Some years ago, I attended two productions of the esteemed Houston Grand Opera. One was the lesser-known Verdi opera, Macbeth; the other Handel’s Ariodante. Both suffered the same fate: directors who didn’t believe in the material or trust the audience, so they felt compelled to camp it up, dress it up.
In the Verdi, Scots soldiers stomped around in mini leather kilts. Incongruous. In the Handel, half-dressed sopranos crawled about on stage in mid-aria. Distracting.
In both cases, great beauty was obscured by incongruous, distracting excess. I got the same impression at the War Memorial Auditorium. On Friday October 28, 2022, TPAC and OZ Arts co-sponsored the immensely talented Australian chanteuse Melissa Madden Gray, stage name “Meow Meow.”
Name notwithstanding, there was nothing kittenish about this act. Set as what her publicity calls “post-postmodern” cabaret, the performance had all the elements of post-WWI Berlin. The hall was set up as a nightclub with small tables scattered throughout and drinks available at the bar. Some audience members had even dressed the part as denizens of late-night speakeasies.
One high point was her dress. It is rare these days to find people, even performers, who have the gift of recognizing the art of dress, dress that suits the body type of the artist. The silvery strapless slinky dress shorter at the front but flowing like a train in the back, suited her traditional shapeliness, glittering and glowing in the dim light, perfect for the romantic ballads that shifted effortlessly from English to French to German to Spanish.
In addition to her easy command of language, her vocal facility was absolutely spellbinding. With an enviably wide range and total control of tone color, dynamics, and pitch even in the midst of odd attempts at slapstick comedy involving audience members, her voice could have stolen the show. But it seemed as if she didn’t trust the material of her talent or the emotional range of the audience. Each moment of poignancy was too-quickly steered headlong into quips or quirks that result in what she calls “kamikaze cabaret.” But I remember the fate of kamikaze pilots.
For example, she chose audience members to participate on stage. Most of the remaining audience seemed to find the participants’ discomfort hilarious when they were instructed to fondle her legs and hips as she pushed their heads toward her breasts or crotch. I found it uncomfortable. Likewise, I found her snark about Nashville—framed as a disappointment when, but for Covid, she would have been in New York—to be distasteful. Her ongoing joke that the technicians were not competent was not well-handled because, though an expert singer, her comedy chops are weak. In a nod to said Covid, she brought a hand sanitizer stand onstage and a duffel bag full of masks, gloves, and garbage bags with head and neck holes cut out for the participants. It was almost cute, almost clever.
Only two moments of this comedic aspect stood out as amusing for me, although I was clearly in the minority. At one point, she had six audience members on the stage, supposedly as a poor substitution for the corps of professional dancing men she would have had in New York. She was singing while directing their movements, ending the scene with them lifting her into the air as she posed, diva-like on the chaise lounge of their arms and backs. All of this could probably work with Carol Burnett or Kate McKinnon, but her tone seemed a bit too intense for humor.
In another moment, she barked “Aufstehen!” in true Reichsmarschall style, demanding that the stage techs make the unmoveable stage rotate. So they stepped up, as ordered, projecting a running light pattern on the wall as a tech scampered up toward the stage with a lazy susan. The artiste stepped on the device and sang as the tech rotated her. The virtuosity of her physical agility and musical ability was impressive.
Mark Hartman, her pianist and music director, was her equal in musicality and technique, occasionally joining in the humor bits and, given the chance, I would enjoy an evening just of the two of them (with perhaps a bass and drumset) singing the older cabaret standards like Jacques Brel’s “Ne me quitte pas [Don’t leave me],” her sweet rendition of Patty Griffin’s “Be careful,” and her lovely original works that have shades of Steven Sondheim and Paul Simon influence.
Still, I’m grateful that acts like these are available in Nashville. Most of the audience roared with laughter at this musical lioness, but not every one can work for everyone. I’ll look forward to the thrilling DakhaBrakha at OZ in February. This unique ensemble that updates Ukrainian folk music with influences as widespread as jazz and funk is a true catch for the Music City.
Two roosters are frozen in an almost comically surreal cockfight. But their feathers, soaked in brilliant red blood, and the darker blood splotches against a black background belie any humor. Behind the combatants and chain link fencing, the green background frames an expressionless white hen looking on, as if waiting for the deadly foolishness to end.
“Folly” by noted painter and architect, Demas Nwoko, appeared in 1960, the same year that the Republic of Nigeria officially hoisted its new green and white flag above the then-capital of Lagos. The use of the flag’s colors has become a recurring signature of Nwoko’s style. This oil on board painting is part of a wonderfully varied exhibit of art by Africans across the spectrum of the continent during the mid-twentieth century Modernist period.
Demas Nwoko, Folly (Private Collection, 1960)
African Modernism in America, 1947–1967*, housed at the Carl Van Vechten Gallery at Fisk University, culminates a five-year project. Curators Perrin Lathrop, a Princeton doctoral candidate and the Warhol Foundation Curatorial Fellow at Fisk University Galleries; Dr. Nikoo Paydar, former Associate Curator for Fisk Galleries; and Jamaal Sheats, Director and Curator of Galleries at Fisk envisioned an acknowledgment of African Modernism with a twist, women would receive equal treatment.
Added to that warp thread of openness, the exhibit ties weft threads of different media, techniques, and styles: murals, book covers, painting, collage, lithograph, oil, watercolor, photographs, expressionism, realism, impressionism, primitivism. All these threads would be woven together in a thematic kente cloth of fundamental Africanness on a loom of Americanness: “The show reveals a transcontinental network of artists, curators, and scholars that challenged assumptions about African art in the United States.” Many of the featured artists either traveled to the US to study, had their works displayed and promoted here, or invited African American artists to Africa.
Elimo Njau, The Load and the Hoe (Tanzania, 1956)
One of the exhibit’s strengths is the inclusion of a variety of media and artistic functions, including a photo of Uche Okeke’s mural decorating the walls of Mbari Artists and Writers Club in Ibadan, Nigeria, where highly respected writers like Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka and International Booker Prize winner Chinua Achebe launched their careers. In a glass-encased display of books, guests can observe Guyanese illustrator Denis Williams’ cover art for the 1963 edition of Soyinka’s Three Plays. The Mbari club also nurtured local talent by inviting Americans like Langston Hughes to share in artistic exchange with its members, a fundamental theme for this exhibit.
Although some pieces in this exhibit are borrowed, most come from Fisk’s own notable collection enhanced by gifts from the Harmon Foundation. Tanzanian Elimo Njau’s lithograph, “The Load and the Hoe,” depicts Kikuyu women working in the fields in the midst of the chaos of the Mau Mau wars. The wide variety of strokes—charcoal brushing, jabs, and smears—swirl around two women, deepening like an impending thunderstorm as their babies swing wildly from slings on their backs while the women work with a clear sense of urgency. Clara Etso Ugbodaga-Ngu’s oil on canvas “Beggars” from nearly a decade later, depicts a calmer atmosphere with three people singing proudly together.
One of the most startling works is René Bokoko’s untitled gouache on canvas work from 1960. As part of his Imaginative & Vivid African Human series, this Congolese artist specializes in bright colors and images full of vitality. Against the vivid blue scrim of this painting are segmented ebony figures engaged in a variety of traditional activities.
René Bokoko, untitled (Congo, 1960)
In true African American style, the entire event embraced improvisation, riffing off a basic idea. Walking into the gallery office, the first sight is Fisk galleries coordinator, Lakesha Moore, braiding the hair of featured artist, her elder, Ndidi Dike. In the gallery itself, the exhibit is set out in stages, the first three chronicling the institutions that promoted African art in the US, collaborative networks that formed in the Sixties, the specific connections between African and African American artists. In all these stages, and the last, Fisk itself has played a vital role.
The last stage, the works of art themselves, begins with a multimedia collage commissioned from Ms. Dike, short-term artist-in-residence at Fisk, the only living artist on display. Her three-panel work “Politics of Selection” honors Nigeria’s current twenty-naira bill, a bill that honors the work of ceramicist Ladi Kwali, an artist who spent some time in residence at Fisk. Granted, Kwali is on the back of the bill, with a heroic general on the front, but still…
Then in a gesture of genius in presentation, a small table placed at the base of the second panel, holds Harmon Foundation co-director Evelyn S. Brown’s book on African Modernists, sharing space with one of Kwali’s pots, a well-proportioned earthenware vase, rounded as an expectant mother, its glaze glowing with health, resting comfortably on a stand above a scattering of warm red soil. To have a bit of Mother Earth as part of this environment is a touch that lingers long after the wine, music, and social chatter fade into the background.
For such big ideas, the exhibit is relatively small, manageable for neophyte museum-goers, with works that will hold the attention of veteran art lovers. The exhibit opened on October 6, 2022, for an indefinite stay. The Carl Van Vechten Gallery is located on the Fisk University Campus at 1000 17th Avenue North @ Jackson Street. For more information, see www.fiskuniversitygalleries.org, call 615-329-8720, or email galleries@fisk.edu.
