Nashville Symphony's release
The Second Summer Release from the Nashville Symphony
Three weeks after cancelling the 20/21 season, the Nashville Symphony released a new recording featuring the music of the Grammy and Pulitzer Prize winning composer Christopher Rouse. This recording, the 21st for the Nashville Symphony under Naxos’ American Classics label, is a welcome addition to the fruitful collaboration between the Nashville Symphony and American composers. This is the second installment of a trio of recordings to be released this summer: Aaron Jay Kernis’ Color Wheel released in June, this Christopher Rouse feature, and Tobias Picker’s Opera Without Words scheduled for release in August. Under the direction of Music Director Giancarlo Guerrero, the CD was recorded over a series of live concerts in 2017 and 2019 and features a triptych of Rouse’s works: Symphony No. 5 (2015), Supplica (2013), and Concerto for Orchestra (2008). These three works make an excellent grouping as they highlight the power, energy, and color that Rouse brings to his orchestral work.
Rouse’s Symphony No. 5 was a joint commission between the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, the Aspen Music Festival, and our own Nashville Symphony. Rouse completed the work in 2015 and it was premiered by Jaap van Zweden and the Dallas Symphony in 2017. For Rouse, his own 5th symphony has deep connections to Beethoven’s 5th. In the liner notes of the CD, Thomas May quotes Rouse on this relationship: “The first piece of ‘classical music’ I remember hearing was Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony . . . and I remember thinking that a whole new world was opening up to me. I decided that I wanted to become a composer. So when it came time for me to composer my own Fifth Symphony, my thoughts returned fondly to that time, and I resolved to tip my cap to Beethoven’s mighty symphony.”
Although Rouse is indebted to Beethoven’s work in the symphonic genre, this piece is not a cheap re-telling of Beethoven’s symphony. Rouse composes surely in his own musical language. Sure, the very opening of Rouse’s symphony mimics Beethoven’s famous four-note motif with power and intensity, but Rouse quickly moves in quite a different direction. Rouse dashes between competing themes, rhythms, and orchestrations in this highly technical score. Although there are a few moments of muddiness, the Nashville Symphony brings this score to life in a vivid and spirited way.
The following piece, Supplica, offers a slow counterweight to the outer ends. It is a slow, single movement work completed in 2013 as a joint commission by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and the Pacific Symphony. The work’s title is the Italian word for “supplication” and with this piece Rouse offers up a humble, yet deeply affecting prayer. Scored for a small orchestra of brass, harp, and strings, the piece lasts twelve minutes. Asked by Guerrero about the small instrumentation, Rouse responds “
why use instruments I don’t need?”
With this pared down orchestration Rouse is quickly able to draw you into his prayer. Intimate strings, led by concertmaster Jun Iwasaki, plead and hope upwards, yet it is an entreaty colored with sadness. Guerrero masterfully draws out meaning behind long climbing melodies that lead to a climax of brass and strings. The Nashville Symphony’s fantastically full gamut of dynamics and tone quality is present in this piece. It seems as if the Schermerhorn and its’ beautiful acoustics were built for this piece. The piece ends unresolved, perhaps waiting for an answer from above. Rouse has been reticent to speak on the meaning behind Supplica. Although in a video interview with the Nashville Symphony he says:“I consider composers savers of souls. If a priest, let’s say, is a saver of souls for the next life, I think that composers, and other creative artists, are savers of souls in this life. We can really have an impact, we can entertain, but we can console, heal, enlighten, and anger. We can do all sorts of things to those who experience our music, and that to me is the power that Classical music, in particular because it goes really to the very depths of the deepest part of the human experience.”
The last offering on this record is the Concerto for Orchestra. Christopher Rouse is no stranger to the concerto, he has written twelve instrumental concertos including his 1991 Trombone Concerto which won the Pulitzer Prize for Music. This is the first recording of Rouse’s Concerto for Orchestra. The idea of a concerto for the orchestra reached fruition when Béla Bartók wrote his own Concerto for Orchestra in 1943. Since then numerous 20th and 21st century composers have found the form to be ripe for wonderful musical possibilities, Rouse included.
Rouse has written that the work is divided into “connected halves (the term being used loosely).” The first half is made up of five alternating fast and slow sections while the second half contains a slower and faster part that develops material from the earlier half. As the thought of a concerto would imply, this piece is incredibly complex with immense technical and musical demands. There are juxtapositions throughout: instrumental families fighting each other, unstable poly-rhythms struggling against a steady beat, and tempi that lead to a manic climax, all of which prove to be no match for the Nashville Symphony. Guerrero brings this score to life and showcases the Nashville Symphony’s full abilities with this piece.
Overall, this recording is a great tribute to Christopher Rouse and another feather in the Nashville Symphony’s cap. It is my understanding that Rouse was at many of the rehearsals and concerts for these live recordings, and is the last recording made under his supervision. Although this recording is superb, it really is no match to hearing the Nashville Symphony live, and I look forward to when that option is available again.
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Hope from the Nashville Opera
Can You Imagine a Beach-Party Themed Cinderella Next June? Nashville Opera can!
