Nuevo de Music City
Spanish American Culture 1500-1800: A Collaboration between Music City Baroque and the Frist
(Spanish Version Here: https://wp.me/pabEmc-2z1)
In collaboration with the Frist Art Museum, and paired with the museum’s current exhibition Art and Imagination in Spanish America, 1500-1800, the Music City Baroque is holding a concert at the museum on Saturday, January 13, 2024 titled Music and Musicians in Spanish Latin America, 1500-1800. The exhibition, which presents a mixed media collection of highlights from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s collection of Spanish colonial art, displays an amazing diversity of artists drawing from a broad range of traditions expressed in both sacred and secular art, pushing against the received monolithic conception of Spanish American art.
An excellent example of the collection’s wealth is Manuel de Arellano’s Virgin of Guadalupe (1691). The work is a meticulous 1691 copy of the original, an acheiropoietic image (not created by a human) of the virgin on a tilma (indigenous cape), which remains in Mexico City’s Basilica of Guadalupe where it is venerated as a relic of the virgin. This basilica is said to be the most-visited Catholic shrine in the world. According to the legend, and as depicted in the four corners of the painting, the Madonna appeared to Juan Diego three times so that he might convince the local Bishop to build her a chapel to the North of Mexico City. Her appearance on the tilma among rare flowers (depicted in the lower right in Arellano’s painting) is said to have ultimately convinced the Bishop. To the painting, which is a replica of the tilma, Arellanos added the inscription “touched to the original” (tocada a la original) to emphasize that the copy was authentic and shared a connection with the relic. Along with this beautiful work, the exhibition features a generous sample of paintings, sculptures and decorative arts for visitors to explore.
Similarly, according to an email from Board President Mareike Sattler, the Music City Baroque’s concert will present a variety of music from different regions” [of Spanish America] throughout the time period. A fine and related example of which is the 17th-century Quechua-hymn “Hanaq Pachap” from Peru. The hymn, a processional hymn to the Virgin Mary, likely written and composed by Franciscan priest Juan Pérez de Bocanegra in the Quechua language. As part of Bocanegra’s book Ritual formulario, the hymn is said to be the earliest work of vocal polyphony printed in the Western Hemisphere. Of the Hymn, Bocanegra said: “The Prayer that follows I did write in Sapphic verse, in the Quechua language, in honor of the Immaculate Virgin: the music is composed for four voices such that cantors may sing it for processions, upon entering into the church, and on days dedicated to our Lady, and on her feast days.” The lyrics to the hymn are carefully molded in order to maintain a syncretic balance—they might be interpreted in a way that accommodates both an orthodox Catholic belief even as they continue in the traditional Quechua culture.
Excerpt from Second Verse: “Attend to our pleas, O column of ivory, Mother of God! Beautiful iris, yellow and white, receive this song we offer you; come to our assistance, show us the Fruit of your womb.” (Quechua: “Uyarihuai muchascaita Diospa rampan Diospamaman Yurac tocto hamancaiman Yupascalla, collpascaita Huahuaiquiman suyuscaita Ricuchillai.)
The hymn, with its homorhythmic construction, halting syncopation, vividly dramatic Marian lyrics and emphasis on native flowers, is considered to the aural equivalent of the Cuzco School of painting from the period in Peru. The Cuzco School drew a loose influence from the Flemish and Italian Renaissance, using bright colors of red, yellow and earth tones and lavish gold leaf in depictions of dramatic images. Although Arellano’s Virgin of Guadalupe is from the same period and carries some of these characteristics, its provenance is too far north to be of the Cuzco School.
One imagines that it will be in these broad cultural connections of belief, expression and cultural interaction that the exhibition and concert will find its greatest power. And, as Sattler relates, the concert promises a grand selection of works including music by Mexican born Mauel Zumaya, a fandango for Baroque guitar by Santiago de Murcia as well as “recently recovered pieces from the Jesuit missions in Bolivia” and others. While an exhibition that seeks to portray the art of several cultures across two continents through three centuries will, by necessity, be reductive and redundant, one must note, for the Music City, this collaboration between the Frist and Music City Baroque is sure to be a great start! The Concert is on Saturday, January 13th and the exhibition continues through January 28th in the Upper-Level Galleries of the Frist Museum.
This article is supported by a generous grant from
Funny Girl: Broadway at TPAC
Most of us know Funny Girl from the 1968 movie starring Barbra Streisand, who also starred in the original Broadway production of the musical. It’s a semi-autobiographical musical based on the life of Fanny Brice, who was a singer, actress, comedian, and radio personality. Framed as a flashback, the musical follows her journey from a star-struck teen who is told she isn’t pretty enough to succeed in show business, to getting her first roles, making her big break and falling in love. The second half of the musical focuses more on her life after professional success and her stormy relationship with a professional gambler. It’s a bittersweet comedy that emphasizes the humanity of its protagonist; it focuses more on its main character than on providing vicarious dream-fulfillment or success-bashing for the audience.
This Broadway revival is the first North American tour of the show since 1996, and features a slightly updated book by Harvey Fierstein. Katerina McCrimmon stars as Fanny Brice and is fantastic. She is funny, she can dance well and has great comedic timing. Most of all, her voice is superb, powerful enough to fill Andrew Jackson Hall, and with a wide range that is always in her control.
Another favorite on the stage is Izaiah Montaque Harris, who plays Eddie, Fanny’s friend and a choreographer who teaches her moves that help her get big. His tap dancing, which features notably several times, is the best I’ve seen in a live performance, and leaves me wondering why tap dancing has faded from much mainstream consciousness. There are many dance numbers, especially with the ensemble, and Ayodele Casel’s tap choreography was probably my favorite part of the production. A few times during the performance I could feel the vibrations of audience members tapping their feet.