*African Modernism in America is co-curated by Perrin Lanthrop, Nikoo Paydar, and Jamaal Sheats. This exhibition is co-organized by the American Federation of Arts and Fisk University Galleries. Major support for the exhibition is provided by Monique Schoen Warshaw. Additional support is provided by grants from the Marlene and Spencer Hays Foundation, the Mellon Foundation and the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts. This project is supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts.
Nashville is no stranger to star-studded premieres or huge flocks of songwriters and artists in one place, but the first weeks of fall in Music City make for a quite different scene. The Nashville Film Festival (NFF) and the International Black Film Festival (IBFF) bring a host of filmmakers, lovers, and critics from near and far to the city for a week of premieres, panels, and a celebration of filmmaking. It’s an embarrassment of riches for a city not as well known as others in the South (Atlanta, above all) for attracting film and television crews, but lovers of movies in Nashville know that institutions like the Belcourt or the film programs at Belmont and Vanderbilt keep a vibrant film culture alive and well year-round.
There’s such an embarrassment of riches, in fact, that these two festivals happening at once can make it difficult for filmgoers to see everything they’d like from what both festivals have to offer. No doubt having so many people in the city all at once is great for those looking to connect and network at these festivals, and probably even drawing in more eyeballs for the biggest events on the schedules, but smaller films and panels are more likely to be lost in the crowd.
The consequences of this are no doubt more severe for the IBFF than the NFF, as the former is both smaller and newer than the latter, but the cross-promotion that comes from treating both festivals as a single, city-wide celebration of movies like this WPLN feature will hopefully mitigate such discrepancies in the future.
The below coverage of the Nashville Film Festival by Music City Review writers is, then, doubly partial, featuring reviews for only a handful of the shorts and features at the NFF and unfortunately nothing from this year’s IBFF. This incompleteness should be seen as a reflection of truly just how much there is to watch and enjoy while these film festivals are in full swing and by no means of the quality or importance of either. –BG
Relative
One of the biggest shocks of the #metoo movement was the sheer number of women who had been victimized. There is a similar realization in Tracy Arcabasso Smith’s powerful and chilling documentary Relative. Smith conducts interviews documenting sexual abuse of her living relatives, all women, and backgrounds these accounts with footage of the family. The narrative arc seems to begin with a certain amount of blame and accusation given first to the men, then at both victims and assailants.
Tracy Arcabasso Smith (Still from Relative)
Slowly and delicately, the two generational responses emerge and polarize in the narrative, juxtaposing the past’s resilience of willful ignorance, “Okay it happened, and you move forward” with the relentless modern exploration of crime and context, “I don’t think you can move forward until you’ve dealt with the past” –this despite the fact that neither approach seems to have healed anyone. Soon, a recognition emerges of the possibility that her assailant may himself have been abused, and the blame generalizes to the institutions of family, church, and society as a whole. The film is as uncomfortable as it is important to watch and although offers very little in terms of solution or resolution, it does serve to perpetuate a discussion that has continued, and needed to continue, for longer than many of us are willing to admit. –JM
Wannabe
Wannabe is a compelling film written and directed by Josie Andrews that follows a 90’s girl group to their make-or-break audition. Filmed at the iconic Viper Room on the Sunset Strip (RIP), the group is faced with the choice of working with the lead singer’s rapist or giving up on the deal of their dreams. Wannabe grapples with what it means to be in control: ultimately showing that while we may not have control over what harms us, we do have control over our choices and responses. The ending, while inferred, is not explicit, allowing the audience to participate in this demonstration of choice.
Charismatic and engaging, the three stars make you cheer for them and wish for their success. Margo Parker does a particularly good job as the lead character. She has great chemistry with the other characters and the audience feels how conflicted she is, especially as the other group members ultimately leave the decision in her hands. The frustration the audience feels at the dilemma is mirrored in the pain the characters feel for past and present trauma. A short film with a big impact, Wannabe leaves you with much to reflect upon. –BM
Intimacy Workshop
Eddie Prunoske’s Intimacy Workshop is a darkly comedic, and at moments quite gross, ten minute short that takes aim at self-help groups and allergic reactions to intimacy—it’s Fight Club meets NyQuil. Adam Uhl’s photography is well done and the Prunoske’s blocking/framing is inspired as is Emily Fleischer’s casting: a fantastic bouquet of awkward masculinity. Dare I say I’d like to see a sequel? Gesundheit! –JM
Hallelujah
Hallelujah (Still)
Hallelujah by Victor Gabriel is 13 minute short film about two brothers struggling with the sudden responsibility of taking care of their niece and nephew. This powerful short does not pull any punches. Hallelujah, the nephew, is contemplating the possibility of committing suicide after the sudden loss of his father. It is a touching look about moving forward through adversity and accepting responsibility in the face of the many tragedies of life. In the short there is a flashback to the day of the tragedy, and the scene is masterfully shot with a camera that is constantly rotating. This perfectly captures how dizzying painful memories can be and is just one example of the little details that makes this short so great. This short has been awarded many times over, including winning the Grand Prix for Best Short at HollyShorts, which qualifies it for Oscar consideration. This is one not to miss. –DK
The Return of Tanya Tucker: Featuring Brandi Carlile
Tanya Tucker and Brandi Carlile
Kathlyn Horan’s new documentary The Return of Tanya Tucker: Featuring Brandi Carlile follows the recording and promotion of Tucker’s 2019 Grammy Award-winning album While I’m Living. The album, produced by Brandi Carlile and Shooter Jennings, was Tucker’s first in 17 years. According to Horan, the project began quite spur-of-the-moment when Carlile’s wife, Catherine Shepherd, called her the night before recording began in L.A. to see if Horan would like to shoot some behind-the-scenes footage for the album. After the first few days of filming, Horan told Nashville Film Festival attendees during the Q&A following the film’s screening, she knew she was working with something much bigger than that.
In the film we follow Tucker and Carlile through the songwriting and recording process, some emotionally tense moments while promoting the album, and all the way to Tucker’s first Grammy wins after 14 career nominations, with a healthy amount of archival footage and biographical recap to establish the emotional stakes of her return. In another filmmaker’s hands or with a different personality at the center of everything, this might sound like the makings of a cut-and-dry artist retrospective documentary. However, Horan smartly decides to let events play out without much external commentary, let alone the types of talking head expert interviews that are generally spliced throughout documentaries of this sort. Ultimately, it’s the magnetism and self-deprecating charm of Tanya Tucker that hold our attention throughout the film alongside her fascinating working dynamic with Brandi Carlile.
As the title of the film suggests, though this is Tucker’s album and her moment in the spotlight, without the tireless work of Brandi Carlile and Shooter Jennings, the album project likely would never have existed. We get a sense of what this project means to Carlile in the film’s earliest moments during the recording of While I’m Living. At one point, while discussing Tucker’s impact and legacy Carlile asks her if there were any women singers Tucker looked up to when she was younger, in the way Tucker meant so much to Carlile. Tucker, in her usual irreverent but lovable style, shakes her head and says “Elvis. And Merle Haggard.” It’s the beginning of one of the documentary’s most interesting threads, namely the tension between who an artist is and who their audience expects or needs them to be. However, what the film is concerned with isn’t just that this difference exists, that’s plain enough, but rather with how that tension is just as easily edifying and validating as it is cruel and alienating.
Carlile asks Tucker a number of questions in this scene and throughout the film about her legacy and her musicianship, all of which clearly borne of Carlile’s love and admiration for Tanya Tucker, legendary country music star, a love no doubt shared by most of Tucker’s fans. And yet, Tanya Tucker, the human being, seems to struggle not so much with answering the questions, but seemingly with being able to play along with what Carlile wants (maybe even needs) from her. Horan’s camera shows us the doubt and insecurity in Tucker’s eyes in these moments. We never mistake this resistance as pure stubbornness or rudeness, but rather a kind of roundabout vulnerability. I don’t think Tucker is being evasive when she downplays her talent or the influence she’s had on singers of all stripes. Instead, the film reminds us of the cruel tabloid coverage she faced in the ‘80s and ‘90s, and why she might find herself on the defensive when confronting an unrecognizable image of herself constructed in someone else’s imagination, for motivations she may not ever truly know.
This tension comes to a head in the middle of the film when we join Carlile plucking away at an upright piano, informing us she’s waiting for Tanya Tucker to arrive for a rehearsal of the song they cowrote for While I’m Living, the moving lead single “Bring My Flowers Now.” Tucker’s late, we learn, way late, and attempts to figure out when or even if she’s coming to rehearse have been unhelpful. The version of Brandi Carlile we see in this moment is quite unlike what we’ve seen before. She’s evidently tense, readily admits she’s nervous, and we can see in her eyes a look of feeling almost totally out of control. We quickly learn why Tucker’s lateness has her so on edge. It’s the eve of an all-star birthday concert for Loretta Lynn (who sadly passed away between the screening of the documentary at the Nashville Film Festival and the publication of this review) at Bridgestone Arena.