In the most wonderful sense of optimism and a little more than a decent dose of stubbornness, Nashville Opera has released their schedule for next season, a celebration of their 40th anniversary and it looks to be a doozy!
One Vote One
The season opens on September 25-27 with a commission, N.O.’s first, in a performance of the election day drama One Vote One with music composed by Tennessee native
David Ragland and the libretto by Mary McCallum. Originally hailing from Chattanooga, Ragland has been on the Nashville scene for some time now, I first heard his music in his beautiful arrangement of spirituals at the Upon these Shoulders celebration at Fisk University in 2017, and he made his directorial debut with the Nashville Opera during the 2013-14 season in their production of David Lang’s “The Difficulty of Crossing a Field.” His Steal Away was originally scheduled with Oz Arts in April, but had to be cancelled because of COVID19. McCallum, who has written for stage and screen including Singleville (2018) and the fictional historical play Six Triple Eight (2015), is a wise choice for the libretto.
These two artists will be able to share their talents for historical depiction in One Vote One with a plot that includes suffragist Frankie Pierce (played by Jennifer Whitcomb-Oliva) and Civil Rights activist Diane Nash (played by Brooke Leigh Davis) as they work to convince a young Gloria (played by Tamica Nicole Harris) that her vote counts.. Never an organization to shy away from a political topic, Director John Hoomes and company are working with the MTSU Center for Historic Preservation to create a study guide that meets Tennessee standards for U.S. history.
Opera Jukebox
In October, the company will present the newest in pandemic operatic genres, the “Opera Jukebox.” Not much to say here except that money talks and I hope the rich folks seek to hear something other than the same old chestnuts like “Nessun Dorma,” “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle'” or the flower duet.
Rigoletto
Then in April, if one can imagine the end of the pandemic, the return of our economy, and a post-election 2020 world, the company has scheduled a new staging of
Verdi’s Rigoletto in a film noir style. Likely to be the highlight of the artistic season in Music City (ok, so maybe there wont be much competition) the staging will include its own original film noir by Penumbra Entertainment, winner of the Nashville Opera Noir Filmfest. However, the cast is quite exciting too; as Nashville Opera describes the production: “The wise-cracking Rigoletto (Michael Mayes), despised by all save his beautiful daughter (soprano Kathryn Lewek in her first appearance as Gilda), is powerless to protect her from the lechery of his boss, Duke (Zach Borichevsky also making his role debut).” Notably, the production was initially planned for last season but the world stopped. From Lewek’s facebook of March 16th, 2020:
My husband Zach Borichevsky, tenor and I are disappointed about the cancellation of Nashville Opera’s production of Rigoletto in which we were to make our role debuts as Duke and Gilda, respectively. However, we are so grateful to the company, as they are paying us a portion of our contract. It’s amazing to see regional companies like Nashville, led by John Hoomes, set the example for other companies. We have just donated a part of our earnings to the AGMA (American Guild of Musical Artists) artist relief fund. I hope all who have the means to make a small or large donation will consider…”
Cinderella
More than half of businesses that closed during the pandemic won’t reopen
The reviews site has been keeping tabs on closures since March. Businesses can update their status to temporarily or permanently closed on Yelp.
As of August 31, nearly 163,700 businesses on Yelp have closed since March 1, the company said, marking a 23% increase from July 10. Of those, about 98,000 say they’ve shut their doors for good.
Of all closed businesses, about 32,100 are restaurants, and close to 19,600, or about 61%, have closed permanently.
Read MoreA New Recording from the Nashville Symphony:
Aaron Jay Kernis’ Color Wheel and 4th Symphony, “Chromelodeon”
The Nashville Symphony just released it’s newest recording on Naxos’s American Classics series. Featuring two works by Pulitzer, Grammy and Grawemeyer Award winning composer Aaron Jay Kernis, Color Wheel (2001) and Symphony No. 4 ‘Chromelodeon (2018), this recording will complement well the Symphony’s already extensive collection of contemporary music recordings (listed here: https://www.nashvillesymphony.org/media/recordings/). Kernis, who wrote the wonderful liner notes (unfortunately printed in a miniscule font) approves of the pairing, describing the two pieces as “…like related family members – one brash and exuberant, the other more serious and pensive in intent, though no less bold in manner.” One imagines this to be Kernis lending voice to his version of Schumann’s personas “Eusebius” and “Florestan,” allowing them to be heard at the Schermerhorn. However, it isn’t really one of Schumann’s several personalities that I hear in Kernis’ work, instead it is an expression in orchestral color resembling Strauss, bound up with an American sound that features terrifying dramatic crescendos contrasted with intimate, poignant, or at times downright creepy quiet moments, all unified through the subtle employment of thematic variation and rich chromaticism.
Color Wheel was composed for the opening of the Verizon Hall at the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts in Philadelphia where it was premiered by Philadelphia Orchestra (one of the original “Big Five” orchestras) under the baton of the great Wolfgang Sawallisch.