The sets were well designed, and the costumes, designed by Susan Hilferty, were delightful. The lavish shows of Fanny’s time provide a great variety of costumes, including giant butterflies, flower headdresses, sparkle, and delightful period clothing.
With the classic 1960’s Broadway Sound, Funny Girl has melodies that stick in your head after the show. The funniest song is “His Love Makes Me Beautiful,” when Fanny Brice is early in her career and cast as a stunning bride in an opulent piece. She knows she doesn’t have the right stereotypical “beauty” look of the times for the song to be successful, so she adds one comic element to subvert the entire song from sentiment to hilarity. Here’s a link to a clip from the 1968 film:The Most Beautiful Bride | Funny Girl | Love Love. “You Are Woman, I Am Man,” is a funny song of seduction, although the love interest, Nick Arnstein (played with charming humor by Stephen Mark Lukas) is a bundle of red flags. The most notable song of the musical is “Don’t Rain on My Parade,” with its contagious energy and rebellious catchiness, which Katerina McCrimmon sings with defiant vigor.
One part of the musical hasn’t aged terribly well; the character Nick Arnstein is an weak, insecure man who is upset about having a wife more successful than him, and he is given much sympathetic attention in the second act. Luckily for us now, most of us consider that regressive and not an understandable issue of pride. Of course, contemporary attitudes don’t change the issues people struggled with 100 years ago, and this shortcoming of the play can’t overpower its quality and joyful spirit.
Any fan of the theatre will enjoy this musical. Its music, humor, and story are iconic and it’s a spectacle of dance and colorful costumes. It is a memorable and unique show with an odd hybrid nostalgia of watching a 2024 performance of a classic 1960’s musical presenting its impression of early 20th century Broadway.
Funny Girl is at TPAC January 2-7. For tickets and more information, see Funny Girl | Broadway Shows in Nashville at TPAC, and Funny Girl on Broadway
Musical Whirlwind: Fanfares, Waltzes, and the Irresistible Mambo Beat!
(Spanish version here: https://wp.me/pabEmc-2yI)
In the innate expression of the human condition, which came first, music or dance? The mystery in this question, where all answers can be legitimate, has been essential to the authenticity of artistic creation. Within classical music, dances have inspired small pieces such as Bach’s Partitas and Inventions, and have served as an articulating element in monumental symphonies such as Mahler’s 8th. This artistic conjunction reveals the nature of being: its need to gather in community and with its inner self.
The concept of “Symphonic Dances” arises from the nationalist projection that both Romantic and Modern composers employed to portray their roots and the contexts that shaped their musical essence. Within this distinctive style, the Nashville Philharmonic chose compositions by Leonard Bernstein and Sergei Rachmaninoff as part of the program performed on December 12th and 19th under the baton of Christopher Norton and Tal Benatar, at the Casa de Dios Church and Plaza Mariachi. The repertoire also featured Robert Schumann’s Konzertstück for Four Horns, with soloists Leslie Norton, Radu Rusu, Hunter Sholar, and Anna Spina -members of the Nashville Symphony- who skillfully weaved the wonderful timbral textures of this piece.
Immersed in this repertoire are memories, omens, eras, and races. Both Bernstein and Rachmaninoff reflect on the impact of immigration on American society, and the myriad of feelings that become entangled with the expectations of an outsider. The Symphonic Dances from West Side Story synthesizes the soundscape Bernstein composed for a Broadway musical into an orchestral suite. West Side Story transforms the conflict between the Capulet and Montague families in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet into the urban rivalry of the “Sharks” (Puerto Ricans) and “Jets” (Americans) gangs. Bernstein depicts this feud by alternating Cuban rhythms such as mambo and cha-cha-chá with swing and jazz. The orchestration of the suite preserves both the Latin percussion and the Big Band, creating a pleasing effect of dissociation between the orchestra families. Throughout the piece, the audience is exposed to a range of unexpected colors. In the first movement “Prologue”, the orchestra is muted highlighting the exquisite blending in the unison of the xylophone with the piano and the vibraphone with the harp.
Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances follows a similar thematic thread to Bernstein’s work. However, in this piece, the composer assumes the role of a present narrator. The composition consolidates Rachmaninoff’s musical journey in his native Russia, and in the nations that welcomed him when he had to escape the Revolution. The first movement takes off with a vehement march that extends at length into a motif composed of only three notes. Just as in Bernstein’s work, the saxophone prominently features among solo lines, acting as an emotional prelude to climactic sections. The second movement is a waltz that doesn’t hold back in bursting into harmonies and effects in the brass, without overshadowing the delicate melodies of the strings and woodwinds. The third movement blends the Russian Orthodox chant with the Dies Irae, hinting at Rachmaninoff’s farewell to the musical and earthly realm. This suspicion is confirmed at the end of his manuscript, where the words ‘I thank Thee, Lord’ can be read. However, this movement within its continuous alternation between serene and agitated changes in tempo, does not convey the anguish of approaching the end but rather the triumph of life over death.
In the “symphonic dances,” the role of the brass is pronounced given its sonority traditionally associated with ceremony and celebration. The Konzertstück for Four Horns upholds this conception by presenting the first movement in fanfare style. In addition to this, Schumann further explores the ritornello form to structure his innovative proposal of a multiple concerto. Likewise, the lines of each soloist are arranged in keeping with the characteristics of this period; the horns interact between duets and chorales with outstanding moments of virtuosity. The distribution of the melodies in the piece, both of the soloists and the orchestra, highlights another element in common with Bernstein and Rachmaninoff’s dances. The usual structure for a symphony orchestra work is altered by the intimate and vulnerable sound of chamber music. Multiple conversations between solos define episodes of introspection and transition within the festive orchestration of the dances. One such episode is evident in the sweet introduction of a viola-led string quartet in “Somewhere” from the Symphonic Dances of West Side Story. In the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances, a similar lapse happens in the woodwind family, where the delicacy in the counterpoint of the voices makes this section a sublime moment.
