) confessing to her best friends that she’d invited her three potential fathers to her upcoming wedding, without her mother’s knowledge. Her lyric soprano voice carried beautifully over strings and woodwinds, especially through the seamless set transitions; they bled into each other so well it was as if I were watching the movie. Sophie’s vocals were beautifully contrasted with her mother Donna Sheridan (Christine Sherrill’s) much deeper, richer alto voice as she sung of her former flings all returning for her daughter’s wedding.
As someone who admittedly hadn’t seen a Mamma Mia production in years before this night, I had very little prior knowledge on what I was walking into. But from the beginning, with this performance, it was made clear this would be a non-issue. All characters and their relationships to one another were introduced with clarity, and the storyline remained easy to follow. Among classic ABBA tunes like “Dancing Queen,” “Honey Honey,” and “Voulez-Vous,” the cast blew their way through the musical in an astonishingly rich and deeply humorous fashion. Tanya (Jalynn Steele) was my personal favorite. Her rich alto voice and acting truly stole the show; she’s both the fierce independent woman I can relate to, yet also running away from every man who chases her.
If I had to praise one aspect of the show above all others, it would absolutely be costume design. All the outfits, from Sophie’s wedding dress, to Tanya’s glamorous sunglasses and scarves, to the fathers’ suits, camping gear and much more, were all spot-on. They sparked a 70s atmosphere to the stage, while keeping it contemporary at the same time. It’s one of those rare, beautiful timeless aspects to an art that are difficult to come by, but was done so perfectly here at this packed TPAC night.
Mamma Mia shone its timelessness, in the audience, voices, setting and costumes. I highly recommend the show, and while their time at TPAC is over, you can find out more about their tour here.
From the Nashville Repertory Theatre
Sunday in the Park with George
I had been looking forward to this show since they’d first announced it. Sondheim! Sunday in the Park with George won the 1985 Pulitzer Prize for Drama (one of only 10 musicals to do so). I won’t go into deep analysis of the musical itself; there are many excellent resources on this work, both online and especially in James Lapine’s book Putting It Together: How Stephen Sondheim and I created Sunday in the Park with George. You can also watch the PBS American Playhouse version with most of the original cast on YouTube and elsewhere. Except for a brief summary of the musical, I will focus my review on the Nashville Repertory Theatre’s production. 
In the past few years I’ve seen the Nashville Repertory Theatre do many excellent musicals with the typical clear-cut separation of dialogue and individual songs. Sunday in the Park with George, however, has lengthy stream-of-consciousness songs with interspersed dialogue, complex rhythms, challenging vocal demands, and talented musicians. You can’t accomplish this show casually or half-heartedly. The Nashville Rep did it with complete dedication. It was an impressive and successful accomplishment.
The musical is about two-and-a-half hours with two acts. The first act is about Georges Seurat and his meticulous creation of the famous and familiar pointillist painting A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jette. This took the real artist two years to make and around 60 different studies and sketches. We see how his obsession with his creation damages his relationships while also enjoying large comic scenes with the ensemble who together make up the figures in the final painting. The second act is about his fictional descendent and his own artistic career in 1984, struggling with some of the same issues as his ancestor. The play muses on the nature of the creation of art, the art world, authenticity, and community with others.
I saw their April 11th show with a highly engaged crowd. While the Nashville Rep always has great musicians (thank you Music City), this group was strikingly good. Taking on the demanding music, the orchestra was fantastic, playing nonstop and fluidly under Stephen Kummer’s direction. With the full orchestration of the original score we were able to enjoy the musical in its complete glory. All the textures and uniquely chosen timbres were perfectly balanced with the voices of the singers in Polk Hall, showcasing the skill of the Rep and the aptness of the space for musicals.
The singing was excellent, the cast completed their roles with vocal skill and tight ensemble collaboration. The accomplished Broadway performer Christine Dwyer was stunning as Dot, George’s mistress and eventually mother of his child, immediately winning us over in the opening number “Sunday in the Park with George.” Not only her voice, but her acting and knack for comedy were excellent. David Shannon, experienced in London’s West End, showed the complexities of George through his talented performance.
This opening number also holds a challenge: for most of the song Dot is complaining about modeling on a hot day until a new musical theme is introduced and she sings her intimate thoughts about George and herself, before returning to her complaining. The original show doesn’t only express through the music, but has her literally step out of her dress for the moment of intimacy. The “iron dress” remains standing in the rigid pose and she returns to it when she resumes her complaints about posing. It’s an unexpected and deeply funny expression of costume design meeting the music. The 2017 Broadway revival production dropped this element, having Dot instead step away from an upright parasol and remove her jacket. While this communicates much the same thing and is easy to accomplish, the Nashville Rep didn’t go the easy road. Costume Designer Melissa K. Durmon took on the challenge and provided the iron dress to audience delight. Since the various members of the ensemble comprise different figures in the final painting, most of the costumes were determined in 1886, but Durmon did a marvelous job of providing the details and fitting them perfectly to the cast.
