So you’ve invited some folks for dinner. The table is set, the food is prepped — now, what about music? Here’s a course-by-course playlist to fit the menu.

Cocktail hour

“The Drinking Song” (from Giuseppe Verdi’s La Traviata): This rollicking waltz-time tune, which appears during a late-night party in the opera’s first act, will set the tone for the evening. Its Italian title, “Libiamo Ne Lieti Calici,” translates as “We Sip From Happy Chalices.” Chalices, wine glasses — it’s all the same.

On to dinner

Quatre Hors D’Ouevres (Gioachino Rossini): As part of the collection of late-career works he called Peches de Viellesse — sins of old age — Rossini composed four odes to the charcuterie board: “Les Radis” (radishes), “Les Anchois” (anchovies), “Les Cornichons” (pickles) and “Le Beurre” (butter). Doesn’t sound too sinful! Take a bite out of the spicy “Les Radis”:

“Now to the Banquet We Press” (from Gilbert & Sullivan’s The Sorcerer): There are eggs and ham! Mustard and cress! Muffins and toast and strawberry jam and some type of bun called a Sally Lunn! If you’re so moved, you can bless the meal as Sir Marmaduke does at the song’s close: “Be happy all — the feast is spread before ye; fear nothing, but enjoy yourselves, I pray!”

The Trout Quintet (Franz Schubert): Instead of the common piano quintet arrangement, Schubert subtracted a violin and added a double bass, adding an element of undulating depth. Listen to the first movement, which evokes a trout dancing through those deep waters to escape the hook that will bring it to the dinner plate.

Palate cleanser

The Love for Three Oranges (Sergey Prokofiev): The zesty satire about a prince sent in search of three oranges — each of which contains a princess who might become his main squeeze — is best-known for this spirited march, to which film composer John Williams might owe a debt of gratitude.

Three Pieces in the Form of a Pear (Erik Satie): This suite for piano four hands (two pianists playing the same piano) was composed in response to a jibe from Claude Debussy that Satie should pay more attention to form. He responded with seven pieces (his little joke) that are alternately sprightly and melancholy, offering slices of several musical moods.

Dessert and coffee

“Tip-Toe to the Cookie Jar” (Florence Price): This short and sweet piano composition was created as a teaching piece for children — but don’t we all love cookies?  The frolicking cadence mimics a little thief looking for some extra dessert. With luck, all the confections will be on the table at this party.

“Coffee Cantata” (J.S. Bach): We’ve reached the end of the dinner and the sated guests are sipping their java to this cantata, technically titled “Schweigt Stille, Plaudert Nicht” (“Be Still, Stop Chattering”). It’s essentially a miniature comedic opera about a disgruntled father trying to get his daughter to stop drinking so much coffee — obviously before the invention of decaf.

Clean-up

“March Past of the Kitchen Utensils” (from Ralph Vaughn Williams’ The Wasps): Did we say the end? Not for the hosts! Tidying up is much easier when you load the dishwasher to a martial beat that segues into a syncopated gallop and back again.

Are you looking for one or two activities to do before winter sets in for the next few months? Visit the Walker Sculpture Garden in Minneapolis to find these 10 pieces of art and listen to classical music. Each piece of music has been picked to highlight themes of each sculpture for a more personalized experience. This article features Sculpture Garden staples, as well as new additions.

Hahn/Cock - Katherina Fritsch (2013/2017)

Michael Torke - BRIGHT BLUE MUSIC

The rooster stands confidently as if it were watching over the Walker day and night. The music’s title conjures the specific hue of blue chosen by Frisch to paint the giant bird. Standing by the sculpture can feel both overwhelming and exhilarating when accompanied by BRIGHT BLUE MUSIC, by Michael Torke.

Spoonbridge and Cherry - Claes Oldenburg (1985-1988)

Leonard Bernstein - Sonata for Clarinet and Piano

Both Spoonbridge and Cherry and pop-music legend Prince fight to earn the title of top Minneapolis icon. The second movement of Bernstein’s sonata begins andantino, then leaps into a tune reminiscent of the West Side Story soundtrack. The jazzy influences of this classical piece go hand in hand with the influences that Prince brought into his songs, and is a perfect song for this iconic sculpture.

LOVE - Robert Indiana (1966-1998)

Leoš Janáček - String Quartet No. 2 (Intimate Letters), Third Movement

During this soft but intense piece, composer Leoš Janáček reflects on his relationship with Kamila Stosslova, a married woman of 38 years whom he was madly in love with. Over the course of their friendship, they sent 700 letters between them. The beauty of the music paints the bronze sculpture. What colors do you see?

Woodrow - Deborah Butterfield (1988)

Franz von Suppe - Light Cavalry Overture

This piece is fit for a horse. The powerful tones mimic the strength that lives in the soul of each animal and makes the sculpture seem to loom over you. Thundering trumpets bring you to a racehorse track and allude to the beating of galloping hooves on the ground. Upbeat, rhythmic and powerful, the effect is perfect for Butterfield’s brass horse as it endures frigid Minnesota winters. 

Untitled - Jim Hodges (2011)

Jennifer Higdon - Piano Trio: Pale Yellow

This piece will force you to slow down and observe the diverse array of textures and finishes that are present in this sculpture. As you move through the stones, you will feel your presence in theirs, while the slow and fast tempos of the music call to the uneven surface of the boulders. 

Reclining Mother and Child - Henry Moore (1960-1961)

Mozart - Piano Sonata No. 16, First Movement

This sculpture called for a classic Mozart piece. The piano harmonizes just as a mother and her child would on a relaxing sunny afternoon. It is easy to enjoy the sculpture, the weather and this timeless piece all at once.

For Whom - Kris Martin (2012)

Mussorgsky - Pictures at an Exhibition: The Great Gate of Kiev

Martin’s bell sways silently every hour. The Basilica of St. Mary can be seen behind “For Whom” and introduces a religious aspect to the art. Mussorgsky fills the space with his piece “The Great Gate of Kiev” and helps you think about what a chiming bell means to you.