The high-profile nature of the concert and the management of so many famous singers’ busy schedules for soundchecks and rehearsals have left Carlile in a rough spot. The film cuts ahead to Tucker’s van arriving at Bridgestone arena, some time later. She’s apologetic, but glamorous and charming as ever. After a quick run-through on an electric piano in the bathroom, Carlile and Tucker are ready for the performance itself. Of course, it’s flawless. Earlier in the film, Carlile asks Tucker how often she leaves the stage feeling satisfied. “Almost never,” Tucker tells her. Seeing them now, in the afterglow of performing their song in front of an arena filled with people, though Tucker doesn’t seem willing to admit it, it’s clear just how proud both of them feel.
The last third or so of the film covering the Grammy nominations and ceremony feature many of its best scenes. Perhaps the best sees Tucker sitting in front of her hotel room window as she gets ready for the Grammy ceremony, reflecting on the journey of the album. She admits that she nearly hadn’t agreed to record it at all, but that Shooter Jennings’ insistence changed her mind. We’ve already seen Brandi Carlile confronting the difference between the Tanya Tucker in her mind and the real woman in the film, but here we finally see the same happen for Tucker. “I just thought there was more love behind me than ahead of me,” she tells the camera. Her tears tell us she knows she was wrong.
Horan’s film is a moving, complicated portrait of a fascinating working relationship and a key moment not only in the life of Tanya Tucker, but in the overall historiography of country music. Full of music, humor, and surprising vulnerability, it’s the sort of documentary that will no doubt appeal to country music fans and non-fans alike.
Mate
Mate by George-Alex Nagle is a completely engrossing tough watch. This 30 minute film deals with a young man Jack trying to reconcile his relationship with the self-destructive thirty year old John, a working class man living on the western part of Sydney, Australia. Over a weekend visit Jack learns that the lifestyle of John is nothing to desire or emulate, and that adulthood is a complex endeavor. It is brutally honest in its depiction of the struggles of maturity and masculinity. Joshua Brennan, who portrays John, is particularly good at depicting the dangers and darkness of a man on the edge. Beautifully shot and just the right length, this film is definitely worth the watch. –DK
Immediate Family
Immediate Family is director Danny Tedesco’s documentary about musicians you haven’t heard of, but whose music you’ve heard. It’s a flip on the typical music film: Linda Ronstadt, Stevie Nicks, Keith Richards, Phil Collins, James Taylor, and Carole King were just a few of the artists who gave interviews about their experiences with the subjects of the documentary, these legendary session musicians: drummer Russ Kunkel, bassist Leland Sklar, guitarists Danny Kortchmar, Waddy Watchel, and later Steve Postell.
The musicians are rapidly introduced and begin to tell their stories, starting from when they first picked up their instruments, to the present day and the band they’ve formed together, Immediate Family. After the first ten minutes or so the documentary slows to a pleasant pace. The subjects cheerfully tell anecdotes about recording sessions, collaboration on songs, and life while on tour, which got a lot of laughs from the Nashville Film Festival audience. There are quirky animations, old photographs, a variety of excellent footage from recording sessions and concerts, and hit song after hit song. These men, who have spent fifty years working as successful, high-level musicians, were fascinating to watch on screen. Being so used to performing in the background, they had a unique mixture of seasoned professionalism and flattered joyfulness as they spoke about their musical journeys. As one of them said, they were used to being on stage, but unused to the spotlight.
Danny Tedesco, who also made The Wrecking Crew documentary about 1960’s session musicians, brings his filmmaking experience and palpable affection for the music industry to the screen. Immediate Family is an interesting look at the music scene, particularly of the 1970’s, and particularly to viewers who are fans of 70’s music. If you want to learn about the band’s intimate personal lives you will be disappointed; any marriages, births, deaths, divorces, or conflicts are almost unmentioned. But that isn’t the point of Immediate Family, which is a celebratory, egoless look at the musical careers of skilled musicians and the family they have made together.
The Immediate Family Film website has a list and spotify playlist of songs that were performed or produced by the subjects of the documentary: Immediate Family – Documentary | Soundtrack –GT
Still Working 9 to 5
The documentary Still Working 9 to 5 records the origins, influence, legacy and impact of the late ‘70s comedy 9 to 5 starring Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Dolly Parton, and Dabney Coleman. The original film, which is described as a “Trojan Horse Comedy,” was a project largely created by Jane Fonda and then tailored for the participation of Parton and Tomlin. As such, the documentary discusses Fonda and the original film for the role each played in the women’s movement of the late 1970’s and early 1980s. Here, the documentary does well not to over-reach on the original film’s impact—seeing the film more as part of, and record of, the period’s movement than as an inspirational source. The narrative is then carried forward with a description of the (tragic) failure of the Equal Rights Amendment to achieve status as law.
Later and perhaps more forgettable iterations of the 9 to 5 narrative are also discussed as the documentary follows the women’s movement through the 21st Century. Uncovered in the subtle impact of the film is the continuing influence on individual actors from Rita Moreno to Allison Janney or Stephanie J. Block.
As part of this extended political narrative, it is also interesting to witness progress in the careers of women involved in the original project (and I wish more time was spent celebrating this). Fonda, a long-demonized activist of the left, has recently rediscovered mainstream acceptance for her role in Grace and Frankie while Parton, a country star once objectified for her body type has become an icon for the south; an icon whose silence in political discourse is belied by her relentlessly progressive philanthropy and quiet support for women’s issues. These women are profound models with extraordinary long careers, careers the likes of which did not exist in the 1970s. In all Still Working is a very well-done document of the continuing relevance of a dated but still important cultural artifact—even if its very longevity is a tragic necessity of the ongoing fight. –JM
The lineup for this year’s Nashville Film Festival is somehow both undeniably local and excitingly global. The winner of the best Tennessee feature, Waheed AlQawasmi’s Jacir, which follows a Syrian refugee resettling in Memphis, was shot entirely in the state. A host of music documentaries, from Kathlyn Horan’s The Return of Tanya Tucker: Featuring Brandi Carlile to Joshua Britt and Neilson Hubbard’s Big Old Goofy World: The Story of Oh Boy Records and others in between, placed Nashville musicians and musicmaking as a central theme of this year’s festival.
Conclusion
At the same time, the host of films from around the country and across the globe brought plenty of huge names and famous faces to Music City, while also bringing with them a diverse array of stories and perspectives to Nashville audiences. The winners of the best narrative feature award at both the Nashville Film Festival and the International Black Film Festival, Gabriela Martins’ Mars One and Denise Dowse’s Remember Me: The Mahalia Jackson Story respectively, are but just two films from the festivals highlighting interpersonal struggles against the backdrop of oppression and state-sponsored violence. Still other films and documentaries offered reflections on the #MeToo movement and the long, long ongoing fight for gender equality.
The quality, diversity, and political relevance of these films help to center Nashville’s film scene as an increasingly important one. They also show that the tireless work of these festivals’ programming directors, Hazel Joyner-Smith at IBFF and Lauren Ponto at NFF, are integral parts of Nashville’s ever-growing cultural scene. That the festivals place so much importance on the work of local filmmakers and crews is an exciting prospect and will no doubt help more than anything to foster this growth and enrichment in the coming years. –BG
Authors–Benjamin Gates (BG), Bethany Morgan (BM), G.E. Tipton (GT), Daniel Krenz (DK), Joseph E. Morgan (JM)
The Nashville Symphony audience has finally broken the stigma about only clapping in the “appropriate” spots during a concert. And Thursday night gave the audience plenty of reasons to clap. This weekend the Nashville Symphony presents a solid program of favorites: Kaija Saariaho’s Asteroid 4179: Toutatis, Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, and Gustav Holst’s The Planets. The evening began with Maestro Guerrero mounting the podium and introducing the newest members of the orchestra. I could only really hear the first names as the audience’s eagerness to welcome the newest members drowned out the rest. This enthusiasm never let up throughout the night.
Kaija Saariaho
The opening piece was Asteroid 4179: Toutatis by Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho. It is a four-minute orchestral depiction of the asteroid whose orbit comes the closest to earth. But no need to worry, at its closest point it is still over 4.5 million miles away. Saariaho was originally asked to write this piece by Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic for their 2006 “Ad Astra” project. This project, which culminated in a CD, commissioned contemporary composers to add several space themed pieces to accompany Gustav Holsts’ The Planets. On Thursday night the Nashville Symphony played the Toutatis perfectly well, . The piece is slow, eerie, and ethereal with polyrhythms and fragments of disjointed lines throughout. For those curious the full score to the piece can be viewed on Saariaho’s website. (https://saariaho.org/works/asteroid-4179-toutatis/) Loud applause filled the hall at the piece’s quiet end, though it was nothing compared to the applause yet to come.
The chief success of the night was Augustin Hadelich in Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto. The price of admission is worth it just for this piece alone. Hadelich is a true superstar. Nashville always treats its audience with great soloists, but Hadelich stands a cut above the rest. The concerto, written in 1878, was Tchaikovsky’s only violin concerto and is a perennial favorite for good reason. It is a perfect showcase piece for a talented violinist that runs the gamut from raw firework technicality to lyrical musical bliss. The opening movement is notoriously virtuosic, but in Hadelich’s hands there was never any doubt about the musical result. It was perfection throughout. At the end of the movement the audience gave a hearty standing ovation.