A miniature concerto for orchestra, written for the Philadelphia Orchestra no less, is no small challenge, but Maestro Giancarlo Guerrero and the Nashville Symphony prove themselves up to the task. Ever the master of articulating the subtle reprise, Guerrero led the Nashville Symphony from the terrifying opening chords through the piece’s kind of circular form in which these chords (and motives derived there-from) return over and over again. The form is both symphonic and blustering, moving through a blistering fast scherzo that ambushes the opening section, only to lead to an interruptive slow section, before returning again with the opening idea as an expressive dénouement in orchestral color; It is an inspired movement.
Kernis’ says that in 2018 a Symphony “can seem anachronistic” but he justifies the genre through its Mahlerian ability to “contain the entire world,” and push “…past boundaries of what I’ve explored in my work up to that point.” With his Fourth Symphony, entitled Chromelodeon , he has created a world that is richly chromatic, marked by unease, contemplative intensity and, in the first movement particularly, obsessive rumination. Subtitled “Out of the Silence,” the first movement reveals a composer much more in tune with his process, achieving in a quiet tune for viola the same expressive intensity that would have demanded bombast and bluster a decade earlier. It’s not pretty, but that isn’t Kernis’s goal, it is intense.
The Symphony’s second movement, entitled “Thorn Rose I Weep Freedom (after Handel)” draws its primary melody from a vague influence of Handel, and juxtaposes chromaticism with consonance which is, at times, even presented simultaneously through separate registers, dynamics or timbre. The consonance is deconstructed by the chromaticism in a striking process. The initial consonances sound in an interesting and almost Coplandesque pan-diatonicism but after being subjugated to waves of the “hectoring” chromatic, results in an ethereal, Ives’ inspired (vox angelical) sub-conscious attenuation that, as Kernis describes it, appears “broken and distorted.” This last is played with remarkable clarity by Nashville’s strings, and Guerrero’s handling of this movement’s precarious balance is nuanced and deft.
…there yet remains remarkable power in absolute expression.
The third and final movement continues the juxtaposition, but introduces a rhythmic component placing a slow horn chorale and fanfare against busy and disjunct melodies. This, the shortest movement, turns the previous narrative on its head and ends with a final, climactic perfection—it is a heroic tale told in absolute musical terms, despite all of the movement titles. As Kernis describes it “This new symphony is created out of musical elements, not images or stories…” Perhaps it is anachronistic, but there yet remains remarkable power in absolute expression.
Contemporary music is often regaled for its accessibility, Kernis’ work stands against that. It is interesting and complicated music that draws on the work of great minds that precede it and greatly rewards repeated hearings. This recording will find its due place in the pantheon of American Classics, as the series label suggests. The first of three due out from Naxos and Nashville this summer, it looks to be a very nice season—even if we are all stuck at home.
As a final note: Particularly with the Color Wheel, but also with the Chromelodia Symphony, hearing this recording flooded me with a sense of nostalgia for the Schermerhorn with its light touch of reverb and responsiveness to forte blasts. Kernis especially wrote his Color Wheel to bring out the sound of the space and our great Maestro Guerrero succeeds in making the Schermerhorn ring. I miss the Nashville Symphony and while I understand the necessity of the current suspension, I’m taken aback at its length. Other orchestras have found a way to continue, some online, whether live or recorded (Philadelphia, Chicago, London) or live performances to socially distanced audiences (Vienna, Berlin). Even Nashville Opera is surveying its options, but very few have simply cancelled the entire season. It feels like we have witnessed the end of an era.
At the OZ Arts Website:
Burdens from a Distance
Carrying burdens: a universally accepted part of life and timely theme as the world shares a collective burden. Over the course of three years, speaking to hundreds of people from all walks of life, Jana Harper discovered the same underlying concerns we all share: “our loved ones, our futures, our planet, and of course, our health.” This Holding was created from the exploration of these burdens, portraying this portion of the human experience in a raw, beautiful, and thought-provoking way. During a period when many feel more alone than ever in their lives, Harper holds a fitting sentiment about her work: “If This Holding could leave you with one feeling, I hope it is the knowledge that you are not alone.”
This Holding: Traces of Contact, rather than being performed live, was presented as an online film event by OZ Arts Nashville in response to the widespread healthy and safety concerns due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Originally conceived for the stage, once rehearsals were stymied by prohibited in-person gatherings and the assembly of a large audience was out of the question, the entire creative team quickly pivoted in order to re-imagine the work for film. In a live Q & A session following the performance, members of the team commented about the transition of the creative process and how the changed conditions impacted their interpretations and performances of the work as a final product. Despite the circumstances, the production team was thrilled with the outcome, recognizing the performance as a unique product of its time, and voicing appreciation for the ability to utilize uncommon settings and the beauty of nature as part of the narrative.
Divided into seven acts, the film event honed in on individuals, duos, or divided groups of dancers, seemingly socially distanced. Soloists and distanced group dancers interacted with artistic objects, representative of various burdens one might carry, while duos interacted only with one another, portraying various relationship complexities and the burdens that attend.