Hare on Bell on Portland Stone Piers - Barry Flanagan (1983)

Chopin - Minute Waltz

Chopin's waltz is light and bouncy, reminiscent of a real bunny. The animal’s playfulness is reflected in the piece, brilliantly paired with the still bell. Chopin includes short pauses in his work, which are then interrupted with fast-paced music, alluding to the sporadic energy of a rabbit. The artist created the piece to allow the viewer to imagine the rabbit running and playing. Can you see it more clearly while listening to Chopin?

Adam and Eve - Simone Fattal (2021)

Tchaikovsky - Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture

In Christianity, Adam and Eve are symbols of perseverance and human nature. The story of Romeo and Juliet is just the same. Human error and love are prominent themes in each story, and Tchaikovsky includes sections of his overture that highlight these experiences. Make sure to walk back and forth around this piece to view it from the many angles that it offers!

Irene Hixon Whitney Bridge - Siah Armajan (1988)

Respighi - Pines of Rome, Fourth Movement

This bridge, built by Siah Armajani, is both functional and meditative. Respighi’s Pines of Rome is the perfect piece to accompany the beautiful cityscape that can be seen while walking along the bridge. Grand and powerful, it embodies the spirit of the bridge and the legacy of the lifelong work of Irene Hixon Whitney.

Where classical music is always arriving, with host Steve Seel. Listen live at 10 p.m. central every Wednesday on YourClassical Radio.

On March 17, one of classical music’s more atypical fans, Rascal the Parrot, passed away at the age of 41.

A Timneh African grey parrot, Rascal came to the attention of YourClassical MPR listeners in 2024 when his human companions, Diane and Paul, spoke about Rascal’s discovery of the genre in a special program, Fur, Feathers and Flutes, hosted by Jillene Khan. The program celebrated the love we have for our furry and feathered companions — and their connection to classical music.

During the program, Diane and Paul spoke about how Rascal had been grieving the loss of his companion cockatiels. Diane and Paul had tried several ways to help the despondent Rascal, but to no avail. Then they turned on YourClassical MPR; in particular, a broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera’s production of Carmen.

“He immediately moved to the front of the cage,” Diane recalled, “and he listened for a little bit, and then he started — ‘chirp, chir-oo!’ — you know, the happy, excited bird [sound], and attempting to whistle along to the song.”

Paul said Rascal seemed to respond to different voices, instrumentation and rhythms, adding that what made it particularly special were Rascal’s attempts to mimic and imitate the music he was hearing. “It was like [the Met Opera cast] were part of his flock,” Paul said. “He wasn't just listening, he wasn't just chirping. He was interacting.”

Diane and Paul tell us Timneh parrots can, in some cases, live up to 50 years, and Rascal had turned 41 in January. In the days before his passing, Diane and Paul noticed YourClassical MPR had been “coincidentally playing all of Rascal's favorite tunes: lots of waltzes, Raiders of the Lost Ark, several tunes from Carmen, Mozart's Marriage of Figaro and The Barber of Seville. … He loved it!”

Rascal died peacefully in his sleep on his favorite perch. “He lived a lot longer than most!” Diane and Paul explained in an email to host Jillene Khan. “We will miss him fiercely.”

The Metropolitan Opera makes its productions available to listeners via free live audio streams. Check out the schedule and listen at the Met’s website using the link below.

This Easter, as always, the Messiah oratorio is in full play. But do you want to venture beyond Handel's masterpiece? Then check out these 10 other great works for Holy Week.

The compelling story of the passion, death and resurrection of Christ has been told and retold for centuries. Artists in every genre have put their stamps on the saga, resulting in some of the most striking, gorgeous music in existence, much of it sung.

In the immediate days leading up to Easter, Christians celebrate Holy Week, which traces that story through a series of liturgies (worship services or Masses), each day focusing on one part of the story. Lent, the 40-day season that precedes Easter, is a time of honest reflection and learning. The Triduum (three days) retells the story of the Passion. Maundy Thursday is about the first Holy Communion, ending in the stripping of the altar. Good Friday is about the bearing of the cross and the crucifixion itself. Holy Saturday is a day of quiet reflection on Jesus in the tomb. Easter Sunday, beginning with the Vigil service the night before, celebrates the resurrection.

Whatever your religious experience, sitting with some or all of this music will enrich your spirit.

Maundy Thursday

Carlo Gesualdo: Tenebrae Responses for Maundy Thursday — Both the Gesualdo and the Couperin are written for Tenebrae services, in which candles are extinguished one by one, with prescribed readings and music interspersed. The mood is somber, ending in darkness and, in some traditions, concluding with a loud slam (maybe a hymnal on a pew?) that symbolizes the earthquake at the moment of Jesus' death — followed by the relighting of one candle, representing hope.

Francois de Couperin: Première Leçon de Ténèbres

Good Friday

Arvo Pärt: Passio — The stark, gleaming perfection of this setting and performance of the story of Christ's passion is like a spear through the heart.

Antonio Vivaldi: “Stabat Mater” — Mary at the foot of the cross on which her son hangs — this haunting setting of the 13th-century text captures all the anguish and grief that she must have felt.

Jessye Norman: “Were You There?” — The inimitable Norman uplifts every inch of this well-loved spiritual, sung from the point of view of a witness to the crucifixion of Jesus.

Holy Saturday

Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina: “Sicut Cervus” — This is a sublime setting of Psalm 42, which is sung during the Easter Vigil. Its quiet longing suits the contemplative mood of Holy Saturday: "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God."

Tomas Luis de Victoria: Lamentations for Holy Saturday — Jesus refers to his body as a temple that will be destroyed and rebuilt in three days. The story is an allusion to the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, which was a body blow to all faithful Jews at that time; spiritually, the Jerusalem Temple was God's home among his people. Practically, the sacking of Jerusalem led to the Babylonian Exile. Jesus uses this reference to let people know that his resurrection will change the story of the faithful, pointing away from suffering, toward hope and oneness with God. That transformation is underway on Holy Saturday, as Jesus lays in the tomb.