As a musical about a man’s obsession with the creation of a painting, it’s rather important to be able to see the painting. The visuals of this show were excellent: a neutral-colored backdrop became a projector screen to showcase Seurat’s painting. For the first act the background was a projected image of one of Seurat’s many studies for the painting. It’s colorful and beautiful and of the actual location. Gary C. Hoff’s design was perfect! Characters often find themselves exactly where they will be in the final painting. The hugeness of the backdrop made it so that everyone in the audience had the perfect sightline to see their placement.
There are a few moments in the first act when we see George in his studio, and large picture frames with transparent screens are lowered. Images of the paintings he’s working on are projected onto these, literally allowing us to see George through his art. A great visual gag at the beginning of the play calls for the removal of a tree George dislikes while sketching, and the prop is lifted from the stage up out of sight.
The second act, where George’s great-great-grandson’s own art is a “Chromolume” was somewhat less impressive than the original production’s machine and light-show, but I think that has to do with the more dated nature of laser art. Born in the 90’s, I grew up with laser tag and the iTunes visualizer, so lasers feel commercial and corporate rather than imaginative or artistic. This production projected colorized words across the set, which was fine enough. 
Such a thought-through musical as Sunday in the Park with George, with its music showcasing pointillism, its contemplation of the act of creation and the art scene, its hilarious interactions between the individuals in the painting, calls for concinnity in its performance. The message of this musical requires complete excellence to be communicated and the Nashville Rep did this.
The director of the show was Jason Spelbring, (who recently replaced the great Denice Hicks as Artistic Director of the Nashville Shakespeare Festival), and in his director’s note he wrote, “In this production, I want to emphasize the delicate balance between the work of art and the artist’s personal journey. The visual and emotional worlds of Seurat’s painting and his real life must be seamlessly woven together.” In this production they were. What a way to end the season!
While the Nashville Rep’s season is now over, you can find out more about their upcoming 2025/26 season here.
from the Annals of Nashville's Diversity:
Mendelssohn, Huang, and Barnes at the Schermerhorn
Sometimes the best concerts give you no, or very little, indication of what is happening beforehand. This was the case with the Nashville Symphony’s presentation on April 11 & 12, unceremoniously titled “Mendelssohn’s Fifth.” While it did feature a wonderful performance of Mendelssohn’s Reformation Symphony, little emphasis beforehand was placed on the two excellent compositions by living composers (the composers were in the hall!), the inclusion of not one, but three visiting world-class artists (soloists including the NSO’s own Titus Underwood) as well as a remarkable guest conductor and director of the San Bernardino Orchestra in a most exceptional program showing distinct and ingenious approaches at blending the folk, the secular and the sacred with the classic. Given a time machine, I would have conducted interviews with ALL of these folks, but I digress.
The evening began with a performance of Joan Huang’s Tujia Dance (1994). Like many Chinese intellectuals of her generation, Huang was raised during the Chinese Cultural Revolution and “rusticated,” as a teen, that is, she was forced to take part in Mao Zedong’s “Down to the Countryside” Movement, which forced the children of urban intellectuals (the bourgeois) to perform heavy labor in rural settings. When this so-called “Revolution” subsided, she was among the first to attend a reopened Shanghai Conservatory.
Her Tujia Dance originated in a fieldtrip she took from the Shanghai Conservatory to visit the Tujia people in Hunan Province and her effort “…to produce a sonic portrayal of the Tujia people’s rural life.” The sound of the delicate celeste and harp stood out for me. Huang’s rhythmic organization is reminiscent of Stravinsky in its layered and elaborate structures, all handled quite well by Tennessee-bred Maestro Anthony Parnther. It seems that he has been championing Huang’s work for some time and we eagerly await a recording!
Next up was Jasmine Barnes’ Kinsfolknem, (pronounced “kinsfolk and ‘em”) a “celebration of family and extended family gathering,” which highlights “…the sound world of places and themes surrounding Black family gatherings.” A composer, educator, and vocalist with no fewer than five full-length stage works to her name, Barnes is a member of the “Blacknificent Seven,” a mutually supportive collective of composers that formed during the pandemic. (I am proud to say that, including the current review, works by 5 of these 7 composers have been discussed/covered in the pages of MCR: covered composers include Jessie Montgomery, Shawn E. Okpebholo, Nashville’s own Dave Ragland, Carlos Simon, while we still await works by Damien Geter and Joel Thompson in the Music City).
Barnes’ Kinsfolknem is a beautifully conceived composition which seems to engage with the long history of third-stream works. Apart from Ellington, Still, and perhaps Gershwin, one can hear some Gunter Schuller in the conception. Most remarkably though, and this is probably a result of the “Kinsfolk” aspect of the composition, there is a Milhaudesque (I’m thinking of the opening to La Création du monde) and Dixieland democratic sensibility to her composition, a collective perspective sourced in the early identity of New Orlean’s Jazz– both in reedy timbre and in it’s a sense of collective improvisation. This sound is set within a Sinfonia concertante in which an ensemble of four woodwind musicians engage in dialogue amongst themselves and with the broader orchestra. This stellar ensemble in Nashville included the brothers Anthony (flute) and Demarre (clarinet) McGill, native Tennessean Andrew Brady (bassoon) and Titus Underwood (oboe).