As part of the Nashville Philharmonic’s initiatives, they actively seek new audiences in cultural, academic, and religious venues. Pursuing this mission, the orchestra has organized free concerts in 21 metropolitan districts of Nashville over the past 20 years. For this event, the chosen venues were within the city’s Latino community, and as a result, the repertoire featured the Symphonic Dances from West Side Story. At Casa de Dios, programs were thoughtfully distributed in Spanish, and the orchestra facilitated a connection between the conductors and the audience through a verbal translator.
de la Filarmónica de Nashville
Torbellino Musical: Fanfarrias, valses y el irresistible ritmo del ¡mambo!
(English version here: https://wp.me/pabEmc-2yG)
En la expresión innata de la condición humana, ¿qué surgió primero, la música o la danza? El misterio en este cuestionamiento donde todas las respuestas pueden ser legítimas, ha sido esencial en la autenticidad de la creación artística. Dentro de la música clásica las danzas han inspirado piezas pequeñas como las partitas y las invenciones de Bach, y han sido un elemento de articulación en monumentales sinfonías como la 8° de Mahler. Esta conjunción artística revela la naturaleza propia del ser; su necesidad de reunirse en comunidad, pero también con su interior.
El concepto de “Danzas Sinfónicas” surge de la proyección nacionalista que tanto compositores románticos como modernos utilizaron para retratar sus raíces y los contextos que forjaron su esencia musical. Dentro de este particular estilo, la Filarmónica de Nashville eligió las composiciones de Leonard Bernstein y Sergei Rachmaninoff como parte del programa musical que se interpretó el 12 y 19 de diciembre bajo la batuta de Christopher Norton y Tal Benatar, en la Iglesia Casa de Dios y en la Plaza Mariachi. En el repertorio se incluyó también el Concierto para Cuatro Cornos de Robert Schumann. Leslie Norton, Radu Rusu, Hunter Sholar y Anna Spina, miembros de la Sinfónica de Nashville, fueron los solistas encargados del maravilloso tejido tímbrico de esta pieza.
En este repertorio están inmersos recuerdos, presagios, épocas y razas. Tanto Bernstein como Rachmaninoff hacen una reflexión del impacto de la inmigración en la sociedad estadounidense y del cúmulo de sentimientos que se embrollan con las expectativas de un foráneo. Las Danzas Sinfónicas de West Side Story sintetizan en una suite orquestal la escenografía sonora que Bernstein compuso para un musical de Broadway. En West Side Story se transforma el conflicto de las familias Capuleto y Montesco de la obra de Shakespeare Romeo y Julieta, en la rivalidad urbana de las pandillas “Sharks” (puertorriqueños) y “Jets” (estadounidenses). Bernstein representa esta disputa alternando los ritmos cubanos como el mambo y el cha cha chá, con el swing y el jazz. Tanto la percusión latina como el formato de Big Band se preservaron en la orquestación de la suite, creando un agradable efecto de disociación entre las familias de la orquesta. Durante toda la pieza la audiencia está expuesta a una gama de colores inesperados. En el primer movimiento “Prologue”, la orquesta se silencia para resaltar la exquisita mezcla en los unísonos del xilófono con el piano y del vibráfono con el arpa.
Las Danzas Sinfónicas de Rachmaninoff siguen un hilo similar al de Bernstein, Sin embargo, en esta pieza el compositor actúa como narrador presente. En la obra se consolida el trayecto musical de Rachmaninoff en su tierra natal Rusia, y en las naciones que lo acogieron cuando tuvo que escapar de la Revolución. El primer movimiento despega con una vehemente marcha que se extiende extensamente en un motivo compuesto únicamente por tres figuras. Así como en la obra de Bernstein, el saxofón se destaca entre líneas solitarias que sirven de preámbulo emocional en las secciones de clímax. El segundo movimiento es un vals que no se contiene en estallar en armonías y efectos en los metales, sin opacar las delicadas melodías de las cuerdas y las maderas. En el tercer movimiento se mezcla el canto ortodoxo ruso con el Dies Irae, dejando entrever la despedida de Rachmaninoff del plano musical y terrenal. Esta sospecha se confirma al final de su manuscrito en el que se leen las palabras “Te doy gracias, Señor”. Sin embargo, este movimiento que se alterna continuamente entre cambios serenos y agitados en el tempo, no refleja la angustia de acercarse al final, sino el triunfo de la vida sobre la muerte.
En las “danzas sinfónicas” el papel de los metales es prominente, dado que su sonoridad se ha relacionado tradicionalmente con la ceremonia y la celebración. El Concierto para Cuatro Cornos conserva esta concepción presentando el primer movimiento en el estilo de fanfarria. Además de esto, Schumann exploró la forma del ritornello para organizar su innovadora propuesta de un concierto múltiple. Así mismo, siguiendo con las características de esta época, se dispusieron las líneas de cada solista; los cornos interactúan entre duetos y corales con sobresalientes instantes de virtuosismo. La distribución de las melodías en la pieza tanto de los solistas como de la orquesta, pone en evidencia otro elemento en común con las danzas de Bernstein y Rachmaninoff. La estructura usual de una obra para orquesta sinfónica se altera con el sonido íntimo y vulnerable de la música de cámara. Las múltiples conversaciones entre solos definen los episodios de introspección y transición dentro de la festiva orquestación de las danzas. Uno de estos episodios es evidente en la dulce introducción de un cuarteto de cuerdas liderado por la viola en “Somewhere” de las Danzas Sinfónicas de West Side Story. En el primer movimiento de las Danzas Sinfónicas de Rachmaninoff, sucede un lapso similar en la familia de las maderas. La delicadeza en el contrapunto de las voces convierte esta sección en un momento sublime.