No. 1

No. 2

No. 3

Easter Sunday

Nikolas Rimsky-Korsakov: Russian Easter Overture — There are biblical allusions built into this piece, but Rimsky-Korsakov's intent was not overtly Christian; rather, he was trying to depict "the legendary and heathen aspect of the holiday, and the transition from the solemnity and mystery of the evening of Passion Saturday to the unbridled pagan-religious celebrations of Easter Sunday morning." Wonderful music!

Gustav Mahler: Resurrection Symphony — Listen for the themes of destruction in the early movements, pointing toward redemption at the end. Magnificent!

Johann Sebastian Bach: Easter Oratorio — And, of course, Bach. Although not as well-known as his St. Matthew and St. John Passions, Bach's oratorio is a glorious celebration of the resurrection.

For the 100th anniversary of George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, Valerie Kahler delves into the fascinating history of this great work and shares an array of performers who interpreted it. They include the original Paul Whiteman-led performance with Gershwin at the piano, Leonard Bernstein performing, Bela Fleck on banjo with a bluegrass band, and a reimagined performance by pianist Lara Downes.

This special airs on YourClassical MPR at 7 p.m. Monday, Feb. 12, on the anniversary of the work’s premiere at Aeolian Hall in New York City in 1924. Or listen now using the player above.

Featured artists

• George Gershwin and the Paul Whiteman Orchestra

• Gershwin and the Columbia Jazz Band, with Michael Tilson Thomas

• Leonard Bernstein and the Columbia Symphony

• Bela Fleck and the Virginia Symphony

• Fleck and a bluegrass band (Rhapsody in Bluegrass)

• Fleck and a blues band (Rhapsody in Blues)

• Lara Downes and the San Francisco Chamber Orchestra (Edmar Colon’s Rhapsody in Blue Reimagined, as featured on New Classical Tracks)

• Sara Davis Buechner (solo piano)

• Stewart Goodyear and Chineke

If you've ever listened to YourClassical's Peaceful Piano or Relax streams, there's a good chance you've heard Erik Satie's Gymnopédies. As a matter of fact, if you've ever listened to any playlist, CD, record, or tape promising "relaxation," there's a good chance you've heard this music.

What, exactly, makes Satie's three piano pieces so entrancing? Why have generations kept coming back to them? It's appealing music, certainly — but it's also unique, in a way that's made it at once highly popular and highly influential.

Among the repertoire's great composers, Satie wasn't exactly a prodigy: when the boy entered the Paris Conservatoire in 1879, his teachers were decidedly unimpressed by his technique and work ethic. He left and came back in 1885 (then age 19), with the same result. Three years later, he published the first of these now-famous piano compositions.

The Gymnopédies may seem the height of refined relaxation today, but in their time they were deeply subversive. They defied classical harmonies and structures, in keeping with the composer's generally iconoclastic spirit.

The pieces' title came from a made-up profession Satie invented for himself when asked what his occupation was. "I am a gymnopedist," he said. The word was highly esoteric — and the following year, Satie gave that title to three short piano pieces. What is a gymnopedist? One who writes the Gymnopédies, of course.

The pieces were accompanied by a piece of verse written by Satie's friend J.P. Contamine de Latour, and it remains unclear whether the poem or the music was written first. The word "gymnopédie" appears in the poem, and had previously been identified by Rousseau as a piece of music to which young Spartans danced naked.

By avoiding any conventional term for the pieces (sonatas, préludes, etc.), Satie cut himself loose from any preexisting restrictions on what, exactly, they would be. The same approach applied to Satie's other pieces, and he experimented with avant-garde compositional touches like directing that his piece Vexations be played 840 times in a row.

Satie argued for French composers to throw off the heavy mantle of German Romanticism, making him a critical influence on the evolution of 20th-century music in his home country and beyond. In 1898, Debussy published an orchestration that brought an impressionistic touch to bear on Satie's music, illustrating a facility for achieving great effect with spare, spacious instrumental color.

John Cage was a passionate fan of Satie's, and through Cage as well as other mid-century figures, Satie helped provide the template for what we now call "ambient music." Cage was particularly drawn to the proto-conceptual aspects of Satie's work: the endless repetitions, the floating structures.

Cage seized on Satie's concept of musique d'ameublement, a French term often translated as "furniture music" — in other words, background music. The idea of music not meant for the foreground wasn't new (Haydn, for example, knew darn well his chamber music wasn't always going to command rapt attention), but Satie deliberately structured some of his compositions to be repetitive and unobtrusive, while substantial enough to have more of a presence than a ticking clock.

The ambient music of Brian Eno, the entire genre of new age music, and vast swaths of electronic music spanning genres owe a debt to Satie. Meanwhile, as Satie's aesthetic was becoming increasingly influential, the Gymnopédies were proliferating through popular culture in their own right. Blood, Sweat & Tears won a Grammy for their 1968 interpretation.

The Gymnopédies also featured in movies including The Royal Tenenbaums and My Dinner with Andre, where the piano pieces soundtracked Wallace Shawn's contemplative cab ride through New York City. Combining historical resonance with a distinctly contemporary flavor, composed by a musician's musician, the Gymnopédies perfectly captured the film's searching and pained, yet sophisticated, tone.

Simple enough for a child, sophisticated enough for a brainy independent film, the Gymnopédies today are music for all occasions — except, ironically, a dance party.

A lot of music that's designed for relaxation — the kind that would be classified as meditation or new age music — is actually quite boring. In an effort to create calming, soothing sounds, this type of music lacks any tension.

By contrast, Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor, which he titled "Quasi una Fantasia (Almost a Fantasy)," is filled with discord — which is exactly what makes it so effective as a piece of music that can help you relax.

I was first introduced to the piece, popularly known as the "Moonlight Sonata," by a friend who was designing the sound for a one-woman show I was creating. My friend suggested the first movement of the sonata for a cathartic moment of the play. Ever since, the Moonlight Sonata has been a piece of music that I've gone back to when I'm feeling anxiety or when I'm going through an emotional period.