Augustin Hadelich
The second and third movements (played attaca, much to the chagrin of the waiting-to-clap audience) are where the whole ensemble shined. The Nashville string section was incredibly rich throughout the Canzonetta. When the transition was made to the Finale, Hadelich took an incredibly brisk pace, but the ensemble was up to the task. Bravo to Giancarlo and the symphony for the fantastic performance and my personal highlight of the concert. After a long-standing ovation and several curtain calls, Hadelich played an encore that brought the audience’s excitement to even greater heights.
The second half of the concert consisted of Gustav Holsts’ most popular work: The Planets. This piece is one of the rare examples of “classical music” breaking out into the larger public conscious. Everyone has heard the playfulness of “Mercury,” the noble hymn theme in “Jupiter,” and the fearful might of “Mars” (or at least Hollywood imitations of it). The orchestra’s performance of the piece was comfortable. No great liberties were taken with interpretation, but by no means does that mean the performance was lackluster. The brass section dominated the ending of “Mars” in the loudest moment of the evening. “Venus,” the perfect counterpart to “Mars,” was led by fantastic playing by the celeste and dual harpists. The ensemble brought out the great bitonality of the tricky “Mercury.” The movement “Jupiter” is such a successful piece of music on its own, that its middle section has been turned into a popular British hymn “I Vow to Thee, My Country.” It was a real pleasure to see and hear the whole ensemble enjoying themselves in that movement. The fifth movement, “Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age” is my personal favorite. Holst does a masterful job of depicting a ticking clock and an elderly person struggling under the weight of old age. My only complaint with this performance was the use of tubular bells at the climax of the movement. They overly dominated the sound texture so greatly that people were turning their heads to see where the sound was coming from.
“Uranus, the Magician” playfully depicts the trickster mage. Towards the end of the movement the organ plays a massive glissando before disappearing in an instant to leave behind delicate strings holding a chord. It is a great musical moment. Guerrero left his hands up at the end of the movement to facilitate a smooth transition to the quiet beginning of the last movement, “Neptune.” But the audience’s clapping won out again. Orchestra members smiled as the applause slowly gained steam, but the movement was resumed quickly enough. The final movement ends quietly but with the greatest effect. There is an offstage woman’s chorus that sings a simple wordless melody that twists and turns the ear as their song slips into different key areas. Holst has them singing for a few minutes until they recede off into the distance getting quieter and quieter. At the Schermerhorn this was managed by slowly closing the stage doors to dampen the sound. Besides a few door creaks at the beginning of the close, the motion was done with great effect. It really escapes description but suffice it to say that it was one of the best performances that I have heard live.
If you have the chance to hear the symphony in their remaining two performances this weekend, I cannot recommend it highly enough. For more information about the remaining performances, click here (https://www.nashvillesymphony.org/tickets/concert/2022-2023-season/classical-2-holst-s-the-planets/)
On September 22 and 24 Nashville Opera opened its 2022-2023 season with a remarkable production of Giacomo Puccini’s La Bohème. Puccini’s opera is a deeply tragic work and a centerpiece of late 19th Century Italian opera– it is a singer’s opera containing some of the most important arias in the repertoire, but in Nashville the ensembles were amazing too.
Musetta (Flora Hawk, Soprano) and Marcello (Luis Orozco, Baritone) (Photo Anthony Popolo)
The ensemble fun began right in the opening act, with the four Bohemian artists, Colline (Allen Michael Jones, Bass), Schaunard (Spencer Reichman, Baritone), Marcello (Luis Orozco, Baritone) and Rodolfo (Zach Borichevsky, Tenor) singing the opening ensemble with fantastic levity and wonderful group dynamic. When they all gang up on a laughably aging landlord Benoit (Mark Whatley, Baritone, doubled as Alcindoro) for his lecherous ways, it was intimate and silly like an old sitcom (think Friends).
Orozco’s Marcello was particularly notable in that his smooth-talking seductive presence was well expressed in an equally smooth legato melodic line as he sidled up to his on-again off-again love interest, the fetching opportunist Musetta (Flora Hawk, Soprano). Hawk’s second act waltz, “Quando me’n vo’” bristled with more than enough charismatic confidence and passion of youth to win Marcello’s heart…again and make her stand out from a huge stage chock full of people. Here as always, Amy Tate Williams prepared an immaculate chorus including a remarkable children’s chorus. As the comic foil and the fun couple to watch, Hawk and Orozco perfectly balanced the tragedy of Borichevsky’s Rodolfo and Mimi (Michelle Johnson, Soprano).
At the opening of Act 1, on Saturday at least, Borichevsky’s instrument seemed a little cool, particularly against the glossy song of Reichman and Jones, or perhaps he was just waiting for his muse. By the duet with Mimi at the Act’s end, his tenor had a magical brilliance that brought goosebumps. For her part, Johnson’s Mimi was just lovely, and her gentle instrument perfect for the part: clear, crisp, clean and honeyed but with a delicate articulation like the fine fabric that her character spent her days embroidering. The famous quartet, or better described as a “double duet,” “Addio dolce svegliare alla mattina!” at the end of Act Three was equally silly and enchanting, a gorgeous highlight of the evening.
The production brought back Peter Harrison’s traditional and beautiful Paris setting from 2014. Lacking the 400-foot tall lcd screens and Nashville-cum-Marvel Superhero™ costumes, the staging was quite lovely—indeed, the second act was greeted with boisterous applause as the curtain went up, before a single note was sung. It is a marvelous setting, where subtle things count, e.g. first and last acts feature the contemptable bed where the tragedy ensues, the broad exposition pointing towards its own destiny in the recapitulation.
Second Act stage (Photo: Anthony Popolo)Mimi (Michelle Johnson, Soprano) and Rudolpho ((Zach Borichevsky, Tenor) (Photo: Nicholas Popolo)
Perhaps because of his proximity to the verismo movement, whether it be Butterfly, Tosca, or even Turandot, some of Puccini’s most famous works are at best crude catharsis and at worst grief porn, especially in this not-quite-post-pandemic era. In the score there is certainly expressed musical, motivic and emotional relish lent to the approaching tragedy, a relish that Maestro Dean Williamson brought to devastating light from the score’s giant, anti-heroic, symphonic/sonata form. Whatever the cause, when Rudolpho stumbled around the stage in that brief moment of silence, when everyone on the stage and in the hall (except him) had realized Mimi was dead, I chanced to glance around at the room full of eyes welled with emotion—a response so much more important than the ovation that soon shook Jackson Hall. Bravo.
Nashville Opera returns October 28-30 with The Medium at the Noah Liff Opera Center.
This summer the Nashville Shakespeare Festival performed Cymbeline, one of Shakespeare’s last plays. I won’t go much into the plot of the play in this review; a quick google search will get you a multitude of better summaries than I can give you. Basically, the virtuous Princess Imogen stands against her shallow and scheming family to marry the man she loves. Her husband promptly makes a bet with a playboy that she’s faithful. The husband too easily believes the lie that Imogen slept with the playboy. Murderous plots abound, Imogen disguises herself as a boy and hides in the country, long lost siblings are discovered, a war begins and ends, and everything works out in a climactic final scene. Cymbeline is a delightful, plot-filled comedy. Its jokes range from subtle lines to slapstick, and a lot of instant vengeful rage and violence are immediately doused and turned into forgiveness. Most of the characters have the sort of depth you’d expect from your average sitcom, although it’s full of Shakespearean profundities as well. It’s a bit of a mystery why the play is named Cymbeline; there was an ancient British king named Cunobeline, although the events of the play barely match the historical events. In the play King Cymbeline is a side character causing difficulties while his daughter Imogen is the main character; it’d be as if J. K Rowling named her book Vernon Dursley and the Sorcerer’s Stone.
I saw the Nashville Shakespeare Festival’s final performance of Cymbeline, August 18th, 2022. While all their other performances this year had been at Nashville’s OneC1TY venue, this one took place at Franklin’s Academy Park. Last year I saw the festival performance of Twelfth Night at OneC1TY, and when I compare my experience between the two venues, I have to say that, while Academy Park wasn’t urban or cool (we were on a soccer field behind the Williamson County Performing Arts Center), I much preferred the Franklin venue. Instead of dealing with garage or street parking at OneC1TY, I parked in the lot behind the Williamson County Library directly beside the field. The location is conveniently close to historic downtown Franklin and its many restaurants and shops.
King Cymbeline (Steven Young) and his Queen (Denice Hicks) Photo: Michael Gomez
The stage was to the south and the Academy Park gym to our right blocked the sun; the field was almost completely in shade by 6:30. Bathrooms were located in the gym and it was nice to be able to use air-conditioned facilities with running water. Last year at OneC1TY they had a port-a-potty trailer, which was also air conditioned with running water, but I had the uncomfortable feeling of maybe being in the wrong spot when I used it, despite the clear signage. It may also be that nothing feels so much like a community event than using part of a community gym.