Barnes’ first movement, “The Sunday Dinner,” brought out the blue napkins to go with the china, emphasizing not only the soloist abilities of the ensemble, but their abilities to blend, lead and join the broader orchestra. This was when I remembered the fact that 3/4s of the ensemble held a Principal Chair at a major symphony orchestra at some point. This synthesis was aided, of course, by Maestro Parnther’s gentle but clear direction towards that rich, stunning sound.
Hometown favorite Underwood’s part in the second movement “The Repast” was played with his characteristic rich tone and easy, fluent technique. The finale, a ragtime cum bebop “Reunion,” was exciting, fresh, exuberant, and well-deserving of the standing ovation. Given her remarkable ability to construct clear and exquisite moments with an orchestra, one can understand Barnes’ emphasis on vocal (the operatic, dramatic and biblical) compositions. However, given her demonstrated genius for smoothly merging dissimilar 20th century American styles within an absolute formal organization (the Sinfonia concertante of all things!), I, for one, want to hear more of her instrumental works as soon as possible.
After intermission, and all of this wonderful 20th and 21st Century music, we returned to our seats to hear the Felix Mendelssohn’s romantic 5th Symphony, “the Reformation.” Mendelssohn, part of a prominent Jewish family that had baptized the composer into the Lutheran faith, this symphony relays the heroic victory of Protestantism through the thematic transformation of the old chorale “Ein feste Burg.” Parnther handled Mendelssohn’s delicate polyphony in the first movement’s appearance with great care, ensuring precision and balance in the Palestrinian counterpoint. The bright, exuberant scherzo led to a lyrical slow movement where Peter Otto’s marvelous section gave us a gorgeous melodic line. The finale and the dénouement with its victorious return of the chorale hymn, topped off the night with yet another moment of breathtaking beauty.
The Nashville Symphony has, for some time, demonstrated a dual mastery, an ability to create powerful interpretations of the most recent works, even as they refresh, remake, and rejuvenate the masterpieces of old. As such, this program played to their unique strengths. But even more so, as I drove home to Antioch, along Murfreesboro road (route 41), through the melting pot of South Nashville, past the Coptic and Christian churches, the murals, the burrito trucks, the Ethiopian coffee houses, the Chinese Restaurants and all of the beautiful diversity, I realized that Maestro Parnther’s program as reflective of “Nashville” as anything else scheduled this season at the Schermerhorn—he still knows “his old stomping ground.” The Nashville Symphony will perform again at the end of the month with a Tchaikovsky Celebration starring Oliver Herbert (cello) and Tony Siqi Yun (piano). Tickets available here.
From the Nashville Opera
The Bloody Tragedy Lucia di Lammermoor by Gaetano Donizetti
The bloody tragedy Lucia di Lammermoor by Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848) originally premiered in 1835. It is a Romantic opera is loosely based on the novel by Sir Walter Scott, The Bride of Lammermoor, and is known for its lush music and the histrionics of the Mad Scene, one of opera’s most technically challenging soprano coloratura roles. The story follows two star-crossed lovers. On one side, we find a young girl, Lucia Ashton, and her failing aristocratic family, in financial crisis and feuding with another family, the Ravenswoods. The other star-crossed lover is Edgardo Ravenwood. Despite this, after a series of unfortunate events and deceptions, Lucia is manipulated into marrying a man she does not know, and is heartbroken. Chaos ensues.
Set in the Scottish moorlands, the costumes, originally designed for the Utah Opera by Susan Allred, and the overall color scheme were comprised of rich green, crimson, blue, velvets, and plaid; they were immediate eye catchers. The colors and red hair of siblings Enrico and Lucia transported the audience back in time. The lighting, by designer Barry Steele, played a large role in creating the ambiance for each scene. From lighting up the stained-glass windows in the first scene, to using brilliant silhouettes portraying latticework windows, and, in Edgardo’s last scene, the outlines of the gates to his family’s tomb, as well as changing the backdrops colors to portray Lucia’s bi-polar moods, the lighting work in the production was well done.
The chorus was delightful. There was energy and banter at every corner of the stage. Their charisma and the sound as the chorus gasped and gawked as Lucia’s wedding night unfolded helped set the stage as much as the set design, which was splendid.
In addition, Dean Williamson, Nashville Opera’s music director, and the orchestra were the unseen heroes of the opera. The orchestra’s lush, romantic sound continuously filled the hall, and the harp in particular, played by Vonda Darr, was exquisite.
The first act opened with the aforementioned stained glass windows, a permanent feature of the opera provided by the New Orleans Opera Association, lit with blues and light reds during Act 1’s first few scenes. Rainelle Krause, playing Lucia, enters in the first act, second scene telling her friend, the maid Alisa, played by Sara Crigger, another talent, of her dreams sitting by a huge fountain, the stage’s centerpiece. Here, the audience is introduced to Rainelle’s crystalline voice and vocal acuity for the first time as she sings about her beloved Edgardo (César Delgado), who soon arrives to tell Lucia that he must leave for France. Edgardo asks Lucia to marry him, saying he will go to her brother Enrico to end the feud between their families so the two can be married. Lucia refuses, saying their love must stay a secret for now. The two exchange vows and rings before God, and Edgardo leaves.