That might seem illogical, but let me explain. I liken the experience to one of my favorite relaxation exercises, where you lie on your back and create tension in various points of your body. First you squeeze your toes, then your calves, then your thighs, and so on. Using your muscles to create this momentary tightness helps them to release afterwards. When I can't fall asleep it helps a lot.

The Moonlight Sonata works much in the same way. In the first movement, which is my favorite, the broken minor chords played with the right hand countered with the octaves played with the left evoke a lulling sadness. It creates a melancholic mood that sweeps over you before the melody begins in earnest, with a murmuring, almost desperate ache. There's this sense of relief but also anticipation about what will happen next.

The melody is so simple, but it builds and builds, conjuring imagery that will differ for each person listening to it. The balance between anxiety and composure provides an emotional ride that ultimately provides a sense of release. It reminds you that even during the uncertain moments in life, it's going to be all right in the end.

Perhaps it's the Moonlight Sonata's inherent drama (I mean, hey, it's Beethoven) that the music is used so often in films. Sid and Nancy, Misery, Immortal Beloved, Crimson Tide, and The Pianist are just a few examples. The music provides the perfect element of conflict and resolution to accompany a narrative, especially at an emotional peak.

It is for that reason that I am drawn to this piece of music when I'm feeling upset or unsettled. It helps me reach inside and find that knot of despair or unhappiness and let it escape.

Sheila Regan is a Minneapolis-based writer.

The concert band is a familiar part of many Americans' educational experience. Whether you played in the band, had friends who played, or simply knew of all the kids who headed to the far corner of the school at 10th period, you have probably heard of band and maybe some of its instruments.

But while you might know famous composers' names from throughout classical music history, you might be less familiar with band composers. Here are just a few of the important names in band history.

John Philip Sousa is, for many, the primary encounter with concert bands in the wild. He has been called the March King because he contributed more than 100 marches to the band literature. His The Stars and Stripes Forever is an American classic, and he was a powerful force in creating a concert band culture in the United States through the Marine Band and his touring band. As his music would suggest, Sousa was a fun-loving, patriotic guy. His band also played as a volunteer baseball team, challenging all of the local teams on their tours.

It should be noted that depending on when you participated in band, certain composers' names will stand out as favorites. This list aims to include voices who have impacted or are impacting the tradition of composition for band, and is not to be read as a list of the "top 10" composers. Art is subjective, after all! There are countless composers not mentioned here whose works are educational and longtime favorites for bands worldwide, including popular names in the field such as John Barnes Chance, Alfred Reed, Ron Nelson and Robert W. Smith.

What this list also highlights is an incredible need for diversity in published composers.

Percy Grainger (1882-1961)

This man was truly devoted to the wind band. An Australian by birth, Grainger was instrumental in revitalizing a worldwide interest in British folk music. He's famous for having hiked around Great Britain with an early recording device strapped to his back. He would walk into pubs, buy the locals a round of drinks and ask them to sing a song. He recorded these informal performances and then transcribed them directly onto sheet music, with all of the rhythmic bumps or off-key harmonies that were captured. The resulting collection of folk tunes became the band standard Lincolnshire Posy. His other notable works include Children's March: Over the Hills and Far Away and Colonial Song (aka Australian Up-Country Tune).

Alex Shapiro (1962- )

Alex Shapiro is a seriously accomplished composer whose band works often include electronic audio tracks as a layer of sound otherwise unachievable for an acoustic ensemble. She was trained at Juilliard and the Manhattan School of Music under Ursula Mamlok and John Corigliano, but left the East Coast to score a documentary in California. There, while composing for other films, her passion for activism took off, and she served on the board and as vice president of the Southern California ACLU and as president of the board of directors of the American Composers Forum. She composes for a variety of instrumentations and ensembles, and is passionate about achieving greater composer diversity in the band world.

Karel Husa (1921-2016)

Husa's breadth of work covers everything from ballet to chamber music to vocal and orchestral works, and he won the 1969 Pulitzer Prize for his String Quartet No. 3. But his most famous work was for concert band. Music for Prague 1968 was written after the Czech-born composer listened to a BBC Radio broadcast as the Soviet Union crushed the Prague Spring movement. Husa had since emigrated to the United States, but as he listened to the report of the event, he was deeply moved. Much of his work was influenced by other modern Czech composers, and Prague was only his second work for band, so he decided he would write it the same way he would compose for an orchestra. That decision was revolutionary, and the composer's embrace of the band as an ensemble that could achieve great professional musicality was as important in the 1960s as it is today.

Joseph Schwantner (1943- )

Between Husa and Schwantner, concert band writing became a serious artistic force in the late 20th century. Schwantner's … and the mountains rising nowhere revitalized the possibilities of band tonality and texture. He applied progressive motivic development, aleatoric writing effects and massive use of the percussion section (46 different instruments!) to create a standard for advanced ensembles. His other works for concert band are also highly regarded and include From a Dark Millennium, In evening's stillness … and Luminosity.

Julius Fucik (1872-1916)

Known as the "Bohemian Sousa," Fucik wrote extensively for concert band, which at the time meant a lot of military marches. He was a Czech composer and studied under Antonin Dvorak before becoming the conductor of several regimental bands and later his personal ensemble. In addition to hundreds of marches, he wrote polkas and waltzes. He combined styles, too, as heard in his famous Florentiner March. His other well-known piece is the Entry of the Gladiators, which became synonymous with circus clowns.

David Maslanka (1943-2017)

Maslanka was one of the biggest names in American composition — especially for band. His love of Bach contributed to a sound that is distinctly his own, with massive brass power chords and wild woodwind flurries, as well as simply mournful, poignant solo lines showing up in nearly all of his work. He wrote 10 symphonies, eight of which were for concert band, and more than 40 other pieces for concert band, as well as chamber, orchestral and solo works. Some of his most notable pieces include Mother Earth, Give Us This Day, Symphony No. 4 and countless others. His piece Angel of Mercy earned him an honorary doctorate from St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minn.