I arrived a little over thirty minutes before the play was scheduled to start. There were two food trucks, an Italian ice stand, and the Nashville Shakespeare Festival’s official tent with drinks and snacks and merch. After a disappointing snow cone the night before at the Nashville Fair, I told myself that I wouldn’t buy an Italian ice. After seeing a woman buy a delicious looking one, I joined the line before noticing that the cart had a sign saying cash only. I’m under thirty so I sighed and took my cashless self out of line. I was able to buy a cold $2 Coke from the official tent using my card.
This was their 34th Summer Shakespeare production and their experience showed. Their performances are free, although they suggest a ten-dollar donation. They helpfully have QR codes so you can donate with your phone and volunteers were handing out demographic surveys as entries for a drawing, whose prize winners were announced during intermission.
The field was well tended and the white lines painted to designate the blanket and lawn chair seating were clear. The stage was midway down the field and four large wedges of lawn seating with aisles separating them were surrounded by ten or so small metal bleachers, possibly the same ones I sat on last year at OneC1TY. Besides having no sunlight to squint against and a more centered view of the stage, the bleachers somehow felt more comfortable than they did last year, although that probably has more to do with the twenty extra pounds of padding I’ve been carrying since giving birth six months ago.
The demographic was different than OneC1Ty’s last year, fewer diverse twenty-somethings and more older couples and families with children, which is probably more a reflection of the Franklin demographic than a sign of a sudden shift in audience. Before the play started the playground by the gym was full of kids.
When I first arrived, Ele Ivory was performing pleasant indie-pop, and shortly after 6:30 several important people within the Nashville Shakespeare Festival took the stage to thank sponsors and helpful people who made the event happen, and other general, inevitable community event statements that nobody pays attention to. The stage was empty for another ten or fifteen minutes.
The stage was made of risers and had no roof, with stairs leading down to the grass on the front and sides and two backstage entrances with black cloths hanging to provide some screening. Three white tents with tarp walls flanked the stage to form the dressing rooms. There were some gaps where it was easy to see behind the stage and I thought it would be distracting during the performance, but it wasn’t. I never noticed anything that wasn’t supposed to be drawing my attention.
Shane Lowery’s stage design was simple. The backdrop was lovely and consisted of tall trees in a forest without underbrush, a true fantasy here in Tennessee. Four tall, rectangular columns stood across the stage, their wooden sides denoting indoors. When spun, trees painted on their other sides matched the backdrop. These columns were also used to hide characters when scenes called for it. A few large square blocks were moved on stage when seats or a bed was called for, but besides a large trunk that a villain hid inside, the only props were weapons and other handheld items.
About five minutes before the play was to begin, the apprentice players came out in costume and stood along the stage, each taking their turn to thank various sponsors and people like us who made it possible. After another brief pause with an empty stage, loud, vaguely medieval-sounding synths played a fanfare and three people dressed in costume came out calling, “Where is that girl!” Then they stood and asked us to make sure that we silenced our cell phones and other basic courtesies. Then they resumed calling for that girl and left the stage. As they left the stage new people entered and immediately began speaking. It took me a moment to realize that the play had already begun. This was an awkward moment, because the beginning is expository dialogue between characters and I’d missed several key sentences, my mind having expected more requests for polite behavior and not Elizabethan English. I don’t know if the abrupt start was intended or was an accident of the evening, but it made for a bemused audience.
King Cymbeline (Stephen Young), Imogen (Jamie Herb) and Posthumus (Andrew Johnson) Photo: Michael Gomez
After a few minutes of slight confusion and a quick glance at the summary in the program, I understood the initial setup and what was going on. The characters spoke their lines well and their body language helped make the meanings clear; it’s proof of a good Shakespearean performance when the play is more understandable acted out on stage than it is when read through with footnotes and the time to mull over sentences.
Jamie Herb was marvelous as Imogen. She made her character’s fidelity spirited and proof of a strong character. Her tears and laughter pulled me in and she had excellent comedic timing. Andrew Johnson played Cloten, the oafish suitor who won’t take Imogen’s no as an answer, and hammed it up delightfully. I regretted it when he was decapitated and thus no longer able to goof onstage. Tamiko Robinson Steele played Cornelius, the shrewd court doctor, and although she really only had two scenes, she made her moments count; her asides about tricking the queen made us laugh. Ethan Lyvers played Posthumus, Imogen’s husband, and he made his character as charming and good-hearted as possible, despite the difficulties of the character: if my husband thought I had cheated on him I wouldn’t expect his next move to be to tell one of his employees to murder me. And like most people, when I first entered the dating scene I was warned to look at how a person treats waiters, so when Posthumus punched Imogen while disguised as a page when she tried to comfort him, I wouldn’t have jumped as promptly into his arms as she did a few minutes later.
Besides two dramatic scenes, little incidental music was used throughout the play, an occasional flourish opening a scene and some singing from the actors. One song was sung by a quartet that Cloten had hired to serenade Imogen and their performance was musical and funny. It sounded like an Elizabethan-era madrigal. I don’t know if it was an arrangement of an existing tune or if Paul Carrol Binkley, the credited composer for this play, wrote it. Either way, the music surprised and impressed me.
The play is set in Britain during the days of Augustus Caesar, so besides a few centurion outfits, Bethany Dinkel’s costuming was generally medieval, and each character had a distinctive look, helping us to tell them apart in crowded scenes.
Leah Lowe directed Cymbeline. Under her lead the production was fun, the acting felt natural and characters casually insulted each other or wept in betrayal, their iambic pentameter flowing so smoothly that I often forgot I was listening to blank verse. She allowed the humor and pathos of the text to live and didn’t feel a need to shoehorn any politics or contemporary references into the performance, staying true to the enduring quality of Shakespeare. I saw the Commonwealth Shakespeare Company do Cymbeline in Boston in 2019, and when I compared the two performances I preferred the Nashville production—their production was livelier and sillier.
Blocked from streetlights by the performing arts building, the seating became dark as night fell. This made the light-up-sneakers of two boys in the large family climbing around on the bleachers beside me extra glaring. Their parents had opted to maintain the minivan method of seating, sitting separately in chairs and leaving their children to fidget behind them. Besides those children, the crowd was absorbed in the performance, with the exception of a middle-aged man in front of me, who naturally had his phone on light mode with full brightness.
Left to Right, Mary Katherine Chambers, Katie Bruno, and Joyce Torres (Photo: Michael Gomez)
Players were able to leave the stage down the aisles between seating and disappear into the dark field behind the bleachers, allowing us to forget about them exactly when they wanted us to, and we didn’t have to see them rushing around as harried actors. It was a smoother transition than it would have been in a theater, where the clunk of doors and the exit sign lights would have marked boundaries.
The play was roughly two and a half hours long and had one fifteen-minute intermission. When intermission began the soccer field lights were turned on and lit up the entire field, making the rushes to the bathrooms and concessions easy.
During intermission the light-up-sneaker boys continued to jump around the low bleachers and, inevitably, one of them fell and landed uncomfortably on the ground. There was a pause as he took in what happened and was deciding how upset he was, when one of the volunteers, a young woman with blond hair and plastic rimmed glasses said, “Wow, that was a cool fall! Do you want some stickers?” It was masterful. The boy’s siblings quickly informed her that he’d already gotten a sticker and she ended up giving them all some.
The second half of the performance began more smoothly than the first and the audience continued to be engaged, laughing at the jokes and clapping after dramatic moments. Posthumus’s dream scene, when his dead parents appear and beseech the gods on his behalf and Jupiter gives a monologue, was markedly different and had a sense of humor, with synths playing loudly, golden lighting, and sing-song speeches from the characters. The ghosts bobbed back and forth like underwater plants, and the whole scene had a music video feel, if the music video was a pagan version of a non-denominational worship service.
The war scenes’ swords were swung widely and slowly, some of the motions actually in semi-slomo. With a stage full of people running around pretending to kill each other they have to be careful to not actually do it, so I appreciated the way the choreography embraced the emphasized slowness. The bloody lighting, the echoing hollow drums, and a moment when everyone froze as Iachimo gave his guilty confession was striking and dramatic.
My only real disappointment of the night was at the end, as the actors bowed. I was prepared to continue clapping until my hands grew numb and my arms tired, but after full applause for the troupe and the lights went up, people stopped clapping and quickly began gathering their blankets and chairs. There were no curtain calls. I think much of that had to do with how cool the breezy night had become, most of the people in shorts and summer dresses, but they could have warmed themselves with vigorous applause for a fine performance.
On Saturday, September 10 the Nashville Symphony held their opening night for the 2022-23 season with a performance of Gustav Mahler’s epic Symphony No. 2 in C minor, “Resurrection.” Perhaps because of the pandemic, or because of the generally “epic” disposition of classically minded Music City audiences, we have been lucky enough to hear this wonderous work twice in the past six months. This the full production as Mahler intended, and last April the Gateway Chamber Orchestra performed Gilbert Kaplan and Rob Mathes’ splendid adaptation for a smaller, chamber orchestra. It has been a challenging year for a number of reasons for our premiere symphony—those crazy purple birds terrorized us and the concert master flew the coop, but if this wonderous performance is any indication, Guerrero and band are back and better than ever!