…the dancer contemplated it, dragged it, entwined herself in it, and attempted to walk while bound by her affliction.
Each solo act honed in on a single dancer, interacting with objects in a tangible representation of human hardship. The first, Emma Morrison, appeared in a verdant
landscape as she related to and struggled with an incredibly long, seemingly endless, artistically rendered “burden.” Sewn from many lengths of different colored fabric and evidently filled with something heavy, the prop resembled a Burmese python as the dancer contemplated it, dragged it, entwined herself in it, and attempted to walk while bound by her affliction. The second soloist (David Flores) appeared in front of a warehouse at night, attempting to pick up and carry a myriad of colored sandbags, lifting one after the other in order to take with him. The ceaseless struggle of picking up bag after bag, bearing their weight, attempting to carry them elsewhere, then only to have one fall, then another, and then another, was difficult to watch and felt painfully authentic.
All three duets seemed to cast light on different types of human relationships, each in its own unique stage, with unspoken intricacies between the two people. The first duo appeared passionate and lustful, yet timid and reserved at times. Close-up person to person contact, combined with the natural landscape and stunning cinematography, created a sense of intensely personal sensuality and exclusivity. The second duo portrayed a more weathered relationship, undoubtedly with history and baggage, but with maturity and contemplation. Rather than looking for the world in one another, the two were stretched out on the forest floor in repose, facing outward in the same direction, pondering the concerns of life together. The final duo characterized a more platonic friendship, filled with love and devotion, yet not without disappointment and hurt. Unexpected combinations of movements channeled quickly changing emotions, ranging from jagged confusion and resentment to flowing warmth and adoration.
The two ensemble numbers, despite appearing in disparate landscapes, functioned similarly in spacing, with each dancer relegated to six feet away from any of the others. The first group number involved each dancer wearing a large sheet of black fabric, wrapped about their body and limiting their range of motion. Over the course of the act, the film brilliantly captured the unlikely landscape combination of greenery and black tarmac, the overarching feeling of unrest and discomfort, and each dancer’s individual relationship with their black burden.
The final act featured the largest number of dancers of any movement, positioned six feet from one another, each enclosed by a snake-like, multi-colored art prop, arranged in a circle around their area. With each dancer wearing a unique, brightly colored outfit, the group of movers stood out against a stark, rooftop pavement scene, devoid of
nature or greenery. As the camera panned and re-focused on smaller groups or independent dancers, each dancer seemed to choose from a library of movements suited to or chosen for their character. One flowed endlessly from one new movement to the next, while another performed a sequence on repeat. Some moved with extroverted emotion, attempting to interact with the world around them, while others looked inward, ignoring outside factors and expressing restrained, introspective affliction. Upon observing the dancers individually as well as in combination, a spectator cannot help but begin to identify on a personal level, watching each character battle their own demons, surrounded by the blunt landscape of concrete structure, yet the vibrant color of human existence.
Jana Harper’s vision for this work came to life with the assistance of movement and assistant director Rebecca Steinberg, composer and musician Moksha Sommer, and filmmaker Sam Boyette. Steinberg’s originality and adaptability to a film setting brought an intimate, confidential feel to the movement of the work, highlighting the strengths of each dancer and utilizing existing relationships to re-imagine multi-person numbers during a time of separation. Sommer’s original score brought warmth and interest to trying subject matter, highlighting sounds of nature in and amongst electronically programmed and live instrumental music. Boyette’s videography beautifully captured the energy, emotion, and depth of each dance number, combining all seven movements to create a captivating work of art.
The collaboration that took place in order to create and carry out This Holding: Traces of Contact is a moving reminder of how unified and connected we have the power to be, whether together or apart physically. Recognizing the burdens that unify us is just another means of learning how to move forward together. Perhaps Harper got her wish—after watching this performance, one can feel only gratitude and hope, knowing there is strength and power in shared experiences with others, trials and tribulations included.
The Nashville Symphony via Youtube:
After the Storm . . .
I’m not sure about you, but I’m already looking forward to putting 2020 in the rearview mirror. We’re not even halfway through the year and we’ve weathered a catastrophic tornado and are grappling with a global pandemic . . . and we’re not out of the woods yet. As our communities gradually reopen and we learn to adjust to what is a hopefully temporary “new normal”, we are all confronted with uncertainty and apprehension about the future. But, even as we adjust to quarantine, social distancing, facemasks, and the elbow bump rather than the handshake – we can still take joy in life’s simple pleasures . . . at least this is what I tell my kids (and myself) after I’ve defused the umpteenth screaming argument over screen time.
So, when I saw that on May 28th the Nashville Symphony had posted a performance of the 5th movement of Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony captured via Zoom, I decided to take my own advice and carve out a few minutes to enjoy a little music and remember that this too shall pass. I know the ensemble had already planned to perform the Pastoral Symphony this Spring before live concerts were put on hold, but given the current circumstances, the 5th movement (Joyful and thankful feelings after the storm) is perfect programming. Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony has long been associated with the composer’s love of nature, and this too reflects current events as our parks, greenways, and trails have been teeming with visitors while other entertainment venues remain closed. All of the mid-state seems to be enjoying a chance to slow down and rediscover the natural beauty we sometimes take for granted. Though we’re not completely out of this storm, a moment of reflection and thankfulness is certainly a welcome prospect.