Vincent Persichetti (1915-1987)

The works of Persichetti, who has 14 classics in the band repertoire to his name, are often a band student's first introduction to contemporary classical music. As a composition professor at Juilliard, he taught Philip Glass, Toshi Ichiyanagi, Einojuhani Rautavaara and other contemporary composers. He first explored the styles of Bela Bartok, Igor Stravinsky and Aaron Copland before developing his own voice. His Divertimento, Symphony No. 6 and A Lincoln Address are among his most notable works.

Julie Giroux (1961- )

Giroux is an incredibly well-rounded powerhouse composer. Her first work was published when she was only 9, and she hasn't stopped since. An established band composer even in college, she moved to Los Angeles and within three hours was hired by Bill Conti to orchestra his score for the TV miniseries North and South. When she won her first of three Emmys, she was the first woman and youngest person to win the award. She has more than 100 film, video game and TV credits. But for the concert hall, she has composed more works for band than any other instrumentation. She is a highly sought-after guest clinician and advocate for school bands.

Gustav Holst (1874-1934)

Holst's First and Second Suites are staples in the band repertoire. His British background is an audible influence in his work, and he was a part of England's folk-song revival, which influenced a great deal of band music. A trombonist, pianist, music educator and composer, he was a believer in music for the people. Additionally, his is some of the best writing for the euphonium, a typically band-only instrument that he also employed in his most famous orchestral work, The Planets. His daughter, Imogen Holst (1907-1984), became a strong conductor, educator and composer, too, and advocated for her father's work.

Frank Ticheli (1958- )

It is hard to find a band student within the past 20 years who made it through the experience without playing something by Ticheli. His works are influential to young musicians because he treats the young band like a serious musical force. His music pushes students to work on blend, intonation and phrasing in a way that many composers disregard as impossible. His arrangements of American folk songs in concert settings are especially popular in schools. His notable works include Shenandoah, Blue Shades, Cajun Folk Songs,, Vesuvius and Angels in the Architecture.

Bonus: Frederick Fennell (1914-2004)

We would be remiss not to mention the Eastman Wind Ensemble's founder and inventor of the modern wind ensemble. Fennell decided to decrease the concert band's size for a clearer and more controlled sound, reducing each instrument's numbers to its orchestral size (one performer per part) while retaining the full band scoring. To promote the new group, he sent out a call for scores, to which Vincent Persichetti, Ralph Vaughan Williams and Percy Grainger quickly responded. Like his Tanglewood classmate Leonard Bernstein, Fennell is responsible for producing many recordings that have been used as the standard for decades, including a now-legendary series for Mercury Living Presence. He was a sought-after guest conductor for the world's finest bands, including the Dallas Winds, and was the founding director of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, which is generally regarded to be the best band in the world.

Honorable Mention: Paul Hindemith (1895-1963)

Finally, an honorable mention goes to Paul Hindemith. He composed two cornerstone pieces of the band repertoire were composed by Hindemith: his Symphony in B-flat and his Symphonic Metamorphosis, which was an arrangement of his orchestral work based on the music of Carl Maria von Weber.

Ella Harpstead is a former classical intern for American Public Media and Minnesota Public Radio who is majoring in music composition at St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minn. She's also the pep band director and a leader of Musika Nova, and has served as euphonium section leader in the St. Olaf Band and as a director of the school's Valhalla Band.

It’s road trip season, and you might be headed to one of America’s awe-inspiring national parks. It’s no surprise that they’ve also been an inspiration for composers who captured the grandeur and beauty of these natural wonders during their own travels (actual or imaginary). Here’s some music for the journey.

Grand Canyon Suite (Ferde Grofé): Titled Five Pictures of the Grand Canyon when it was composed from 1929 to 1931, its sections (“Sunrise,” “Painted Desert,” “On the Trail,” “Sunset,” “Cloudburst”) reflect a day spent at the immense abyss. “On the Trail” might be the most familiar; listen beginning at the 12:35 mark for the clip-clop that evokes old westerns (and cartoons — Walt Disney was a fan).

America’s National Parks (Wadada Leo Smith): The composer/trumpeter’s six-movement suite from 2016 celebrates parks, including Yellowstone (listen below), Yosemite and Sequoia. One movement is named for musicologist Eileen Southern, whose book The Music of Black Americans has been called “a literary national park” by Smith. In the conceptual spirit of his Ten Freedom Summers, he aimed to challenge the notion of national parks as sacred cathedrals.

“Alligator Alley” (Michael Daugherty): The relentless and immersive motif of this 2003 piece for wind ensemble, name-checking the stretch of highway that crosses Florida’s Everglades National Park, takes hold of you and won’t let go — kind of like an alligator! Do you hear the snap of the creature’s jaws throughout?

Canyon Trilogy (R. Carlos Nakai): The Native American flutist’s homage to his Arizona home, composed in 1989, is meditative and otherworldly, like the natural phenomena it honors. The soothing cadences of his cedar flute are perfect for listening to at a rest stop (or during the massage you’ll need after hiking). Check out “Song for the Morning Star”:

Appalachian Spring (Aaron Copland): This beloved work was commissioned as a ballet “with an American theme” by choreographer Martha Graham in 1944. Copland reportedly was amused to hear his music described as capturing the spirit of the Appalachians, since he wrote the piece before knowing what Graham would christen it. Nevertheless, can’t you picture the Great Smoky Mountains in the trilling woodwinds and the, by turns, folksy and majestic strings?

The Oak (Florence Price): This symphonic tone poem composed in 1943 moves from contemplative to brooding to uneasy, with sonorous passages alternately coming from strings, woodwinds and brass. The dissonant climax (beginning at the 11:20 mark) is a fitting companion piece for admiring the 130-foot oak canopy at Congaree National Park in South Carolina.  

Des Canyons aux Etoiles (Olivier Messiaen): While writing this 12-movement work to commemorate the U.S. Bicentennial, Messiaen was struck by the rich colors of Utah’s rugged Bryce Canyon National Park. He immortalized them in the seventh movement, “Bryce Canyon et les Rochers Rouge-orange [Red-orange Rocks].” Listen to it here.