The first movement, Mahler’s funeral dirge, is one of the most important moments to the success of any performance of this work. It needs to be terrifying if the heroic resurrection theme that follows is to provide any sense of redemption. On Saturday, the theme emerged in the basses with a striking clarity in horrifying accuracy. First the reeds, then high strings, then the horns joined in, building to a chilling climax that filled the vibrant, and fully sold out Schermerhorn.
The second movement, with its delicate Ländler (an Austrian folk song style often borrowed for symphonic composition) was handled in a fantastic manner by Maestro Guerrero, the balance of these various nostalgic lines maintained the romantic and dreamy memory of the hero’s former life. The nostalgia continued into the Scherzo, opening with St. Anthony preaching to the fish, and closing with the famous “death shriek” which marks a return to darker environs. It must be noted that Acting Concertmaster Erin Hall filled her chair splendidly, as the strings, indeed the entire orchestra sounded “on point” through out the evening in a performance of this ambitious and complicated work.
The warmth and tenderness of Urlicht, the fourth movement whose text is drawn from a Wunderhorn Lied, is one of the most beautiful “calm before the storm” moments in the literature. Mezzo Kelley O’Connor performed it remarkable well, lending the marvelous dark luster of her instrument to the “little red rose” that she sung about. The beautiful and stirring performance of the movement’s brass chorale had brass music students at MTSU talking about it in reverence on Monday morning.
Not to be outdone by their colleagues, at the opening of the final movement the percussion section, as well as the offstage horns and percussion, gave a fantastic showing. Soprano Malin Christensson’s voice blended resonantly and evocatively with the immaculately prepared Nashville Symphony Chorus—the a cappella moment was breathtaking. The movement, beginning with a return of the “death shriek” and ending with the glorious and redemptive birth of the hero, was a simply wonderful way to inform us all that the Nashville Symphony is back in all her glory, and we have survived the pandemic. Perhaps it is time we celebrated. The Nashville Symphony returns to the stage next weekend on September 15-17 with “Trailblazing Women.”
McKay House and Emma Morrison (Photo: Tiffany Bessire)
Across the last four days of July and featuring 160 artists in 19 projects at 5 different venues the annual Kindling Arts Festival, Nashville’s “radically unique arts incubator,” continued its tradition of supporting local Nashville area artists. Founded in 2018, the festival has increasingly presented the tough and gritty yet beautiful and unique character of independent artistic expression in the Music City and this year’s event was no different. I was able to attend only two events this year, POWER: ON at OzArts on Saturday night and BLUR: AN AERIAL DANCE SHOWCASE on Sunday.
POWER: ON featured five dance works interspersed among three short cinematic features. During intermission, an additional amazing 3-part performance was given by dancers from the HUM Dance Collective. The evening opened with McKay House and Emma Morrison’s duet. At sight, the differences between House and Morrison are apparent, but in dance they were brilliantly in tune in an abstract expression of interiority, thought, and understanding. The entrance and exit through a small frame at a fast gate, perhaps a nod to Nijinsky’s jeté couru in Le Spectre de la rose, was as breathtaking. This was followed by McKay House’s phenomenal film Over and Over which sought to blend the “…symbolic, transcendent and surreal with the intricacies of the ordinary.” Opening in rural front yard, moving to the intimate interior of a living room and finally to a primal, sylvan and sapphic
Alexa Winer, Melissa Mangold and Celina Merrill (Photo: Tiffany Bessire)
world, the film depicts the intimacy of human relationships at their best…and worst. Fighting, tension, support, and connection reveal the sophistication of the human experience in relationships and the mutual history that can accrue there.
Examined experience in human relationships, its expression and even exaggeration, also finds a place in Cailin Manning’s film, Going Down, starring a charismatic Lenin Fernandez and charming Getfone Vongkhamchanh. The film explores the nuance of flirtatious tension in an elevator, idealizing the resulting daydream into dance. The epic live duet between Phylicia Roybal and Spencer Grady, A Meeting Place, matched an incredible athleticism with palpable tenderness in both dancers. Alexa Winer’s Sands, also featuring Melissa Mangold and Celina Merrill, was intimate and beautiful. The evening culminated with Becca Holback’s remarkable and intense solo Reprise. She was also featured in Clay Steakley’s remarkable project of poems, music, films and visual art entitled The Fire Cycle: Invocation which askes: “Let our procession be a dance From the outer dark to the inner, better dark.”
Hobeck’s incredible charisma, a fixture in Nashville dance, is countered by her striking height, strength and angular, but still often gentle movements. She balances the exact with the abstract in motion. Rather than conforming, she is the relentless individual.
Indeed, one of my favorite aspects of contemporary dance is the aesthetic of the individual. In traditional ballet the dancers conform to one idealized expression of beauty, but in contemporary dance beauty is manifest in the individual dancer—in their character, their charisma, line, movement, and expression. Throughout the night every one of these dancers found their own place in the bouquet.
Similarly, in BLUR: AN AERIAL DANCE SHOWCASE, movement and individualism ruled the day. The performance featured dancers and aerialists Lauren Cougan, Leah Snyder, Satellite Dance, Bernadette Turnage, Megan Pentacost and Dominique Young and maintained a space somewhere between contemporary dance recital and top-shelf circus spectacular. It is described as “A short-form circus inspired by the Blurry Creatures Podcast, and their coverage on Conspiracy, Theories, Lore and Fairy Tales.” Narratives from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (“I’ve got a Golden Ticket!”) to the dreamscape, to the vampiric, found their place in this amazing showcase of talent. Special mention to the duet between the Ashley Breedlove and Daniel Pentacost on the ground. In the air, the entire cast was amazing in terms of poise, strength, grace, especially on the Lyra or aerial hoop.
The Kindling Arts festival enjoys a great list of sponsors and donors from the Nashville Area and has enjoyed an enviable growth over the last five years. It is a wonderful venue for the interdisciplinary talent of the Music City and I, for one, can’t wait to go next year. I will certainly make time to see more of it! For more information, see www.kindlingarts.com
This summer Benjamin Gates, writer for the Music City Review, had the opportunity to interview NSO Music Director Giancarlo Guerrero about the state of the orchestra and music in the Music City. Below is a transcription of that conversation.
Music City Review (MCR): It’s been an exciting season for the Nashville Symphony. Between great concerts and a lot of firsts, were there any moments this season that stand out in particular in your memory?
Giancarlo Guerrero (GC): “I have to say that every concert has been quite eventful just for the fact of being able to perform again, and slowly but surely getting back into the swing of things and reconnecting with our audiences.”
MCR: I think for us symphony-goers some of the most important moments, things that stick out from this season, have been being back in the Laura Turner Hall, of course, and then within the last few months, the lifting of masking and vaccination requirements. What’s it like on your end navigating these sorts of issues?
Giancarlo Guerrero (Photo Lukasz Rajchert)
GC: Early on, of course, it was like re-learning how to ride a bike. All through the pandemic, I was fortunate to be able to continue working in Europe, even though things were shut down in Nashville and we were all furloughed and you know the story. At least in Europe we were able to continue, but this was by no means perfect. I mean this was a socially-distanced orchestra, which we were willing to put up with, but it goes completely against everything that we as musicians are all about: being together and sharing. But we were willing to put up with it. Even nowadays you saw what happened a little while back, we had to cancel our performances of The Firebird, at least the participation, because of COVID.
We’re not quite out of it, so in many ways it can still be quite frustrating we’re still having to deal with a lot of the health protocols, even though it seems like we’re kind of moving away from that. But we’re not quite out of it and that can make things even harder because we can see the light at the end of the tunnel. And yet we keep getting pulled back into reality. But I do remain very hopeful for the brighter future and that hopefully by the beginning of next season we’re going to be in a different place not only in terms of the pandemic, but also mentally, that we’re just going to have to learn how to live with this. Our devoted audience members attending the Symphony are going to have to learn how to [adapt], and hopefully this won’t become an impediment for them to come back into the hall.
MCR: It’s hard to say of course this far out, but do you think that means next season if there are more spikes of COVID cases, would that manifest as a return of masking and vaccination requirements?
GC: You know, I can tell you right now, we will have spikes. There’s no way around it. We know that. We’ve seen this playbook. I mean, depending on the weather around the world, spikes go up and spikes go down. As I said before, it’s just going to be a matter of how we just learn to live with this. I mean, we have the vaccinations. We have the boosters. We have everything that I think we can do at this point. And after that, it’s just taking precautions. Those people that feel a little bit more at risk perhaps, absolutely if they want to keep wearing masks. But there’s another big part of the population that’s ready to move on, and I think, ready to take that risk.
We have to remember that in many ways before the pandemic we did not live in a risk-free world. There was always a chance. And COVID by far is not the only dangerous virus out there. Even a bad case of the flu can be quite fatal, so to me, as I said, it’s a matter of how we think about this. And I’m hoping for the sake of our artform that people in many ways are going to learn how to live with this in a way that allows them to continue their normal lives, which I hope attending our performances will be a part of. Like I said, there’s a part of me that thinks by the beginning of next season, we’ll all be in a different place where hopefully COVID won’t just be something that is a part of the reality and we’re just going to have to accept it as what it is. In many ways, vaccines may get better or even the virus may get weaker, hopefully we’ll start talking less and less about it. So, that’s just my hope.