In the next scene, the audience learns more about Enrico, played by Timothy Mix. His facial expressions were fantastic and as dramatic as his voice. Insanity must run in the family, because he seems about two steps away from it. His domineering and lascivious personality is shown in Act 1, Scene 3, as he manipulates Lucia into believing her beloved Edgardo has betrayed her.
For me, one of the highlights of Saturday night’s performance was the Sextet. “Chi mi Frena in tal Momento” is the fallout of Edgardo’s sudden return, discovering that Lucia is married, and Lucia simultaneously realizing she has been lied to by her brother and the Chaplain. During the sextet, Lucia, Edgardo, Enrico, Raimondo, Arturo, and Alisa all expressed their feelings about Lucia’s marriage. The sextet began with the whole cast, besides Edgardo and Enrico, frozen in place. The two sing, hands on the hilts of their swords, wanting to fight but unable to. Lucia was the next to enter, followed by Raimondo, Alisa, and finally Arturo. A spotlight landed on each cast member, casting a brighter light and differentiating the singers from the chorus, still frozen in place.
Following the sextet, Edgardo’s death scene was touching. The curtain still down, Edgardo walked across the front of the stage with nothing but the shadows of his family’s final resting place in the background. The effect was simple but effective, focusing the audience on Edgardo’s desolation at having been betrayed by his beloved Lucia, who is currently murdering her husband in the hope of being reunited with him. Delgado’s instrument was beautiful, with a direct, radiant tone. Donizetti’s melody fit so well with his voice that it seemed to be written for him. William Guanbo Su, playing the Chaplain Raimondo Bidebent, was the first to witness the horrors committed by the mentally unstable Lucia. He did a convincing job of heralding in Lucia’s coming Mad Scene. His rich voice and the shock written across his face in the aftermath of seeing Arturo dead, stabbed to death at his wife’s hand, was well done. Though he and Enrico were wrong for forcing Lucia to marry someone against her will, as I watched Bidebent cradle his head, praying, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
Attention doesn’t stay on the Chaplain for long as Lucia makes her entrance. She swept onto the grand marble staircase, and I was immediately drawn in. Starting with her back to the audience, her hand, covered in blood, moved with a sick grace as she brandished the same knife she used to kill her husband, Arturo. When she finally turned to face the audience, staggering her way down the stairs, her expression was angelic, quite a discrepancy from the blood covering her face. The front of her bridal gown was also stained red. The chorus, already buzzing with fear from Chaplain’s shocking revelation, was horrified by Lucia’s appearance. Their fear juxtaposed against Lucia’s madness created quite the scene. Lucia, having gone mad, at times seemed happy: ready to see her true love, Edgardo, again, only to suddenly become fearful, crying and pacing the stage, waving her dagger wildly at her wedding guests.
I cannot say enough about Rainelle’s constant, clear, healthy sound. The Mad Scene alone is over twenty minutes long, and her impressive coloratura and crystal-clear high notes were a dream. Her back and forth with the flute solo, performed by Deanna Little, was entrancing. In my interview with Krause, she stated that she believes Lucia can hear the flute and is singing in response, a sign of her madness. During the performance, it was apparent that Lucia could not only hear the flute but was also looking for it. Lucia’s rapidly changing emotions and fluctuating melody added to the sense of instability throughout the piece. The melismatic phrases seemed never-ending, and in the rare instances where the flute wasn’t imitating her, or vice versa, but playing and singing in unison, they sounded like one instrument. Finally, fantasizing that Edgardo is with her again, she promises to be with him forever in heaven. Lucia ends her own life, and the opera ends.
The story of Lucia is a sad, twisted tale. Perhaps Lucia and Edgardo do find each other in the afterlife, but the audience is only left with the tragic aftermath. Directed by John Hoomes, the cast, orchestra, costumes, and lighting director created an excellent production of Lucia di Lammermoor.
Broadway at TPAC
Kimberly Akimbo
The premise to this show is both common and strange. Kimberly is a 16 year old dealing with her dysfunctional family, teenage aspirations, and high school. What is strange is that she looks like a 60 year old woman due to a rare genetic disease. While a vague and fictional illness, it’s loosely based on progeria. This show somehow has strong morals and a powerful message while having me completely onboard with comic underage felonies.
The show is set in 1999, as the playbill says, “Before kids had cell phones.” This is an excellent choice, not only sticking with the setting of the original play, but avoiding the often cringy and dated attempts at hipness that other Broadway plays have recently made (like flossing in Mrs. Doubtfire and Wendy needlessly recording a TikTok in Peter Pan). Carolee Carmello does a great job of playing a teenager despite her real life age of 62. Her motions and manner of speaking feel like those of a teenage girl without any forced girlishness. Her voice is heavy with vibrato, unlike the other singers, adding to the difference. The other cast members playing her teenage friends are excellently cast. I think they’re actually teenagers, or if not, so close you can’t tell the difference. This is especially important in this show because you need Kimberly to stand out as an elderly-looking woman hanging with teens.