“Crown of the Continent” (Stephen Lias): The composer has said that this 2015 work, inspired by a monthlong stay at Montana’s Glacier National Park, embraces a Wild West feel, even evoking a locomotive (at the 1:19 mark). The extended xylophone line conjures the cool of a crystalline, glacier-fed lake.

I feel like I'm entering a war zone writing about this topic: being a soprano in a choir. There are so many preconceived notions about sopranos. Let's get those stereotypes out of the way now.

We sopranos don't have ears. We just sing the melody. We don't have brains. We're divas. We always sing sharp. We always sing flat. We have vibrato the size of a donkey. The minute we read harmony the world falls apart. The list goes on and on and on.

It's OK. In their careers, a lot of musicians have met that one soprano who simply ruined it for them. We've all met her. She's ruined it for all of us. Sure, maybe she was oblivious and self-centered.

But maybe she was having a hard day because she was a little tired of leading her superhero life. Yes, sopranos are superheroes: It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a half-woman, half-boy! Wow!

Maybe she had spent the morning practicing Benjamin Britten's "Come Now Aroundel" and Mozart's "Durch Zartlichkeit" in her full, rich, trained, womanly voice for her upcoming audition. But then, on her way to her choral rehearsal, she had to lose 20 years and switch genders to go rehearse William Harris' "Faire is the Heaven."

My favorite story was when I was rehearsing the "Kyrie" from Haydn's Lord Nelson Mass, and I was asked if I could sing it a little more gently? With less vibrato? A little less dramatic?

Maybe she was upset because unlike her colleagues who went out for beers and queso after last night's performance, she had to go home quietly — and starving — because she needed to get up and sound like a boy again the next morning. Or she was bummed because she did have a little hummus after the concert and — dang! — that does give her reflux!

Or maybe she was upset because she overheard a bass or an alto saying, "Sometimes, it's just better if I don't warm up." And she thought about all the things she could have done with her time if she had those 45 minutes (a day) back.

There are many sopranos across the country who can vouch for this. Here are a couple thoughts from two of my favorites.

Stefanie Moore from Baltimore says, "We must have an understanding of choral technique and solo technique and be able to switch back and forth. We have to have the ability to sing the word 'birthday' on a high Q-sharp. The hardest part is stamina. Can you rehearse a pianissimo unison with nine other girls over and over because the tenors are singing the wrong notes and not lose your temper? I mean, who could?"

Kathlene Ritch from Santa Fe echoes my pain: "It's not easy to be the top part. You are so exposed, and you're expected to float, sing like a boy, then change to Verdi size, all within the same piece."

Thankfully, there are many choral directors who fully understand this and who seldom ask this of you. I get to sing for many of them! But the truth is, this reality exists for a reason because we all at times like that sound! Even we sopranos do! Can you imagine Thomas Tallis' "If Ye Love Me" á la Anna Netrebko? There are times when we all cave in after 20 minutes of trying to tune something and just ask if we can sing it straight tone. Please.

Anyway, just give that soprano a day (and maybe a beer and queso after the last concert). She'll remember why her part is awesome.

"We get the melody!" (Stefanie Moore)

"Descants!" (Kathlene Ritch)

"Singing all the best music — except we didn't get 'Mach Dich Mein Herze Rein.' I'll never forgive Bach for that." (Anna Ward, Boston)

It all comes down to this: Can you even imagine a world without the soprano line? "Hey you know that one piece? It goes like — um, well you know — that one part."

Sonja Tengblad is a Minnesota-born soprano who sings full-time in Boston and around the country. She sings with ensembles such as Conspirare, the Yale Choral Artists, the Oregon Bach Festival Chorus, Blue Heron, and the Lorelei Ensemble. Solo highlights include La Fortuna and Giunone in Boston Baroque's production and recording of Monteverdi's Il Ritorno d'Ulisse in Patria, Handel's Samson (Israelitish woman) and Purcell's King Arthur (Cupid), both with the Handel and Haydn Society, and Knussen's Second Symphony with the Boston Modern Orchestra Project. She has performed at Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center with the New York City Chamber Orchestra. Before moving to Boston, she proudly sang with the VocalEssence Ensemble Singers. She is a student of Anton Armstrong and Sig Johnson at St. Olaf College, to both of whom she is forever indebted.

You're cooking dinner with the radio on — maybe chopping carrots for a nice warm stew — and suddenly on YourClassical MPR, you hear the “Hallelujah Chorus.” You put down that sharp knife (please) and you sing along, belting out the soprano line, the melody line, no matter how high and screechy it gets. That melody is pure joy.

Heck, that's what I'd do — and I sing alto. Because the thing is, if you're not listening to a choral piece carefully from the inside, or for the inside, you might hear just the melody and the pretty chords behind it. Sometimes the tenors might soar up to carry the line for a while or offer a countermelody. The basses are bedrock; look down, and there they are, everpresent. Plus, in many spirituals, basses get to preach front-and-center in their badarse bellow; yeah, I'm jealous about that one.

But for lots of choral pieces, many people would have a hard time picking out the alto. Sometimes, I'm shocked to hear a recording of a piece for which I've memorized the alto part, and I can't pick out the line. Yet if the altos were missing, the piece would feel wrong and empty. Often, the alto line is magical, just below consciousness. The alto line is texture, changing light, tension, weather.

I'm not trying to create competition here among the voice parts. Lord knows there are enough soprano jokes to last a lifetime. (OK, but I'll tell one anyway: What's the difference between a soprano diva and a pit bull? Lipstick.) Really, every part is great. Nor am I creating a pity party for altos. I love singing alto. This is praise for the inner line, the line that sits just below your conscious hearing; this is about what it feels like to have that line.

And it feels like nougat. It feels like the warm place inside the engine. It feels like being the secret ingredient, the red-gold saffron you paid $50 a bottle for, and loving the glow.

As an alto, I have a physical sense of being in the middle of a crowd, embraced on all sides. I am part of something. I lean my ear toward the sopranos on my right or the tenors on my left. I feel warm presence all around me.