The Symphony’s performance is available to view on YouTube and is presented as a kind of mosaic of individually shot videos that have been cleverly edited together to show the musicians in an approximation of a symphonic seating order during tutti sections – with the strings down front and winds in the back. The audio is impressive, as I imagine that multiple sound files were painstakingly edited together to create the whole. This was no small feat, but the overall product sounds relatively seamless. As smaller consorts or soloists emerge, individual video panes are enlarged and highlighted, lending a sense of intimacy to what could have felt static or removed. All of the video was obviously created by the musicians themselves, filming and recording their individual parts at home – and this was particularly moving as those we usually see on stage in formal dress are presented here in t-shirts, in living rooms, surrounded by the framework of everyday life.
I think it is safe to say that in recent months, we’ve all felt vulnerable at one point or another. I know that I have. But, there is a strength in recognizing that this is a shared experience. The willingness of the Nashville Symphony’s musicians to perform from their homes, to invite audiences in, and to make this a very personal experience, serves as a reminder that art music, even stalwarts of the classical canon, aren’t artifacts to be admired from afar, but are living pieces of art that continue to evolve and communicate the more they are shared with one another.
As a resolution to the “storm” it follows, Beethoven’s 5th movement also reminds us that storms will eventually pass, and until we’re out of this one, I welcome the chance to share more music with the Nashville Symphony from afar. So, if you could use a moment of thankfulness, click the link below and take a stroll through the countryside (or your neighborhood) in true Beethovenian fashion to enjoy a gift of joy and clarity courtesy of the Nashville Symphony.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umObaE_5bXI
From the Pedestrian Bridge:
Chatterbird Performs Honstein
Down Baby Down by New York composer Robert Honstein (b. 1980) is a piece for percussion quartet in six movements. One imagines that the composition process started with the composer making a comprehensive list of noises that can be produced with a cello before unceremoniously crossing off “use a bow”. The piece, which runs just over 20 minutes, features cello, desk bells, woodblocks, and (what appears to be) 18 gallon storage bins with kick pedals attached. Taps, knocks, dings, booms, slaps, plucks, and hums are used intermittently as the performers mirror each other’s movements across a table adorned with a myriad of small percussion toys.
The piece develops slowly, but attention and interest is earned through an ever changing landscape of sounds and textures. The video, featuring Chatterbox’s Jesse Strauss, Maya Stone, Celine Thackston, and Aaron Walters is well performed, well shot, and well produced. Downtown Nashville and Cumberland Park serves as a background for the recording. An extra layer of interest is added by imagining the curious looks the quartet undoubtedly received from bachelorette parties finding their way to Broadway over the walking bridge in the video’s background. It’s a fun time! Check it out here: https://vimeo.com/415016631#at=1190 or on the homepage of their website: https://www.chatterbird.org/ or just click below!
Down Down Baby, by Robert Honstein from chatterbird on Vimeo.
A Virtual Release
Timbre Cierpke Debuts Digital Release ‘Gullfoss’
The subject of the arts during quarantine has been written about ad nauseam. I’ve found that these articles seldomly tackle the art or music they are tasked with, but instead serve as a cathartic experience for the writer as they sort through the complex web of emotions that accompanies “finding moments of peace amidst these troubled times.” With this in mind I will restrict my mention of the current pandemic to the following sentence: I listened to the virtual release of Timbre Cierpke’s Gullfoss during the lockdown. Moving on.
Nashville’s own Timbre Cierpke is a composer, conductor, harpist, and songwriter who self-identifies as a Romantic Minimalist. Her recent work Gullfoss was written for Alias Chamber Ensemble, SONUS Choir, and Vox Grata Choir. It originally premiered on February 24th, 2019 at Vanderbilt University. The online release, which was recorded and mixed by John Hill, is available for streaming on Bandcamp here: timbre.bandcamp.com. The track runs just over six and a half minutes.