The show begins at the skating rink. We’re introduced to Seth, Kimberly’s love interest, and four other teenagers who not only have conflicting crushes on each other (forget love triangle, I’m not even sure what shape this one makes), but who are focused on their show choir studies. Kimberly interacts shyly with them. Then after a simple but satisfying downpour of snow her dad Buddy picks her up over two hours late because he’d been out drinking. At home is her narcissist mother singing my favorite song from the show “Hello, Darling,” which is her recording a video to the baby she is pregnant with.
The music to the show is solid. David Lindsay-Abaire’s lyrics are so good, and the music is fun and really grew on me. When I listened to the broadway cast recording after seeing the show I appreciated the music much more, despite the album’s sloppy overuse of pitch correction. Many of the songs are hilarious and perfectly matched to the on-stage action. The choreography to the show is often quite simple: singing to a camera while sitting on a couch, standing and facing the audience while singing a ballad. But there are other times where it’s surprising: the moment when characters who have been walking around on stage in ice skates go onto the ice and are suddenly skating around the stage (this bit of magic is done with liquid glycerin). “Happy for Her” is sung by Buddy while he’s driving Kimberly and Seth to school, and each move of the steering wheel results in realistic sways and bumps from the characters, getting sillier and sillier the more wildly Buddy drives. Simple slapstick is used when the group of teens tries to wash checks with Aunt Debra.
The pacing of the show is great. Two acts with one intermission, the first act introduces all the characters and their conflicts, and instead of leaving the second act to the denouement, the primary conflicts take place here. Kimberly’s criminal aunt Debra has followed them to their new home and takes over their basement, then convinces Kimberly and the other teens to join her in using a stolen mailbox for check fraud.
An aspect of the writing that is particularly good is the casual hurts that Kimberly experiences from everyone, their heedless remarks that remind her of her age or mortality. Except for her parents and Aunt Debra, no one is cruel or unkind; they’re just thoughtless teenagers. And Kimberly shows her hurt but doesn’t wallow in it, showcasing inner resilience and strength that not only is miraculous given her parents, but is the reaction that we’d all like to think we’d have in the same situation. Her love interest Seth also lets these casual comments slip, but we still like him. He shares an unhappy home life and a familiarity with tragedy, yet doesn’t let that control his life. His passion is for anagrams, which gives us the title of the musical: Kimberly Lovaco can be rearranged to say Cleverly Akimbo. Akimbo is to have a hand on the hip with the elbow turned out, or for another limb to be in a bent position. Merriam Webster clarifies that the term, while originally neutral, now implies defiance and confidence. Anagrams are the metaphor for the show in that you can take what you’ve been given and make something new with it. This is what Seth teaches Kimberly, and so we root for them because their relationship is more than just “he’s cute she’s cute.” Miguel Gil plays Seth with great musicality, charm, and enthusiasm.
The show isn’t just about nice teens being friends: Kimberly’s parents struggle and cause trouble for her, and her criminal aunt tries to involve the teens in an illegal enterprise. All three of these adults are delightfully and comedically horrible in their own ways, while remaining relatable in some aspects of their humanity.
The main struggle and message of the show are about mortality and living life now. In a scene where all the teenagers are sitting and talking, one of them says that right now isn’t real life, they’re just in purgatory for their future real lives. Each talks about what they’ll do in the future. Then they all look at Kimberly. She is silent: most with her condition don’t make it past sixteen, and she just celebrated that birthday. Unlike them, she’s stuck in the now because there is no future. In the touching song “Now,” they communicate how unreliable the future is, how they can hope to do things but keep in mind that tomorrow might never arrive.
We all face death, imminent or decades from now, we just don’t know. This show reminds us to face that death and allow the knowledge to prompt us to live life in the now. Like many old adages this sounds dully moralizing, but like all good fiction, this play brings this truth to life.
The end of the show doesn’t fix all the problems faced in the story, there’s no miracle cure or sudden reform of a parent. But it is uplifting and happy and brave, and the whole story’s sincerity ends sincerely. There’s some play logic: I’m totally in support of some federal felonies, and I’m able to laugh at the actually horrible parents and aunts and their activities. But the meaning is only helped by laughter.
Kimberly Akimbo is at TPAC through April 13. For more information, see Kimberly Akimbo | Tennessee Performing Arts Center and Kimberly Akimbo.
At the Fisk Chapel
Upon These Shoulders: The Living Legacy
On April 4th, in Fisk’s historic Memorial Chapel, Intersection, Choral Arts Link, and the W. Crimm Singers (aka Wakanda Chorale) presented the their annual concert series Upon these Shoulders: The Living Legacy, celebrating “…the many heroes of the Civil Rights Movement, historically and today.” This space positively echoes with history. It was in this room nearly 70 years ago that Martin Luther King Jr. gave his “What is a Man” sermon, and also the campus where he returned to “…not to bring inspiration, but to gain inspiration from the great movement that has taken place in this community,” in celebration of the organization and resiliency of the movement here. This is to say nothing of the other figures in American history that have passed its over its threshold (e.g. Duke Ellington, Thurgood Marshall, Booker T. Washington, Louis Armstrong, W.C. Handy right on through Kamala Harris et al).