Entre las iniciativas de la Filarmónica de Nashville está la búsqueda de nuevos públicos en recintos culturales, académicos y religiosos. Esta misión ha logrado que durante los últimos 20 años se hayan organizado conciertos gratuitos en 21 distritos metropolitanos de Nashville. En esta ocasión, los escenarios elegidos pertenecen a la comunidad latina de la ciudad. Por esta razón, se incluyeron en el repertorio las Danzas Sinfónicas de West Side Story; en la Casa de Dios, se distribuyeron programas en español además de conectar las palabras de los directores con la audiencia a través de un traductor.
Coming to TPAC
Funny Girl At TPAC!
Featuring one of the most iconic musical scores of all time, including classic songs “Don’t Rain On My Parade,” “I’m the Greatest Star,” and “People,” this
bittersweet comedy is the story of the indomitable Fanny Brice, a girl from the Lower East Side who dreamed of a life on the stage. Set in New York City in the 1910’s, everyone told her she’d never be a star because she didn’t have the required looks, but then something funny happened—she became one of the most beloved performers in history.
This semi-biographical Broadway musical is familiar even to non-Broadway patrons through the 1968 film adaptation, which won Barbara Streisand an Oscar and Golden Globe. The updated book is from Harvey Fierstein based on the original classic by Isobel Lennart, tap choreography by Ayodele Casel, choreography by Ellenore Scott, and direction from Michael Mayer, this is a love letter to the theatre.
Performances are January 2-7 at TPAC’s Andrew Jackson Hall. For tickets, see Funny Girl | Broadway Shows in Nashville at TPAC.
For more information on the Funny Girl North American Tour: Funny Girl on Broadway.
At Play Dance Bar
Embracing a Queer Christmas: a review of Christmas Carol Circuit Party
A compelling parallel can be drawn between the era when Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol and Woven Theatre Company’s Christmas Carol Circuit Party. Already an internationally acclaimed literary celebrity and social critic, Dickens became involved in Victorian Britain’s efforts to re-evaluate past Christmas traditions so that they would better reflect the social struggles of the time as well as resonate with their contemporaries. Christmas Carol Circuit Party actualizes Dickens’ story to further challenge the traditions by suggesting a much-needed contemporary and inclusive contextualization, through the lens of the LGBTQ+ community. This production follows Woven Theater’s appreciated performances Initiative (2020) and The Naughty Tree (2022), and it stays true to its mission to give room to bold voices of underserved artists and produce daring new art.
And what better place to present the queering adaptation of A Christmas Carol then at Play Dance Bar, a venue already offering a space for drag sensationalism, feelgood freedom to express sexiness and sexuality as well as confront the identity binaries and heteronormativity.Especially considering the disturbing efforts to promote transphobia against transgender individuals and drag artists that took place during the year we’re leaving behind, it seems more important than ever to take space and expand, modify classical stories and blatantly insert in them the existence and thriving of a long-discriminated community.
The adaptation is vastly festive and celebratory – the audience is invited to the performance an hour early because what would normally be a theater foyer, in this case, is a club dancefloor. It’s the kind of setting you want to be in with friends, unless you’re the frivolous type to approach strangers and introduce yourself through the beats and rhythms of music driving your body to move. A few minutes before the doors open, Sunni and Shabaz Ujima, two very self-confident looking and spectacularly dressed actors/dancers take over the dance booths, setting the tone for what’s to come. It is impossible not to notice their agency because of how naturally they obtain themselves and move as if they were in their own bedroom, with no one around to gaze.
In the showroom, the mise en scène sets a cabaret atmosphere, with the long bar stretching in the back of the stage, booths, and round tables on the sides of the catwalk and plenty of room for those who have bought regular (standing) tickets to become immersed with the actors who utilize the majority of the space to perform. The laser lights take the place of Christmas trees, while leather, leopard skin, shiny fabric and latex designed by Iris Daniel and Dee Benn presage the kinky tone of the performance.
A queered motherly Dickens is put in the role of the narrator. A stylistic prodigy, charmingly announcing the scenes and connecting the passages between, this character brings laughter with their satirical and ‘drama queenie’ attitude. The bitter miser Ebenezer Scrooge on the other hand is actually the owner of the club, overworking his underpaid employees. He is stingy and ruthless. The portrayal of Scrooge’s labor abuse towards his poverty-stricken queer workers trying to make it through the day can be read as a reference to how our societies push those in the margins even deeper down the pit. “Poverty will teach you lessons you do not deserve”- says Dickens, rolling their flowery lace umbrella. Scrooge grudgingly gives his employee Bob Cratchit time off during Christmas Eve after he begs to be with his emotionally ill child Tiny Tim. Cratchit (same as all Scrooge’s employees) despises Scrooge, but he doesn’t have a choice but to obey just to make ends meet and be able to afford Tiny Tim’s medicine.
As in Dickens’ novel, Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his former business partner Jacob Marley, entwined in heavy chains dangling from his chest as punishment for his lifetime sins. Marley’s chains and costume add to the embracing of BDSM practices among the gay community, making the performance even more distinct. A pleasant twist is inserted in the plot by binding Scrooge and Marley as ex-lovers. As Marley warns Scrooge to change his attitude if he doesn’t want to end up burning in the fires of hell like himself, beautiful scenes of longing for a lost love unveil in front of our eyes.
The spirits of Christmas Past, Present and Yet to Come are none other than all-star local drag queens Nichole Ellington Dupree, Sapphire Mylan, and Venus Ann Serena, firing up the show atmosphere. The voguing scenes not only deconstruct the story but they also open space for the audience to take in and digest the multitude of emotions that the performance evokes. An interesting but seemingly common audience interaction occurs when many mainly male bodied audience members approach the dancefloor, offering mostly one-dollar bills to reward the drag queens. My expectation was that the divas would tear the money up, because rewarding their spectacle with money, especially with one-dollar bills, could also be considered as an offensive undervaluing of their skills and prestige. However, the receiving of money (in one case by even shoving it in the mouth) is also a reference to the struggles of drag queens to survive by practicing their art.