Gullfoss is a water fall located in the canyon of the Hvítá river in southwest Iceland. Cierpke, upon visiting this natural landmark on a family vacation, felt compelled to write a piece that encapsulated her experience. While I have not visited Iceland personally, I do hold the distinction of having dated two seperate girls who have. One visited the country on a study abroad trip to do scientific research on glaciers. The other visited because her friend found exorbitantly cheap plane tickets and, no doubt, engaged in all manner of debaucherous behavior while exploring her Nordic roots. On both accounts I’ve heard it’s beautiful. This tone poem for string quartet, flute trio, and double choir serves as a convincing third account to the country’s quiet and rugged beauty. In her program notes Cierpke described standing in awe of the flowing waters as the piece began to take shape in her mind. The first section opens with a still but ambiguous chord in the flutes. After a moment female voices begin to add to the tapestry of color. As more notes appear the texture thickens, but the tranquility remains. The sound disperses, and this process is repeated. A quarter of a minute in another brief silence is interrupted by unaccompanied voice, which is followed shortly by flutes and a sudden entrance of the strings. Until this point the female choir has been singing only vowels. The strings initiate the beginning of the text (which was written by the composer and is sung entirely in Icelandic). The text reads:
“I am your heart, You are my blood
Come to me
I am coming, I am falling
Love flows in and out of herself
There is nothing that divides us”
The moment the text enters, Cierpke explains, represents the water at the lowest cascade calling for the water at the top to join it. There is a call and answer section between the female choir and the full choir that culminates near the two minute mark with a grand ensemble moment. This is followed by a rich and satisfying cascade effect in the strings and winds which both evokes the image of the water flooding into the gorge and serves to transition into the next section of the piece. As things settle the mid range of the strings and male voices usher back in a sense of peace. A final pseudo-canon section acts as a bridge to the last moment of the work. The music disappears into the distance.
Cierpke’s talents are on full display in this piece. She certainly has a unique style which comes from her diverse musical background. Elements of folk music, art music, and contemporary music are adeptly woven together toward a clear and concise purpose. The harmonies are pleasing and her proficiency in orchestration is evident.
There is something about waterfalls. Miles and miles of stillness give way to a dramatic change of elevation. The transition can be tough; it can be fast, jarring, and unexpected, but one hopes that after the fall things return to normal. There is a metaphor in there somewhere. I am reminded of the 1968 film Lion in Winter. There is a scene where the main characters are being held prisoner in a dungeon. They hear Henry coming down the stairs to kill them. Richard says: “He’s here. He’ll get no satisfaction out of us. Don’t let him see you beg”. Geoffrey replies “You fool! As if the way one falls down matters!” To which Richard replies “Well, when the fall is all that’s left, it matters a great deal.”
Maybe we all have something to learn from Waterfalls and Timbre Cierkpe’s piece. I encourage you to go online, stream this work, and make a donation if you’re able. It might help you find a moment of peace during these troubled times.
How You Can Help:
It’s Your City, Give a Little Bit Back…
The Federal Stimulus is coming your way any day now. Far be it from me to act as if I know where best to spend your money, especially if you are one of the great number of people in our country that finds themselves temporarily unemployed in this crisis. In fact, the request here is not really for you, but it is for those people who have been lucky enough to keep a job in the current depr recession. For you, the stimulus check is simply a windfall, and it was likely meant to be spent by you in order to keep the economy afloat until we can get out of this nightmare.
Instead of dropping it into your savings account, why not spend that stimulus check on the organizations that enrich our community? Do your part in ensuring that Nashville will continue to have some of the very nice things that it enjoyed up until last month, like a world-class Symphony, Opera and Ballet for starters and some smaller, cutting-edge artistic organizations. Here we will go through a few of the organizations that are struggling, what they are doing and how you might support them:
Nashville Opera
Like most of arts organizations here and throughout the world, the remainder of Nashville Opera’s season is either cancelled or postponed. The much-anticipated performance of Verdi’s Rigoletto has been rescheduled as the finale for next season. They have just recently posted a pair of wonderful children’s operas, Bear Hub/Abrazo de Oso! and Little Red’s Most Unusual Day on their site and youtube. They were also scheduled to reveal next season’s programming on April 11th, but understandably, from pandemics to tornados, things might be behind. Certainly Rigoletto will be part of the season, and given company’s history, some other wonderful productions. Why not subscribe here?
Nashville Ballet
The Ballet has closed down its productions, schools and activities through April 24th. I personally was looking forward to the Modern Masters production, it looked to be wonderful again. Recently, they have placed online “Trees on the Mountain,” a choreographic film set to Rhiannon Giddens’ and Francesco Turrisi’s song, featuring Nashville Ballet’s Company Artists Mollie Sansone, Brett Sjoblom & Owen Thorne. The performance is chillingly beautiful, and resulted from the same collaboration that brought us the Lucy Negro Redux. Give it a watch and then go get a subscription for next season. Here is a teaser, but I think you only need to hear one word: DRACULA!
Nashville Symphony
One of Tennessee’s largest and longest-running non-profit arts organization, the Nashville Symphony continue to buck the national trend by depending on a majority of their income from ticket sales. Typically, this would be a good thing, but when concerts get cancelled, they become vulnerable much more quickly than more grant dependent organizations. Nevertheless, our Symphony is actively working to stay involved with the community offering home educational resources and home performances by their world class musicians. The Director, Maestro Giancarlo Guerrero just hosted an interactive talk on Gustav Mahler’s Tenth Symphony on April 8, and promised to give more in the future. You can subscribe to their exciting 20-21 season here.
Now part of the government stimulus package includes forgivable payroll loans to organizations. However, smaller arts organizations work through hiring their artists through independent contracts. Thus, the need here is even greater. However, this also means that, because these organizations are smaller, you well get a much bigger bang for your buck.