After a remarkable introduction by the charismatic Harriet Wallace, who announced the “threads” that would organize the evening, the performances by the Intersection quartet began with the first thread, three compositions from “…women who dared to lead.” These works synthesized, in different ways, folk and popular music styles within a classical framework. Rhiannon Giddens “At the Purchaser’s Option with Variations” for example, is an arrangement for quartet of one of Giddens’ masterworks in Americana. As Americana, the song is a frank discussion of a horrid context coupled with an effort to express the perspectives of those involved, here a powerful story of trial and resilience by a slave woman and/as mother. The arrangement for quartet was commissioned by the Kronos Quartet in 2017 and was played on Friday with great eloquence by Intersection’s ensemble. In particular, the first violinist Christina McGann engaged the rich, blue melody with a strong and beautiful vigor.
Charlton Singleton’s “Testimony,” another Kronos commission, takes as its influence the Gullah Ring Shout, especially the “Gullah Clap” and its later iteration in the Prayer Band. Here, cellist Kaitlyn Raitz’s melodic line against the other player’s stomp was remarkable, brimming with emotion. However, the best of the three, in my humble opinion, was Jessie Montgomery’s “Source Code.” A stirring dirge, the long-held notes and slow-moving harmonies seemed to make the walls of the old chapel sing in accompaniment. For all of its history, the Fisk Chapel might just be the best place in the city to hear chamber music (my ears were reminded of Rockport’s Shalin Liu Performance Center, way up north).
The next thread, “a crescendo of courage, echoing from trailblazers to the next generation” featured performances and a celebration of retired Professor Valija Mellins Bumbulis. Prof. Bumbulis, a graduate of the Chicago Conservatory of Music, had served on the faculty of Fisk University from 1974 to 2015, training Fisk Jubilee Singers and future alumni who would succeed in everything from successful opera careers to becoming finalists on American Idol. It is just wonderful that they are still celebrating her ten years into retirement.
In this thread, Elise Golden’s performance of Undine Smith Moore’s arrangement of “I want to die while you love me” and Kristen Jone’s performance of Florence Price’s arrangement of “You Won’t Find a Man Like Jesus” were both undertaken with a maturity, and clear, exacting intonation that demonstrated the strength of Fisk’s current vocal program—a better complement than anything else on the importance and enduring strength of Prof. Bumbulis’ career.
The W. Crimm Singers’ (“Wakanda Chorale”) performance made up the evening’s third thread, “…a celestial chorus, voices of past pioneers guiding tomorrow’s probes.” It also showcased arrangements by Florence Price and Undine Smith Moore. Florence Price has been often featured of late in mainstream classical music, however, Moore has her own remarkable story.
Born in 1904 and raised in Virginia, Moore studied at Fisk University where, in 1924, she was given a scholarship to also study at the Juilliard School. She would then receive a Masters of Arts from Columbia and study composition at the Manhattan School of Music. After a long and distinguished career serving students and composing at Virginia Union University, Fisk honored her with the Humanitarian award in 1973, and Indiana University granted her an honorary doctorate two years later. “Striving after God,” the arrangement performed on Friday was inspired by Moore’s study of baroque counterpoint and the poetry of Michelangelo; it synthesizes the styles of hymnody and gospel.
The Crimm Singers demonstrated what is becoming their legendary Nashville sound (surely the result of Director Patrick Dailey’s deft leadership) with a crisp aural blend and an exacting attention to detail as beautiful as their brightly colored kente cloth sashes. This thread ended with “Jesus is All the World to Me” with a soloist whose range was simply staggering. As we all caught our breath, Ms. Wallace found her way back to the microphone and exclaimed “I heard a little Mahalia come out!” (Mahlia Jackson’s husband Ike studied at Fisk University in the 30’s—historic circles abound in a place like Fisk).
The final thread was, surely, the best of the evening. Described as “The legacy lives on, where history’s chorus and the music of the cosmos unite in exploration,” it featured Director Nita Smith’s MET singers, a Nashville-based children’s choir that was founded by the indomitable Margaret Campbelle-Holman. As always, the singers had a surprising sound, a rich texture and remarkable poise—particularly the young soloist in Campbelle-Holman’s stirring arrangement of Work’s “Hallelu,” it was beautifully performed. Further, it is worth remarking the strength of the MET ensemble—not only do they teach an impeccable musical practice, but they also teach respect and leadership, whether it be standing up for what’s right or simply assisting someone stepping of the stage—let’s hope that these children become tomorrow’s leaders!
As all these threads found their way back onto the stage (including MET singer alumni) for the final number by the combined ensemble, “Lift Every Voice and Sing” I realized that after this beautiful concert I was inspired more than I have been in some time. In these days of division, anger, and hate, this was a gorgeous respite. In this way, I think I might have a better understanding of the inscription “Arise shine, for thy light is come…” that adorns the entrance to that great hall.