Cases in point: In Hubert Parry's My Soul There Is a Country, the soprano line is a jewel, a shiny and pretty tune; you should hear the sopranos foremost. But underneath, altos are the suspension and tension in "sentry" and "die here" — and then we are the release; for this brief moment, you can clearly hear us, although not obtrusively. Later, when the sopranos hold a single note, we glide through several notes, not ones you might hear as pitches but rather as movement and momentum. In Dominick Argento's Walden Pond, however, our lines are different. We might be singing the retrograde (the same pattern, backward) of a line someone else just sang; we're idea or thought. Our line is a melody in its own right, but in the context of the larger piece, it's an echo. We're ripples in the pond.

The big reveal is this: Most people I know singing alto in various Minnesota choirs are actually mezzo-sopranos. If you're a singer, it's not that big a surprise. You know that blend in a choir is crucial to making a single instrument of multiple voices. And in the Minnesota choral sound, the high female voices are crystalline and ring as pure as a champagne goblet. So the richer female voices sing alto.

When I came to Minnesota from the East Coast, I confess I hadn't heard of the "Minnesota choral sound." I sang with Fenno Heath and a bit with Robert Shaw; these were big men, great conductors who wanted full sound. I sang first soprano in these groups. So I had a limited sense of what altos did — sang harmony, I guessed. Even now, I don't know what it's like to be an East Coast alto, or even if it's that different from being a Minnesota alto. But I owe the Minnesota choral scene much gratitude for teaching me what a strange and lovely animal the alto line can be.

All the parts have magical qualities, and all the voice parts in some piece or another will experience these things I mention above. But next time you are listening to a choral piece in your kitchen, hold still. See if you can hear the alto line. See if you can feel the alto line.

In your daily life, you might start to see altos. You might recognize an alto because she (or he) is singing a familiar tune, sort of — not badly, just bent through a prism somehow, not quite the notes you know. And altos could be anyone: our neighbors and friends, even family. Even now, altos are walking among us, making life richer, although we might barely know it.

Anna George Meek has published in Poetry, The Kenyon Review, The Yale Review and dozens of other national journals. She is the recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts grant, two Minnesota State Arts Board Fellowships and an Academy of American Poetry Prize. She has also been a finalist for the National Poetry Series (three times), the Minnesota Book Award and the Yale Series of Younger Poets. Her first book, Acts of Contortion, won the Brittingham Prize in Poetry; her collection Engraved won the Snowbound Chapbook Competition. Meek lives with her husband and daughter in the Twin Cities, where she sings professionally with the VocalEssence Ensemble Singers and is a professor of English.

Sociologists speak of class envy, students of grade envy and Freudians of penis envy. But in the choral world (and what is the choral world, after all, but a trembling microcosm of the very world itself?), it's tenor envy that seethes just beneath the surface, erupting now and then in sometimes cruel, other times amusing ways.

Of course, these outbursts never divulge their real motivation. They're always whinily veiled as issues of tenor performance: "The tenors were so loud I couldn't hear myself sing!" Or some variation on the familiar, "Tenors who can't hit the high notes are just dragging the rest of us down to their level," as though slipping intonation were tantamount to slipping into squalor. Over time, any alert tenor (in other words, any tenor) comes to see these critiques for what they really are: unfounded, resentful potshots, oozing green.

Grandiosity is the charge most often leveled against Men Who Sing High Notes. In opera, tenors are duly famous for the grand gesture, whether necro-dramatic (Rodolfo sobbing over Mimì's corpse, Othello strangling Desdemona before killing himself) or chiefly musical (the nine thrilling, bass-shaming high Cs that pepper Ah! Mes Amis! from Daughter of the Regiment).

Choral tenors feel a kinship with their operatic brothers, to be sure, but most would never, ever presume such stage-stealing in an ensemble. Quite the opposite — trust us! Yet this is the very straw man that basses, altos and sopranos routinely prop up when trying to take tenors down a few notches.

"We're a choir," they fume. "This isn't La Scala."

Among sections, the basses are probably the most defensive when it comes to the T in SATB — and one can easily understand why. What's almost touching — or would be touching if it weren't somehow so sad — is how basses inevitably turn their musical differences with tenors, where they usually have no leg to stand on, into questions of relative manhood, where America's NFL-addled culture assures them they'll prevail.

Puh-leez, guys. Low notes don't make you James Bond! Luciano Pavarotti played rugby. Mario Lanza drove a truck. John Vickers was a speed-skater when he wasn't creaming opponents on the football field.

You might suppose that tenors and altos would get on well. We're the middle children in the choir family, after all, and share some delicious overlapping range. But you'd be wrong. Dead wrong. Despite tenors' politic attempts to find common ground, altos, with rare exceptions, snub all such overtures.

Oh, they're gentle about it at first, in that earth-motherish way they cultivate, but a hidden alto trait — bloodthirsty competitiveness — always surfaces. They view tenors as rivals in a turf war. Part of this originates in an abiding misperception that altos have of tenors, whom they regard (as they regard themselves) as fellow keepers of the choir's "inner voices" — the meat of the sandwich; the rich, boozy filling in the chocolate truffle. Naturally, they don't want to yield too much of it.

But tenors — are we really an inner voice? Not that there's anything wrong with inner voices. What would the sopranos and basses do without the altos to mitigate their excesses? But let's face it, tenors command a vista, indeed a dimension, extending far, far beyond the confines of the soprano/bass continuum. If altos would simply understand this, they might save their rancor for the sopranos.

And hello, the sopranos could use some competition. Do we even need to go there? The melodrama, the narcissism, the caterwauling? They're not called called "divas" for nothing.

I heard a soprano dress down an unsuspecting tenor once at a rehearsal break — a sweet young guy who'd had the temerity to ask her out for coffee. After a few token niceties, she went right for the jugular on his golden, dulcet throat. He was "arrogant"; he was "paranoid"; he was "grandiose." This from a soprano! A pall fell on the choir room when at length this solitary tenor, eyes glistening, stood and broke into an unaccompanied Una furtiva lagrima so moving that even the basses' Neanderthal jaws dropped. The soprano flipped her hair back, put her head down and fled the room in shame, vanquished.