Intersection
In an email, Intersection’s Director Kelly Corcoran emphasized their community role of “relevance, content and meaning during this time.” This month they had a scheduled premiere of a new guitar concerto by Leo Brouwer to be performed by Carlos Barbosa-Lima as well as other works by Tania Leon and Ileana Perez Valazquez in partnership with the Global Education Center, which sadly is postponed until next season. They had been providing weekly teaching at the Juvenile Detention Center and “while the in-person instruction will likely not return this season, they are working on the creation of some mobile learning kits so the teachers can still be paid for that work and continue to engage with the students at the JDC.”
Corcoran continues: “Generally, we have shifted our focus for the remainder of this season to the sharing of collaborative content and the lifting up of composers. We see this as a time where we can still fulfill our mission of creating excitement around new music. We’re sending out weekly “composer peeks” where we feature a composer (all female composers for now) and share some repertoire and encourage our community to dig deeper into these composers and learn more about them.” For digital updates she suggests that you subscribe to the newsletter and follow them on social – that’s where you will find the weekly “composer peeks” which could last up to 40 weeks! (the most recent “peek” includes links to a bio and two pieces by Nashville composer Cristina Spinei). To subscribe to the newsletter and to donate to help this important organization continue its work visit here (newsletter subscription at the bottom of the page).
Chatterbird
Celine Thackston, Director of Chatterbird, informs MCR that they have also had to push concerts to next season, with some performances added to a concert in November 2020 that features a collaboration with Leila Adu on a commission and premiere of a large-scale chamber piece with two vocalists and youth choir. Leila’s November commission is focused on environmental activism and will feature arts & activism workshops to be offered in collaboration with the Oasis Center, Youth Empowerment through Arts & Humanities, and Turnip Green Creative Reuse.
In addition to the loss of ticket sales, Thackston notes that these smaller organizations are also suffering from the “… diversion of potential grant money as funder priorities shift in response to coronavirus” as well as individual donors “…considering the many issues in Nashville that donors are being asked to respond to.” When asked about next season, Thackston was cagey, but enthusiastic, “At this point […] Our next mainstage event is Leila’s concert in November 2020. We have several concerts that we’re planning for the season; we will be touring in support of Hello Gold Mountain; and will have more exciting announcements on the other side of this that we’d love to share when the time is right.” For now she points readers to the trailer for Hello Gold Mountain, but indicates that there will be a new video out in May – the result of a collaborative project with composer Robert Honstein. You can set up a small 5$ monthly donation here…it will feel so much better than another boring cup of coffee (when we are allowed to go to Starbucks again).
New Dialect
Banning Bouldin, Founder and Artistic Director of New Dialect, the contemporary dance collective, is actively working to shift a number of the season’s choreographic residencies online, which will allow for many of the company’s artists to remain engaged for most of the season. Further, they are working for their artists, “We have also been active in our efforts to connect independent contractors with New Dialect to resources available through the CARES Act, the Artist Relief fund, and the SBA. Operating and project-based grant funding from the Tennessee Arts Commission, Metro Arts Commission, and the NEA has helped us provide artists in our collective with additional financial support, as we reimagine the rest of our season’s projects in this new reality.”
While unsure of the future, Bouldin is sure of the collective’s adaptability and innovative strength, remarking that “…collaborative improvisation is the foundation of our artistic practice and spills over into everything we do.” By far the most optimistic statement I’ve heard in the face of uncertainty. Like Chatterbird and Intersection, New Dialect’s rich Social Media presence and content deep website provides a look at what they are up to now, and what to expect in the future. There is also a space to contribute.
Again, I can’t tell you how to spend your stimulus check. I can suggest that these six organizations improve the community around them and enrich our lives through art. They are part of that beautiful network that makes Music City so much more than Broadway and the Country Music Awards. Why not subscribe to a season from the Ballet, Opera, or Orchestra and make a similar donation to one of the smaller groups? I bet you can do it and still have enough left for a fancy dinner when the restaurants reopen. In the meantime, why not a gift card? This way, next season, when we’ve woken from this collective nightmare, you will find yourself more closely connected to our wonderful community—isn’t that connection one of the things we are missing most right now?
On the Internets
Live Music in the Time of COVID-19
As Shelter in Place orders have been enacted in the majority of the United States over the last few weeks, musicians and entertainers of all kinds have suddenly found their livelihoods turned upside down. Nashville is a hub of the entertainment industry, and naturally has high numbers of talented musicians trying to figure out how to manage life and music from quarantine. While it is questionable whether social technology makes life better in a general sense, in this moment, it would seem that it does.
My Facebook feed practically hums with music content: live streaming solo shows from living rooms, live streaming band shows from undisclosed sheds in the greater Nashville area, beautifully spare quarantine music videos. Two Irish pubs in town hosted concerts to empty rooms in order to share tunes with their patrons; “Stay Home” music festivals bring musicians from around the world together on one program. So where do we find this content? What platforms and technology are they using? How can we continue to support musicians in a meaningful way until pubs, clubs, and coffee houses are once again buzzing with songs?