The Nashville Rep
Sunday in the Park with George
Inspired by Georges Seurat’s famous painting, “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte,” Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s masterpiece Sunday in the Park with George is a Pulitzer-Prize winning musical (a rarity) which peeks into the life of the artist. Seurat is struggling to make meaningful art while maintaining a relationship with his lover. Amid the scorn of the artistic community, Seurat’s artistic ability thrives while his love diminishes. Sunday in the Park with George merges past and present into a poignant and glorious exploration of what it takes, and what it costs, to be an artist.
The Nashville Repertory Theatre will be performing Sunday in the Park with George at TPAC’s Polk Theater April 4-13. For tickets and other information, see Sunday in the Park with George — Nashville Repertory Theatre.
Coming to Nashville
Kimberly Akimbo
Kimberly is about to turn 16 and recently moved with her family to a new town in suburban New Jersey. Kim is forced to navigate family dysfunction, a rare genetic condition that rapidly accelerates the aging process, her first crush…and possible felony charges. The 2023 Tony-winner for best musical, based on David Lindsay-Abaire’s play, unfolds like a dark fairy tale, as whimsical as it is piercing. Yet the effect is powerfully life-affirming in the way it reminds audiences of the preciousness of the time we have at hand. Full of quirky humor and social satire on grownup immaturity, the musical features a score by Jeanine Tesori and David Lindsay-Abaire that will leave you both grinning and deeply touched.
At TPAC’s Jackson Hall April 8-13. For tickets and more information, see Kimberly Akimbo | Tennessee Performing Arts Center, and for more information on the national tour, see Kimberly Akimbo.
At the Darkhorse Theater
A Tiny Beautiful Play
I hadn’t heard of the book Tiny Beautiful Things or its TV and stage adaptations before Women in Theatre Nashville announced this show. I had, however, heard of Cheryl Strayed’s other book Wild, which was adapted into a 2012 film starring Reese Witherspoon. While Wild is a straightforward memoir of Strayed’s backpacking journey of the Pacific Crest Trail, Tiny Beautiful Things is different, being a compilation of essays that she wrote over two years while serving as the Dear Sugar advice columnist for The Rumpus (the column is archived here). The people writing to this online literary magazine write well, and write full proper letters; imagine Dear Abby except with talented writers and no word count restrictions. Advice columns are uniquely enjoyable with their mixture of practical edification, entertainment, and schadenfreude, scratching some of the same itch as gossip or reality TV except with a claim to personal improvement.
A show comprised of letters requesting and receiving advice might sound like a dreary series of moralizing monologues, but the pacing of the 90 minute show is excellent, managing changes of topics without extended slogs of tragedy or wild oscillations from heavy to light topics. It never dragged or caused me to glance at my watch. The play was adeptly adapted for the stage by Nia Vardalos, who starred as Sugar in the 2016 premier performance. You probably know her as the writer and star of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The letters she chose for the play were either unabridged or only lightly edited from the originals, maintaining the authenticity of the questions and answers.
I attended Tiny Beautiful Things on March 28th at their regular venue, The Darkhorse Theater. There was one set: Sugar’s house. National park posters were on the walls and scattered toys were evidence of her two children. A rectangular kitchen table with chairs stood stage left. Jules Robinson’s design was well-balanced and made the space feel lived in. The props that characters later used were organically included with other objects of decor.
As the play begins Sugar enters the house, tidies up toys left in the middle of the room, and then settles at the table with her computer. After briefly trying to work, she leans back and scrolls on her phone through TikToks. Kate Johnson’s series of audiobytes for this got laughs from the audience. Sugar is interrupted by an email from a friend, asking her if she’d like to take over his unpaid anonymous online advice column. While at first typing out a refusal, she decides to accept the role of Dear Sugar. The three other members of the cast come on stage and call out for advice in quick succession until one of them takes the center of the stage and gives a monologue: the first full letter asking for advice. Sugar listens, then answers. The show has some very funny moments discussing infidelity, santa kinks, and hapless dating advice, but much of the show focuses on intimately vulnerable human struggles. In her producer’s note, Stephanie Dillard writes: “Its premise is simple: people write letters seeking guidance, and Sugar responds. Yet in performance, these seemingly ordinary exchanges swell into something extraordinary, a surge of compassion and emotional resonance that far exceeds the play’s modest scale.”
This show requires a lot of the lead actress. Sugar is a unique person whose letters show her to be empathetic instead of pitying, having experienced great pain and made it to the other side. She isn’t afraid to call people out but never casts them out. She is funny but not a comedian. Strikingly for an advice columnist, she uses many personal stories as illustrations of the point she is making in her advice. This is tricky because anyone who has sat through many sermons or lectures can tell when personal anecdotes are genuinely helpful to the point being made, and when they’re merely self-absorbed. Sugar is never self-indulgent or glib. She uses the power of stories to illuminate her advice so we see her truisms as the hard, real truths they are. Kyla Ledes did this with grace. She had many monologues throughout the play, and her delivery always fit the moment perfectly, whether she was discussing her childhood sexual abuse, dating advice, motherhood, kleptomania, or grief. Many people, when portraying grief, make it clear that they haven’t yet experienced it in their own lives: it is not sadness, depression, or loneliness. While it may include all or some of those things, grief is a primary emotion, like joy or anger. Ledes’ performance was genuine. I emphasize this because some of the letters delve deeply into difficult topics, and any sense of inauthenticity would have spoiled the show.