In terms of the storyline, although playwright River Timms stays quite loyal to Dickens’ novel, dramaturgically speaking, there are moments in the performance that stay rather loose. The insertion of the shibari roping piece for example is unrelated to the show as a whole, therefore it is hard to justify its aesthetically fitting and pleasing presence without any connection to the plotline, other than to consider it as a breather. Similarly, the three drag queen ghosts’ performances can be considered the highlight of the piece however their role as the ghost of the Past, The Present and Yet to Come remains vague, but hey, who doesn’t know the classical plot of A Christmas Carol anyway?
A refreshing addition to the performance that brought a heart-rending affect was the presence of poet Joshua Moore reciting their nostalgic verses live on stage.It took about 18 months for playwright River Timms and director William Kyle Odum to tighten up the sleek and shiny performance casting Dee Benn, Miles Gatrell, Blake Holliday, Jane, Jack Read, and Shabaz Ujima. The production is live scored by Aazera, with Sam Lowry on production design, Elizabeth Read on experience design, mask design by Jack Read, lighting design by Taylor Thomas, and choreography by Shabaz Ujima. The production is produced by Daniel Jones, Sam Lowry, William Kyle Odum, and River Timms. Although Christmas Carol Circuit Party specifically depicts Christmas, a holiday celebrated by a large population (not everyone!) at a very specific time of the year, due to the need for further queering of theater stages, it can and should expand to a repertoire beyond this time of the year.
At the Schermerhorn
Hallelujah!: NSO’s Production of Handel’s Messiah
I was fortunate to experience George Frideric Handel’s Messiah performed by the Nashville Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. I saw the last performance on Sunday, December 17, 2023, at 2:00 p.m. Being relatively new to Nashville, this was my first trip inside the Laura Turner Concert Hall at the Schermerhorn Symphony Center downtown. I enjoyed seeing Turner Hall’s European-inspired, neo-classical architectural style, especially since the beautiful hall was festooned with traditional holiday décor. Nashville Symphony Chorus director Dr. Tucker Biddlecombe led the combined orchestra and chorus beautifully through Messiah, and this production featured vocal soloists Raven McMillon—soprano; Katherine Beck—mezzo-soprano; Tyler Nelson—tenor, and Rod Gilfry—baritone.
Messiah is one of Handel’s most popular and beloved works. Composed in 1741, Handel’s music—even nearly 300 years later—still has its place in the public’s consciousness in many parts worldwide, especially during the Christian holiday seasons, Christmas and Easter. The Messiah consists of roughly fifty musical numbers (depending on how the work is produced—sometimes smaller numbers are, or are not, combined) divided into three main parts that depict the life of Jesus Christ. The wordbook—or the libretto—for London’s 1743 premier of Messiah reads:
And without controversy, great is the mystery of Godliness: God was manifested in the Flesh, justify’d by the Spirit, seen of Angels, preached among the Gentiles, believed on in the World, received up in Glory. In whom are hid all the Treasures of Wisdom and Knowledge.[1]
Just as this forward above in part describes the Messiah, Part I of the work marks the coming and birth of Christ;
Part II reflects upon Christ’s passion, persecution and death, resurrection, and the spreading of the Christian Gospel; and last, Part III asserts Christ’s second coming, the end of the world, and God’s promise of eternal life. Also, Messiah is one of Handel’s remarkable oratorios; an oratorio, a genre of music containing the primary musical components of opera, is without some of the more costly performative aspects, like staging, sets, or costumes. One might consider Handel’s oratorios like that of concertized operas. Unlike other Handel oratorios—such as Esther, Saul, and Belshazzar—the Messiah’s narrative is less story-like, but instead, it operates like a collection of vignettes that together contemplate Christ rather than construct a literal and definitive account.
Oratorios, including Messiah, use the similar musical structure of Eighteenth-century Italian opera—for which Handel wrote over 40 Italian operas—such as choruses (many people singing), arias (solo songs), and recitatives (linking passages between arias and choruses). An excellent example of how these three components work together is in Part II—Christ’s Passion, during a sequence depicting Christ’s persecution as he was being hung on a cross. A large chorus sings, “He trusted in God,” which depicts a population doubting Christ as the son of God, saying, “He trusted in God that He would deliver him if He delight in Him.” The highly imitative texture of this chorus gives a sonic impression of people forming a growing mob mocking Christ with increasing intensity. A recitative immediately follows the chorus—“Thy rebuke hath broken His heart.” A solo tenor voice, representing an individual’s point of view from within the mob at that moment, reflects on his own sadness and dismay regarding his betrayal of Christ. The tenor sings: “Thy rebuke hath broken His heart; He is full of heaviness. He looked for some to have pity on him, but there was no man, neither found He any to comfort Him.” This recitative leads right into a short and solemn aria—still sung by the tenor—“Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto His sorrow.”
One of the reasons I chose to describe the sequence discussed above is because of Nelson’s brilliant performance as tenor soloist for this particular recitative and aria. Nelson, obviously a true professional, delivered such a compelling performance throughout the Messiah, but the emotion from the audience that his singing evoked in “Rebuke” and “Behold” was a stand-out moment for me. Blown away! describes my reaction to the firm, rich, and beautifully colorful timbre of mezzo-soprano Katherine Beck’s voice—the Boston Globe hailed Beck’s voice as “balmy.” Whether it was emoting Messiah’s long, expressive phrases or executing its fast and intricate melisma—or rapidly singing chains of notes while sustaining a single vowel—Beck maintained technical control over her voice, never letting the world-class quality of her tone diminish. Soprano soloist Raven McMillon’s performance was celestial. I perked up at her “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion” performance, McMillion executing the coloratura soprano aria with the most remarkable ease, ultimately owning a nearly ten-second melismatic passage. Additionally, baritone soloist Rod Gilfry grabbed the audience’s attention with his loud, thunderous voice. Authoritative and commanding, Gilfry, even in his lower register, still sang such technical passages with a high level of clarity.