MCR: My hope too, and speaking of talking less about it, let’s move on to the music. I’m sure you’re tired of talking about that!
GC: No, that’s quite alright. I mean, it’s the reality of it all. As a music director of an organization not only here but in Europe, as I said, it is a reality, but it’s funny that in Europe it’s already in the back mirrors depending on where you go. It’s really how localized it is. And also how different the regulations are in different countries and in different cities. So, like I said before, it’s like re-learning how to ride a bike. Everywhere you go, it’s going to be different rules, you just have to learn to adjust to it.
MCR: It goes without saying: A lot of work must go into putting together a successful program, let alone an entire season of programs. What kinds of considerations do you make when planning out a season’s worth of concerts, either artistic or practical or both, and how far in advance is a concert’s program typically in place?
Dynamic and world-acclaimed virtuosa Anne Akiko Meyers will perform with the Nashville Symphony in February
GC: So yes and yes and yes and yes. Everything goes into consideration, and when you start you basically start with a clean slate. Post COVID, in many ways, it’s really like starting from a clean slate because we’ve had a couple of years of basically no activity so the idea that ‘Oh! We just played that piece last year, we played that piece three years ago!’ That’s really no longer the case. We’re starting from scratch again. You do have to understand that in normal cases we tend to program stuff two, three years in advance. Not only to plan repertoire precisely, but also for soloists and guest conductors to get it into their calendars. Especially the level of artists we are seeking to come to Nashville, we have to get in their calendars two or three years in advance if we want to get a chance, because we’re competing with the New York Philharmonic, the Boston Symphony, and the Berlin Philharmonic.
It’s that level of artist that we have. But remember that even a year ago we did not know where we were going to be with COVID, so even if we were planning [something], we had almost like almost like alternate realities just in case something else happened. But as things kept getting better, we realized we were going to be in a more normal state and that’s what we planned for, for next season and even the ending of this current season. So, as usual, it’s not only the amount of dates we have available, it’s funding, it’s budgeting, it’s technical, as you say.
One thing about COVID, as much as we don’t like to talk about it, it is currently affecting everything we decide. In a lot of cases, and Nashville Symphony is not an exception to that, we have lost quite a few players, that have gone to do other things, have moved on to other jobs. More, unfortunately, have left music altogether because they needed to find a way to support their family. So, that has created a situation where not all the positions are currently filled by permanent members. We are having to go through the process of auditions. So that obviously weighs on mind when programming repertoire, because I perhaps want to wait. On certain pieces I want to have my full-time people in place to do this, but at the same moment, we do have to move on. And when you see next season, for example, it’s very exciting because we have not only the normal great amount of American repertoire, which we will be recording, which we’re very proud of, but we have Mahler, Mozart, we have Beethoven, and just repertoire that really makes a great symphonic product to be sold, and that makes it quite exciting for us. But yeah, even as we are doing this, we do know that we may need to adjust if need be, but I am hoping that may not be the case.
MCR: You mentioned American music. The Nashville Symphony under your baton has become synonymous with commissioning, programming, and recording contemporary classical music, and above all contemporary American classical music. What has been the audience response from your perspective to so much new music?
GC: From the beginning, like anything, we have to make it a part of the orchestra’s DNA. The audience has come to understand that this is a big part not only of what the Nashville Symphony is all about, but also Nashville. The reason why I think it has been hugely successful and accepted in Nashville, the idea of American new music, is that fact that Nashville being Music City we have American music being performed all aroundtown. When you think about all of the genres that are being recorded, promoted, and performed around the town are American: bluegrass, rock ‘n’ roll, jazz, country, whatever that may be. I mean, country is no longer country. Now we have a kind of combination of pop music and everything else. So, in many ways what we’re doing with the Symphony kind of connects with what’s happening in the reality of Nashville, and I think people see that.
In April the Nashville Symphony will perform Hannibal Lokumbe’s ‘The Jonah People: A Legacy of Struggle and Triumph’ — a world premiere and Nashville Symphony commission
The other reality is something that I have conveyed to the audience from the very beginning of the project, that this music is being commissioned by the Nashville Symphony and is being written specifically for Nashville. And it’s being written with the support of our citizens in the community, not only through their donations as supporters and philanthropists, but anybody who buys a ticket basically is giving their okay that this is what they want to see from their Symphony. The combination of the great old warhorses with what’s being written today. Also, the idea of the project of not just playing music and giving it to you like it’s some kind of bad medicine. The idea of bringing these composers to the city and giving them the opportunity of a voice and speaking to our audience what the music is about. It’s exactly as if you were alive in the 1800s and you got a chance to go to a Beethoven world premiere and Beethoven is talking to you on a pre-concert lecture. It’s exactly the same thing. We just have to think in terms of history. And I think over the years the fact that these have been incredibly accepted as central not only in our recordings and commissions, and remember we’ve gotten a lot of Grammys out of this, the world has noticed. I think there’s a great sense of pride in the city and our concertgoers, a feeling of saying ‘I was there. I was a part of this. I promoted this. I supported this.’ And my spirit in these recordings, remember they’re all live, they feel that they owned it.
And yes. Nashville owns all of these commissions and the fact that all of these great, living American composers want to be a part of the Nashville Symphony speaks volumes about the reputation of the orchestra, and more importantly of our community and of our very sophisticated audience. So, it’s something that doesn’t happen overnight. We have had to work over time and I think at this stage in my tenure with the orchestra, the audience understands the importance of this. That yes, we love our old-time warhorses. I’ll be the first one in line for that! Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, Brahms, Stravinsky. Absolutely! But those guys at some point, every single one, was new music. And somebody had to give them a chance. So now it is my generation’s time to give those voices today the opportunity to become the next Stravinsky, the next Brahms, the next Beethoven. So that is what is just so important, and I think audiences are understanding and getting the great kick of getting to know these people personally and hear them speak about their own music and understanding what it is they’re trying to achieve.
MCR: What does the term “Classical canon” mean to you in the 21st century?
GC: It’s meaningless. I mean, it changes. You know what, the classical canon in Nashville may be the different classical canon in Franklin, Tennessee. And it may be the classical canon in Vienna or in Berlin or in New York. Listen, I program for Middle Tennessee. I think of repertoire, and I think of musical seasons not only classical, but altogether, for Middle Tennessee. And as you well know over the last fifteen years, at least since I moved here, the changes have been unbelievable. This is not the same community it was three years ago or five years ago or ten years ago. So, the idea is that we have to keep programming music and repertoire and artists that are relevant to our community. Because remember what works in Chicago might not work in Nashville, and that’s perfectly fine. So, my idea is bringing repertoire that means something for people. Of course, there is repertoire like Beethoven, which is timeless. But then again, which symphony? And why? And what do you pair this with?
In November, the ensemble will pair Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6 “Pastoral” with Gabriela Lena Frank’s ‘Conquest Requiem” in a Live Recording (potential Grammy?)
Like next season, I’m doing the Gabriela Lena Frank Conquest Requiem next to Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony. Well, there’s a programmatic connection there. The idea of this Conquest Requiem being written for a time of the conquest, which involves a lot of nature, and then Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony, which is aptly called the “Pastoral.” I see there’s a connection there. And in many ways by putting these two pieces together, I have a feeling, and I know for a fact that Beethoven’s Sixth is going to have a chance to sound fresh again next to a 21st century piece. And that’s what you need to do. Remember that attending a concert is not like staying at home listening to a CD. Attending a live performance is a different experience. And that’s what I want to provide audiences: go through a journey of hearing these pieces as a whole. And it’s going to be a bumpy journey like it always is. You don’t expect everything to be life changing. You want to go there and have the opportunity to discuss and see how this music may have moved you, or not.
MCR: Speaking of how much Nashville has changed in general since you took over as director of the NSO, could you describe how you’ve seen the Nashville Symphony change, but also in general the classical music community in and around Nashville?
GC: It’s gotten larger, which is great in many ways. I mean, many people have moved into Nashville that have brought not only music lovers, but people with different tastes as well. People that have normally attended performances or were subscribers in New York or Chicago or LA or anywhere else bring their own ideas, and they have become a regular part of, let’s say, our audience members. And they have been very vocal about what they want to hear and how excited they are that, for example, where they came from was perhaps a little bit too conservative for their taste. And it depends also on age range. I mean, that also has a lot to do with it. But remember that also here we have the Opera, we have the Ballet, we have Intersection, we have the Nashville Philharmonic, all of these. Because it is a town that is filled with musicians and in many cases really great musicians, so that not everybody belongs to the Nashville Symphony. But they’ve managed to create all these other side organizations that at the same time are generating more music lovers, which is so important for all of us.