The three supporting actors were fun to watch and seemed to have a blast: how many other shows allow them to go through so many characters and ranges of emotion in quick succession? JJ Lee’s comedy background certainly showed in her acting, and Fiona Barrett and Robert Coles did best in their tragic roles.
I attended the show with my mother. Some of the topics included in the show have touched our own lives. Discussing the show naturally led to a discussion of our own lives, and a wonderful conversation we might not have otherwise had. Unlike many other plays, a discussion of it afterwards basically requires fascinating and vulnerable conversation.
WIT is a young nonprofit organization, founded in 2023. Prior to Tiny Beautiful Things they’ve done two plays (links to our interview here and review here). What impresses me most about WIT is their excellent taste: they choose shows that are more than just entertainment and are within the abilities of a new, small organization. They haven’t announced their next season yet, but judging by their track record, it’s going to be good.
While the brief run of Tiny Beautiful Things is over, you can learn more about WIT here.
Get to Know the GCO, part one:
The Gateway Chamber Orchestra Proves themselves to be Gamers at the Customs House Museum!
On March 30, a small crowd gathered at the Customs House Museum in Clarksville. At 3:00 pm, the lights dimmed and the sound of a string quartet could be heard warming up from behind a black curtain. Then the President of the Gateway Chamber Orchestra, Michael Hood, came out and announced the theme of the concert: Mystic World, a collection of string quartet arrangements of music from video games such as: Chrono Trigger, Secret of Mana, Final Fantasy, and Legend of Zelda. The quartet emerged to applause and began to play their pieces, announcing each set of pieces from the stage as they played them. The quartet included Francesca Bass on Violin 1, Hannah Sorrells-Tyler on Violin 2, Tony Parce on Viola, and Andrew Dunn on Cello. Dunn was also the arranger for most of the pieces.
The concert started with an arrangement of the main theme from Chrono Trigger, perfectly setting the mood for the rest of the concert, a heroic and majestic arrangement that captures the feeling of a full orchestra. Following that was a performance of “Still of the Night” from Secret of Mana. It was a piece driven by a lyrical violin solo with the rest of the instruments accompanying it with a slow pulse.
The group then played a few pieces from the game Final Fantasy “To Zanarkand” and a medley of several character themes from Final Fantasy 7. The piece started with a graceful melody in the violin before transitioning to a menacing cello ostinato with dissonant harmonies and building to a faced paced climax before transitioning back to a mournful theme over a droning cello and ending with a beautiful chorale texture. These were some of the pieces the crowd was most receptive to as Final Fantasy seemed to have the biggest fan base in the audience. Following that, they played an arrangement of the Intro and Main Title to Pokemon Red and Blue which managed to invoke the feeling of a baroque dance. After returning from a break, the group returned and played an arrangement of the Main Theme to Octopath Traveler 2, a piece the cellist Andrew Dunn had originally played on for the game’s original soundtrack. Following this, a medley of several themes from Fire Emblem was performed. It featured pizzicato strings juxtaposed against sonorous melodies in the violins and fast paced repetitive melodies that built to a huge, grandiose sound before giving way to violin melodies floating over a cello drone.
Finally, a suite of pieces from the Legend of Zelda was performed. Before they started the suite, the violist, Tony Parce, stood up and complemented Andrew Dunn on his arranging skills and commented on how he managed to transform much of the music in the last suite into something that sounds like Debussy. The first piece they played in the suite was the main theme to The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. The next piece was a standout of the concert. It was an arrangement of the “Gerudo Valley” theme from Ocarina of Time. The strings imitated textures of the guitar and used the creaks and groans of the violins to emulate sounds of various percussion. After that was an arrangement of “Zelda’s Lullaby” by Patti Rudicill. The final piece performed was a medley of themes from Tears of the Kingdom. The piece had quick scale runs and tremolo emulating wind, juxtaposed against staccato accompaniment with quick stabs.
My bias towards the final Zelda pieces denotes a difficulty with the concert: they are the only ones I had a lot of familiarity with before I came to the concert. I could hear the emulations of different instruments in the arrangements because I had heard the original pieces before. Without knowing what to expect, and the context of the other pieces and what they were referring to, I could not fully appreciate the wonderful arrangements of Andrew Dunn. The lack of information before the concert, coupled with the absence of a list of works on the program itself, is problematic for anyone interested in either preparing for the concert or hearing them again after.
Overall, I enjoyed the performances and felt that they were well performed. The ensemble features two more events (different pieces/performers) at First Presbyterian Church and Grace Lutheran Church on April 13th and 27th respectively. Even if you can’t make it out to the other concerts you should still make it out to the Customs House Museum. There you can currently see the 55th National Juried Exhibition of the Women Artists of the West featuring paintings and pastels of women artists.