I would be remiss if I failed to mention the “Hallelujah” Chorus at the conclusion of Part II. Biddlecombe offered us a refreshing interpretation of the chorus’ entrance. The initial entrance of the lyric “Hallelujah” is often heard with a firm attack, as if to convey the intense joy and excitement associated with Christ’s resurrection. This aspect of the “Hallelujah” Chorus has become a cinematic trope, especially in comedies, marking moments of gratuitous celebration—think Clark Griswold’s house-lighting scene in National Lampoons Christmas Vacation (1989). Instead, Biddlecombe chose to round the edges of the articulation, allowing the chorus’ entrance to drift in, creating a gorgeous swell. All voices within the homophonic texture were clearly discernable, and the impeccable intonation enabled the composite sound to effectively ring throughout the hall. As tradition requires, the audience stood during the chorus. Nobody knows for sure why audiences display such magistral behavior, like standing during the “Hallelujah” Chorus; no one is sure about how the tradition started.
A popular theory describes how King George II stood during the “Hallelujah” Chorus at the Messiah’s 1743 London premiere. However, despite a widespread acceptance of that account, it has never been 100% confirmed. During the NSO’s performance, spectators began moving their bodies in ways they felt were appropriate in the moment—some swayed, others waved their arms as if to conduct. Also, I could hear several audience members around me singing passages under their breath. Many people seem to feel strongly connected to the “Hallelujah” chorus, and witnessing it in Turner Hall was remarkable.
NSO’s production of Handel’s Messiah was top notch, and I look forward to attending more NSO concerts in the future. Nashville is fortunate to have such a high quality and active symphony orchestra of its own. Find out more about the NSO and their concert and event schedule on the website at https://www.nashvillesymphony.org.
[1] “Wordbook for the first London performance of ‘Messiah’, Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, March 1743,” Oxford Music Online, Accessed: December 19, 2023.
The MCR Interview
Denice Hicks on Her Career and The Nashville Shakespeare Festival
As actress and administrator, Denice Hicks has been one of the most pivotal players in Nashville theater for several decades. This year she announced her imminent departure from the Nashville Shakespeare Festival to embark on her own creative projects. MCR Journalist Grace Tipton took the opportunity to interview Hicks on her career (so far) and work with the Nashville Shakespeare Festive.
at the Blair School of Music
Nashville Scholars and Musicians Celebrate Florence Price
I attended the event Florence Price: A Celebration for Orchestra, November 14, 2023 in Martha Rivers Ingram Hall at the Blair School of Music in Vanderbilt University. The Vanderbilt University Orchestra was under the direction of conductor Dr. Ernesto Estigarribia with featured piano soloist Dr. Susan Yang—both Estigarribia and Yang serve on Vanderbilt’s music faculty. This concert, featuring composer Florence Price’s orchestral works, was part of a month-long—October 3, 2023, through November 14, 2023—tribute concert series dedicated to Price’s monumental career titled Florence Price: A Celebration. (More details of the concert series can be found here). Dr. Douglas Shadle, Musicologist and Associate Professor of Musicology at Vanderbilt, produced this multi-event music festival honoring Price with the help of funding from the National Endowment for the Arts.
Florence Price (1887–1953) was the first African-American woman to attain a prevalent respect and recognition as a symphonic composer, gaining mounting distinction in the 1930s. Her early musical training came from piano lessons with her mother. During her formative training, Price studied music composition at Boston’s New England Conservatory under Wallace Goodrich and Fredrich Shepherd Converse and privately with George Whitefield Chadwick. Fast forward, Price eventually became the first African-American Woman to have any orchestral work performed by a major American orchestra. After her time in Boston, Price spent most of her professional time teaching in the American South—between Little Rock, Arkansas, and Atlanta, Georgia—before getting married. She moved to Chicago with her husband in 1927, presumably to remove themselves from the growing hostility in the Southern US regions toward people of color. However, Price’s relocation was partly an impetus to a period of compositional creativity, and she collaborated with those like Carl Busch, Wesley La Violette, and Arthur Olaf Anderson at the Chicago Musical College. Price’s artistic and professional growth quickly earned her awards and national acclaim, winning first prize in the Wanamaker competition for her Symphony in E Minor in 1932. The next year this symphony was premiered by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Frederick Stock.
Price’s career extends beyond that one incredible milestone, but the strong resonance it created was felt by audiences at Vanderbilt’s November 14th performance. The evening’s program represents the kind of music that Price preferred to write. During his detailed concert notes, which he presented between movements during the concert, Shadle quoted a letter Price wrote to conductor Robert Whitney on April 25, 1953 in which she expressed her love for symphonic composition:
Dear Mr. Whitney, During the last several years, I have been rather busy at writing “commercially”—that is—the publishers ask me for such music as have sales-appeal in the teaching field. I have recently decided to give more time to the writing of the kind of music which lies closest to my heart and already have been fortunate enough to win a number of composition contests and hear manuscripts performed, among which was the TV performances a few weeks ago of a group of pieces of mind performed by the Chicago Symphony Chamber Orchestra on their program of American Music.[1]
The works featured in this concert only came to light years after Price’s passing in 1953. Shadle described how several of Price’s lost and unpublished manuscripts were discovered in 2009 inside an abandoned and dilapidated house on the outskirts of St. Anne, Illinois. Also discovered in this house were several of Price’s books and personal papers which were all eventually sent to the Florence Beatrice Smith Price Collection archive at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. By 2015, Price’s orchestral music was performed in many parts of the United States and worldwide.