So, I think Nashville is definitely living up to its nickname of “Music City.” And classical music, for me, it has been very exciting to see how it has continued to grow, and I hope that that is the case because when that happens it means there is demand. That there is a desire in the community to listen to this music. So, for me it has been inspiring to see how many of my colleagues are being successful putting programs together for smaller ensembles, which is fantastic. That’s something we don’t do, but I think it’s still necessary. And of course, I haven’t even included the Universities and the schools. I mean, what is happening, even in the middle schools around Middle Tennessee, the level of music being made in the bands and the orchestras is quite remarkable. All of that has the great ability to generate more and more music lovers and more interest in what it is that we do.
MCR: Looking ahead to next season, you mentioned you love every concert, but are there any pieces you’re especially looking forward to conducting next year?
GC: Oh, well there are pieces that I haven’t done in a long time. I’ll tell you one: the second concert for example is [Gustav Holst’s] The Planets. I haven’t done that piece in a long time. And it’s always a favorite, I know. Orchestras love playing it, and I know audiences adore it, so that one I’m looking forward to. The Mozart Requiem, which is a piece that, again, was already programmed during COVID time and because of it, we had to cancel it. So, it’s like reconnecting with an old friend. It’s a piece that, again, is very close to my heart, and I haven’t done it all that many times so every time I get to do it, it’s exciting. The Mahler Second to open the season, which is titled “The Resurrection.” You see the connection here. I mean, that one is a pretty easy one. Of all the projects, I do have to say, there is a lot of new music I’ve never done before. And that can be quite scary because as a conductor you kind of learn, the more you conduct. So, the first time you conduct Beethoven Five, you’re going to be stepping on a lot of land mines. Or any classical piece. And the more you do it, the more you figure it out. But because of the way we try to program the season with so much new stuff, and some of it already postponed from COVID time, I found myself with a lot of music I’ve never done before.
In September, a concert featuring Tower, Wolf and Price
So, it means I’m going to have to be learning a lot of new music very fast. To begin with, the opening subscription program is three female composers, two of them who I know very well in the case of Joan Tower and Julia Wolf, and the world premiere of Her Story, which was a piece for the 19th amendment, the Women’s Suffrage. And Florence Price, who has had this incredible popularity, which has been long overdue, I will be doing her piano concerto, which, again, was something that was cancelled from COVID time. So, to do three completely new pieces in one program is quite daunting. I don’t think I can remember the last time when an entire program I was doing was of music that I’ve never done before even though I love it. Including one world premiere, which by the way, I still haven’t seen the score yet. And another one of those pieces later in the season is TheJonah People by Hannibal Lokumbe, which is again this great project that Hannibal wanted to do, and me and the Nashville Symphony decided, you know, we’re going to give you the voice for it. I still haven’t seen the score for it. So that’s going to be another long evening, a lot of music for me to learn. Fortunately, I have the composers around if I have any questions. They’re only one email or one Zoom call away.
MCR: One major change for the 2022/2023 season that concertgoers are already aware of is, of course, that Concertmaster Jun Iwasaki will be leaving for an opportunity at the Kansas City Symphony. I’m sure the two of you must have developed quite a solid working dynamic over the last eleven years. Are there any concerts or pieces that stand out to you from your time working together?
GC: Oh, absolutely. I would say pretty much every single one is unique in their own way. When you have performances, of course they all have their own memories to them. But you’re absolutely right, I mean, I was fortunate enough that I brought Jun to Nashville. I hired him when he was very, very young, by the way. This was basically his second position as concertmaster of a major orchestra. But we connected immediately, and he was an incredible right hand for me. Remember that he is one of the most important musicians just by hierarchy in an orchestra, by being basically my right hand, but at the same time he’s the leader of the string section, not only the violins, and that is by far the largest section of any orchestra—so the one that can have the most impact when you’re developing a sound and style in an orchestra. He was instrumental in developing that. Remember that when he came in, the hall was still relatively new. So, in many ways we were still learning how to play at Laura Turner Hall! And over the years that has been one of the most exciting things discovering all the many ways we could improve the way the Nashville Symphony presents itself while at
Violinist Jun Iwasaki
the same time participating in auditions and helping me select players. So, his opinion and his advice have been present in pretty much a lot of the most important artistic decisions that I have made. Plus, you know, he has played as soloist quite a few times with the orchestra, so in many ways I would say that he’s probably the best-known musician within the orchestra, the most recognizable face, and that’s just pretty much in every major symphony orchestra the concertmaster is the person that comes out, tunes the orchestra.
I’m not going to mince words here, losing him is quite a blow to the Symphony, but at the same time I am very happy for him as his friend and his colleague that he’s found this other opportunity for himself and for his family. I know that it was a very difficult decision, but just like it did eight or nine years ago, it opens up an opportunity for us to look for somebody as great and as exciting as Jun is, and I’m sure that with the many amazing players coming out of conservatories now, I’m sure that we will find the perfect person that will take us, again, to that next level and continue this amazing artistic growth of the Nashville Symphony just the way that Jun did. He will be greatly missed. I’ll tell you on a personal level, I will miss him very dearly, but at the same time I am excited for him and for his family, and I am also excited for the new possibilities this opens for the Nashville Symphony.”
MCR: I have one last question for you. Of course, the influx of people to the city has brought more change than just more traffic and new construction. As many are probably aware, changes to the local tree canopy have created an unusual and unfortunate situation: flocks of thousands and thousands of purple martins, which usually stop in and around Nashville on their way to South America, roosting all at once at the Schermerhorn and causing quite a lot of damage over the last few summers. What was it like dealing with the influx of birds (and tourists to see the martins!) from your perspective?
GC: (Laughs) Of course I have to tell you a lot of this was happening during the pandemic when the Hall was shut. And because of the fact there was nothing going on in the Hall, there wasn’t really the daily maintenance that you expect when we’re in normal times, daily cleaning you know. I mean the Hall was shut down. There was nothing going on. Our entire staff including our cleaning staff was laid out. So, I think that made the situation much worse than it could have been. And after the fact that we were coming back, it was almost like having to assess the real damage that was done over a couple of years of not really taking care of it. Because let’s face it. We were not paying attention to birds. We were all just trying to figure out how this COVID thing was going to end. And then by the end of this happening we came to realize, yeah, there were bigger damage than we expected. This doesn’t really fall into the artistic part of my job description, honestly, and in many ways, I feel like I was lucky enough I did not have to be a part of those discussions, because as I understand it from Alan Valentine and from our staff, it got very, very heated. I mean it got to a point that, as it happens with social media, there was a lot of misinformation and a lot of vitriol.
The problematic purple marlin
Like I said, in many ways I was lucky that I was not part of that, but one thing is for sure: nobody wants to see any of these birds damaged or hurt or what have you, and I’m sure that in the world we live in, in the 21st century with all of the technology, I am sure that all of the possible fixes to this were considered. And in the end, I remember talking to our executive director that they did all the research they could with experts about how to properly deal with this situation, and whatever solution that was going to happen was not going to be a perfect one, but there would be one that was going to be the most successful and one that would work for all the parties involved. So, in the end, let’s face it, I mean we do have a responsibility not only to our concertgoers but to our beautiful building, which was a huge investment from our community that put millions of dollars to make this happen, and we have a responsibility to the health of our concertgoers and our musicians. I mean, a lot of this stuff is not healthy to have around.
I have absolutely 500% trust that the people that were looking at this not only from the Symphony side, but also the City’s side and the conservancy side, everybody came together to come up with the best solution, and in the end, here we are. But I truly believe that all of this was made worse by the fact, as I said, the building was idle for a couple of years. In the meantime, the birds took over not only the Schermerhorn but basically that whole area. And then as we are getting out and everybody’s coming back, we came to realize ‘Oh my God. This was worse than we expected.’ And you can say that for a lot of the city. I remember coming to the Hall in the midst of the pandemic, and it was so eerie to see the entire city completely empty and silent. It was like a zombie apocalypse. It was quite scary. It was quite eerie. But here we are, trying to move on and on top of that here we have the situation with the birds. I hope and pray this has been taken care of and that we’re going to move on. You’re never going to be able to make everybody happy.
That’s just a reality, but in the end, we have to do what’s in the best interest of the institution, for our people, for the city, and I am proud we have the staff and the people necessary to move this forward in the best way possible and, you know, we can’t look back. We have bigger problems that we have to deal with, and I am hoping very soon that we will be able to put all of this stuff behind us and go back to a time when all we had to worry about was just come over and enjoy great music and listen to our fabulous Nashville Symphony.
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Lauren Cougan, Leah Snyder, Satellite Dance, Bernadette Turnage, Megan Pentacost and Dominique Young and maintained a space somewhere between contemporary dance recital and top-shelf circus spectacular. It is described as “A short-form circus inspired by the Blurry Creatures Podcast, and their coverage on Conspiracy, Theories, Lore and Fairy Tales.” Narratives from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (“I’ve got a Golden Ticket!”) to the dreamscape, to the vampiric, found their place in this amazing showcase of talent. Special mention to the duet between the Ashley Breedlove and Daniel Pentacost on the ground. In the air, the entire cast was amazing in terms of poise, strength, grace, especially on the Lyra or aerial hoop.