Let’s start with platforms. The most mainstream live streaming platforms are Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube, and in my informal survey, Facebook is the most used, though not necessarily best, platform. Twitch is known as a home for gamers, but many musicians are taking advantage of the streaming service. This article in The Verge by Dani Deahl outlines some of the benefits of Twitch versus other platforms, specifically related to monetization. Concert-specific platforms are also keeping musicians in the virtual spotlight: StageIt has taken over the space Concert Window vacated when it closed down last year, as a service that allows performers to set ticket prices and number of ‘seats,’ creating an exclusive atmosphere for their concerts.
Many musicians are using third party apps to improve the streaming experience on Facebook or Instagram. Vocalist and guitarist Jake Taylor uses MySet, which allows artists to build a set list of all their songs so audience members can request them. MySet is built to allow fans to tip performers; it also encourages fans to pool their tips for a common song, giving it a game-like element. Taylor, who has toured internationally with country acts and regularly fronts a band on Lower Broadway, likes the streamlined system, finding it easy to see requests at a glance and minimizing time spent scrolling through comments and emojis while live. Taylor is also experimenting with Cinamaker, a program that allows the performer to edit multiple camera angles into a single video stream in real time. A self-proclaimed tech geek, Taylor uses a GoPro Hero7 camera and a Bose Compact speaker system to deliver crisp audio and visuals. “The audio and visual quality of the performance are very important to me,” Taylor relays. “I want to limit the distractions people experience while they are watching, to make it feel like I am right there in the room with them. I’m fortunate to already have a lot of the tools on hand to be able to accomplish that reasonably well.”
While some musicians are using high end tech, others are throwing up a cell phone and going for it. Singer/songwriter Rachel Solomon has spent the last several years playing up to six nights a week in various and sundry international piano bars; when Solomon decided to jump into the fray of livestreaming shows she stayed true to her brand and is offering up a twice weekly virtual piano bar via Facebook Live. Solomon acknowledges that cell phone audio quality isn’t ideal (she has plans to upgrade her sound with an iRig interface that allows a microphone cable to plug into a phone), but says the opportunity to stay connected to her audience is worth whatever reservations she might have. “When I return home from my piano bar residencies for “time off,” I have difficulty adjusting to life without regular performances where I get to connect with an audience one-on-one, fulfilling song requests.” With gigs canceled for the next several months, Solomon had a similar feeling of, “Now what?” So she turned to live-streaming, “Not only to subsidize a little bit of missing income, but also to subsidize that missing connection with an audience in my favorite way: taking their song requests.”
Not surprisingly, different groups and organizations have jumped in to streamline the glut of live music offerings. Lower Broadway bands Whiskey, Cash and Roses and Three Lane have started live streaming under the banner Six Foot Serenade, serving up Broadway staples. Six Foot Serenade has started recruiting other musicians to stream under their banner, effectively curating honky tonk content from their living rooms. NPR has a recommended list of national streaming concerts; Now Playing Nashville has a sister list of local performers.
How do live streaming shows stack up in the money department? Most streaming concerts feature a virtual tip jar of some sort, and word on the street is that people are being generous, but streaming doesn’t replace the revenue generated by ticket sales, or even a four-hour shift in a honky tonk. Musicians may look to alternate methods to support their craft, such as Patreon. Patreon offers fans a chance to support their artist of choice for a few dollars a month, and the artist has the opportunity to create special content for their patrons. Tune Supply, a business started by intrepid New York Irish musicians Caitlin Warbelow and Chris Ranney a few days before St. Patrick’s Day, has a slightly different model, catering specifically to traditional Irish music fans. Warbelow and Ranney have a roster of some of the top Irish musicians, singers, and dancers in the country; people can order a set of tunes through the site, and their order is matched with one of the performers who then make a custom video for the recipient. It’s a boutique niche to be sure, but it shows the creativity people are engaging in to continue to make music in the face of isolation. (Full disclosure, I am on the Tune Supply roster. I would, however, write about them even if I weren’t, because they are that cool.)
despite being scared for their health, their futures, and their livelihoods, musicians know that music is healing, both for the player and the listener
Speaking as someone with a busking background, I find the current online atmosphere remarkably similar to a busy Boston subway station: talented people plying their trade to crowd after crowd, trying to catch the eye and ear of the person in a hurry, and entice them to drop some change in a bucket. Most of the musical offerings are delightful: stripped down versions of popular songs, new material written to fit the current moment, and there’s always a musical saw. There’s a lot of heart being put on display. Amongst the various online musician groups I belong to, the sentiment I have seen expressed over and over again is that, despite being scared for their health, their futures, and their livelihoods, musicians know that music is healing, both for the player and the listener. Musicians are live streaming despite their technological or personal insecurities- have you ever tried putting on a full-out show to an empty chair? It’s unnatural and unnerving, especially for people who make their living communicating and reading other people- in order to provide a moment of peace or healing to those who need it. As Taylor said, “The energy from a streaming show is vastly different from the energy of a live show, but we are still bringing happiness to people. We are in this profession because music is in our bones, and in this moment we are being who we are meant to be.”