One might ask, Why would this almost-destroyed collection of work be subject to such neglect? In the New Yorker, Shadle pointed out how the classical music canon was (and is) “rooted in ‘conscious selection performed by individuals in positions of power.’” (The topic of Price’s position in the classical canon, and programming her pieces in contemporary performance has also been discussed in the pages of MCR here). A large portion of Price’s legacy could have perished in that St. Anne house. Other tangible evidence of such neglect is found in a series of letters from 1943, also given in that article from the New Yorker, that Price wrote to Serge Koussevitzky the Music Director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra:
“My dear Dr. Koussevitzky, To begin with I have two handicaps—those of sex and race. I am a woman; and I have some Negro blood in my veins.”
Price was clearly aware of how the intersection of her sex and race was an obstacle within powerful Euro-centric music circles, however, Shadle further shed light on how Price was not naïve in her communication. During his lecture he argued:
It’s easy to read the 1943 Koussevitzky letter as a generic plea for attention, but we have to read it with two other pieces of context in mind. First, when she says that she has had trouble getting the attention of East Coast conductors, she is obliquely referring to him; she had sent him a letter two years earlier [1941] essentially asking him [Koussevitzky] the same questions about reviewing her scores. He never replied. Second, now that the United States was in the middle of World War II, Koussevitzky had publicly called on classical music ensembles to support American composers. The 1943 letters represent Price’s answer to that call, rather than a random inquiry. With those two pieces of context, I [Shadle] think we can see Price engaging in some clever gamesmanship with Koussevitzky.[2]
I first heard Price’s orchestral works at Vanderbilt’s November 14th concert. Rich, beautiful, and anachronistic—dare I say, Wagnerian. The first piece performed was a tone poem titled The Oak. Low-voiced strings begin with the piece’s returning motivic figure of a descending minor second (A–G#) followed by an augmented second (G#–F). This combination of notes creates a downward, ominous-sounding musical gesture. As this descending motif continues, the upper voices begin to gradually move upward, all fused together by dissonant and chromatic harmonies. Typical of orchestral music in Romantic and post-Romantic styles, The Oak sounds cinematic, leading audiences through a sonically driven series of emotions and mental images. Halfway through, a few tinges of jazz harmony rise through the texture during transitional moments. The ending Allegro section develops the descending, three-note motive into multiple repetitions of ascending sequences before a dramatic finish.
Second on the program was Price’s Piano Concerto in One Movement, featuring piano soloist Susan Yang. Though the concerto’s three movements are attaca, or without pause, each section has its own distinct characteristics. The first section generally uses a late-Romantic style, but the primary thematic material draws from the sound of African-American spirituals. Yang exquisitely introduced the thematic material in the piece’s opening section, and fragments of the pentatonic-melodic theme were thoroughly developed throughout the first movement.
The slower second movement elicits a deeper reverent and spiritual essence that Yang conveyed beautifully, taking her time through the more introspective moments at important transitions. A highlight for me was at the end of the introduction, where a surprise plagal function by the piano—like the “A-Men” chords at the end of hymns—at measure 230 after a sustained dominant—instead of the expected V–I function—which fortified an even more secure sonic evocation of the piece’s spiritual resonances. Another highlight of the second movement was how Price created an interplay between the piano and solo instruments and smaller instrumental groups, showcasing the orchestra’s diverse timbral pallet.
In the concerto’s third and last section, Price took inspiration from the juba dance, a Nineteenth-century African American dance performed by enslaved African people. Juba dance involves what is called “patting juba,” or the slapping of one’s hands, legs, and body, generating music. Juba dance is also known as “Hambone.” The many syncopated—short-long-short—rhythms create a cake-walk or ragtime feel. The lively and charming melody, led by Yang on the piano, is supported by various consorted instrumental groups before culminating in the piece’s overwhelmingly exciting last forty-six seconds.
The final piece on the concert, Ethiopia’s Shadow in America, is another tone poem that belongs to Price’s earlier collection of orchestral works. The large form of Ethiopia’s Shadow is very much like The Oak—an opening section with a heavily developed theme is followed by a slower and reverent movement before a more brilliant conclusion—but Ethiopia was composed with more transparently programmatic sense. Shadle described how Price included in its manuscript an intended narrative portrayal of each movement: “I—The Arrival of the Negro in America when first brought here as a slave. II—Hist Resignation and Faith. III—His Adaptation, A fusion of his native and acquired impulses.”[3]
In all, the concert and festival was well done! And thank you, Dr. Estigarribia, the Vanderbilt University Orchestra, and Dr. Yang, for such an incredible performance of this vital music. Special appreciation is given to Dr. Shadle for his time, interest, and conviction in leading this presentation of Price’s music to us here in Nashville—we are all fortunate to have had this experience. Look for a biography of Price from Shadle and musicologist and pianist Samantha Ege, soon to be published in the Master Musician Series by Oxford University Press.
[1] In addition to Shadle’s talk during the November 14th concert, the account of lost manuscripts is found in: Alex Ross, “The Rediscovery of Florence Price: How an African-American Composer’s Works Were Save from Destruction,” The New Yorker (January 29, 2018), Accessed: December 4, 2023. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/02/05/the-rediscovery-of-florence-price.
[2] Shadle’s words from follow-up correspondence we had after the evening’s performance. The discussion was included in Shadle narration during the November 14th concert.
[3] From Shadle’s talk at the November 14th concert and reiterated in: Shadle, Douglas, “Ethiopia’s Shadow in America,” Boston Symphony Orchestra, Accessed: December 2, 2023. https://www.bso.org/works/ethiopias-shadow-in-america.
From OzArts
The truth is hidden under the posh dinner table: A review on Geoff Sobelle’s “FOOD”
Geoff Sobelle’s performance “FOOD,” brought to Nashville by OZ Arts, took me through a roller coaster of feelings and kept my head spinning long after the amusement was gone. Within 90 minutes, without an intermission, I rolled my eyes, I laughed out loud, I felt joy, pity, and sadness. I physically participated in co-making the performance and I cried…
Actor, co-director, and magician Geoff Sobelle opens “FOOD,” a performance deftly involving the audience into a participatory experience, by tricking us towards a meditation that dives into tracing the heritage of the relationship between the human and the secret ingredient which enables it to remain alive: food. We are led through the chronicle of consumption in reverse: from reminiscing about what we’ve eaten before coming to the show, all the way back to the genesis of our relationship with food: collecting, hunting, harvesting, producing, processing and mass producing.
The performance embraces and questions the power of theater to examine life through make believe. What is true on stage and what is false and how does this reflect our relationship with the reality outside of the performance space? Sobelle deceives the audience to believe the candle he lights to begin the performance ritual is fake, which one would certainly expect as a safety measure in an indoor theater setting, but is it fake really, if he blows it and the wick releases smoke?
This sets the atmosphere for the polarity of reality and fabrication, the second being one of the strongest traits of theater; its capacity to teleport the audience into a world that is not directly theirs, which through the personal experiential palette, becomes relatable. We become co-conspirators of the world we live in and are invited to share and hold responsibility for where we stand today, both environmentally and in terms of social justice. To quote playwright and screenwriter David Mamet in Theatre: “Drama … is about discovering the truth that had previously been obscured by lies, and about our persistence in accepting lies.”
We are introduced to a polished pretense dinner party around a 500-square-foot table, neatly covered by a white tablecloth and a red decorative ribbon holding the above-mentioned candle. The table is barely set with only the necessary tableware. Above the table dangles a glamorous chandelier, although when looked more closely, it is easy to notice that it’s made of cut plastic bottles and utensils, shining a reference to the debris of our consumption.
The audience is split in two: those with wrist bands that sit around the table and those behind, who witness the performance from a further distance. Thus, a division is set between those that sit at the table and those that are on the elevated seats behind them. Sobelle invites the ones on the back to help him serve wine to the ones sitting on the table. The desires of the table guests are met bluntly: when someone orders eggs, as per the text directions on the hand-written menu provided by Sobelle, they get eggs, raw, luckily unshelled. The audience behind the table observes these privileges of drinking wine and being served food, although what is served, confirmed by the comments of the relishing table ‘guests’, doesn’t necessarily sound very appetizing. The wrist-banders know how to test the quality of their wine, order their steak medium rare, pay a bill and leave a tip. The audience obeys to the choreographed ceremony and accepts this division without questioning their strata: those who pay more get first class seats. They, however, are also more exposed to the splashes of wine, the rising dust, the invitation to recite lists of food production history, share memoirs that arise from tasting the wine and certain foods, prepared vigorously and with a stinging humor.
Then there is a twist. Sobelle unapologetically collects everyone’s glasses and empties them, even the drinks the audience bought at the bar before the performance began. There is a rush to perform this act of cleaning up the table, and although he is polite, the audience becomes exposed to a forceful act that puts an end to their privileges.
After the hasty, almost caricaturized serving on roller shoes, when off duty, the polished waiter who has finished his exhaustive and sweaty shift, transforms into a gluttonous monster. His, respectively, our chafed nature is exposed. Greedy consumption of whatever comes in front of our eyes. What at first seems like a humorous interpretation of magical tricks making food and non-food disappear referentially into Sobelle’s mouth, turns into disgust. Unlike Mr. Creosote in Monty Python’s “The Meaning of Life” (1983) who underestimates his stomach and explodes, Sobelle’s character has a stomach to gobble the leftovers of his lavish guests.
The climactic turning point unfolds when Sobelle pulls the tablecloth together with the tableware, the smushed leftover food and we find ourselves in a completely different setting. The lustrous table has apparently been laid on top of barren soil. The awed audience members sitting around the table with the rising dust above them, are invited to touch the soil and trace the ancestral voyage through civilization. Herds of bison appear from under the soil, wheat grows, and a plastic plate spontaneously leans on one of the wheat stems. Sobelle’s dexterity in performing the origin of human intervention on nature in a way also hides the indiscreetness with which humanity has treated its surrounding environment. Behind and under the stage, a whole team of sound, light and trick technicians are involved in enabling the unfolding of magic. He plunges his arm through the soil to bring out the black gold that to this day is the cause of human savagery towards the land and those residing on it. As toy pumpjacks erupt, instigating the building of transportation, factories, housing, plantations, all done with the help of audience members serving little toys on food trays, Sobelle’s hands become as dirty as those of Lady Macbeth.
There’s a crucial scenography detail I’d like to end this reading with.
Behind the spot from where Sobelle operates as center stage, hangs a painting by the U.S. painter William Holbrook Beard named ‘Dancing Bears’(1865). William Holbrook Beard is best known for his satirical paintings of animals performing human-like activities. Sobelle’s performance slithers through satire and the absurd which makes the choice of the restaurant decor to be quite a purposeful hidden source of meaning and critique. Hanging this painting is not only an elegy to the indigenous peoples who considered animals as beings holding spiritual powers and knowledges, but it also is a dirge to those peoples whose lands were confiscated to eventually build skyscrapers on. And for what? So that in the end, we can be buried in the very same land we fought to take over.
The performance is an invitation for vigilance and acceptance of responsibility. Outside of the theater setting, will we be able to acknowledge and hold on to the connection with the rough truth that the luxurious table we eat on stands on top of a soil of rare species on the verge of extinction, evicted peoples, usurped lands, and a shattered planet, divided by the prejudice of difference? Is this the world that we want to hand to our successors?