Despite what you doubtless think, tenors aren't perfect — they're the first to let you know on those blue, blue moons when they fail their own sublime standards. And they attract imitators and wannabes who sometimes imperil their reputation: baritones who can't quite cut it, contraltos who presume mere vocal range gains them admission into the tenor sanctum. Then, too, there's that problematic tenor subspecies: countertenors.

Now, I've known a few countertenors. They can be nice people. True, conversation with them is sometimes hard work. There's a certain exotic self-regard you need to screen out, much as one requires sunglasses at celebrity parties in L.A. to soften the glare off the pool and guest list. And, in fact, countertenors are a kind of celebrity. Americans have always had an abiding fascination with sideshows.

No, it's not the "tenor" in "countertenor" that grates, but the "counter." Counter this, counter that — nothing's ever good enough for them, until they need their less-vaunted tenor brethren to bail them out of a tight spot. And because countertenors don't think that the laws of time and space — let alone vocal production — apply to them, it seems they're always in a tight spot.

Tenors don't really mind. They're used to bringing everyone else along even as they're being scorned, scapegoated and envied for doing so. They take it for the team. Leadership has its price. Noblesse oblige. But it would be nice every once in a while if someone said thank you.

Since 2019, Noseda has been quietly loaning 17th - 19th century Italian string instruments from his private collection to the NSO. The musicians playing them had no idea that they came from their conductor — until now.

"I'm not saying that good instruments make the orchestra; the orchestra is made by great musicians. But if you give a good driver a good Ferrari, the driver also will drive faster," Noseda told NPR's Leila Fadel in an interview at his office in Washington, D.C.

These seven violins and a viola are worth a total of around five million dollars. It's a major investment for Noseda, who grew up in a modest neighborhood of Milan, where his father was an electrical draftsman and his mother was a homemaker.

From Italy to Tokyo

Noseda got the idea of purchasing and donating instruments a few years ago. While guest-conducting Tokyo's NHK Symphony Orchestra in 2010, he noticed that many of the musicians were playing old Italian instruments.

"The orchestra had a certain sound, very disciplined because of the Japanese culture, but also warm in a way given by the instruments," he recalled. "I was shocked by this experience."

The following year, Noseda — who is a piano player, not a string player — purchased a violin and lent it to the concertmaster, or lead violinist, of the Teatro Regio Terino he directed at the time.

"I immediately realized that it made a difference," Noseda said.

That violin, made in 1725 by Santo Serafin in Venice, is now being played by Marissa Regni, the NSO's principal second violin.

"The instrument is like a vessel to get the sound out. So if you've got a great instrument, you can really think about the tone, quality, all the most important things," Regni said. "If you don't have a great vessel.... it's like you're straining your voice, like you think you're being louder, it's not as beautiful a tone."

Noseda's loan program gives right of first refusal to the lead players, or principals, of each applicable orchestra section, after which other musicians can obtain the instruments on a rotating two-year loan.

"This instrument is much more mellow, round sound, very silvery on the E string but I feel like the G string is very chocolaty," Regni said, as she demonstrated on the violin.

Changing the orchestra's sound

But how do you do you go about changing the sound of a symphony orchestra?

"The most important thing is when you work day by day, inspiring the way to make the orchestra interact... create an expanded chamber music where everybody knows what to listen for, how to cooperate," Noseda explained.

Both he and Marissa Regni, the NSO's principal second violin, pointed to the importance of being surrounded by great musicians.

"If you hear a beautiful sound near you... you want to sound as beautiful as that person," is how Regni put it. "It's not I want to be as good as them. It's because you want to create this incredible sound. In order to do that, you all have to do it right. You all have to have that goal."

Crucial role of instrument loans

Few classical musicians can afford valuable instruments made by esteemed luthiers like Antonio Stradivari (ca. 1644-1737). That's where foundations and wealthy benefactors come in. Noseda's instruments range from a violin made by Francesco Ruggeri in 1686 to an 1830 violin made by Giovanni Francesco Pressenda. Noseda also owns two cellos and intends to soon bring one to the NSO. The other is on loan to a young cellist in Italy.

"At a certain point, you feel the real necessity to give back," Noseda told NPR's Leila Fadel. The instruments, he added, "will live longer than me. But now I think it's important that they will inspire people in the orchestra to also deliver a better sound world."

But at the beating heart of the orchestra remain the dozens of living souls who bring the ensemble to life.

"Once a very close friend of mine conductor told me that it's not important that you become a star," Noseda recalled. "As a music director, it is even more important if you are surrounded by stars. Because all the light they produce will make you brighter."

Copyright 2023 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

Composer Anthony Davis has done the seemingly impossible yet necessary work of creating modern operas that speak to the struggles of Black Americans and other marginalized communities. From his Pulitzer Prize-winning Central Park Five to the spiritual Wakonda’s Dream, he has earned a place as one of America’s leading composers. Learn about four of Davis’ operas that share the sometimes violent experiences of minorities in America.

‘X, The Life and Times of Malcolm X’

X, The Life and Times of Malcolm X debuted in 1986 and is based on the autobiography of Malcolm X. Playwright and author Amiri Baraka wrote the libretto.

The three acts depict various stages of Malcolm X's life, from his childhood to his rise as a civil-rights leader and his assassination in 1965. The first act focuses on his childhood, including his father's murder, his mother's institutionalization and his time in prison, where he joins the Nation of Islam.

The second act follows Malcolm X through his time as a minister in the Nation of Islam, his eventual split from the organization and his journey to Mecca, where he has a spiritual awakening and a new understanding of race and identity.

In the final act, Malcolm X deals with the final year of his life, his breakup with the Nation of Islam and his murder. A stirring chorus demanding justice for Malcolm X and ending bigotry and oppression marks the opera's conclusion.

It’s significant in the history of American opera because it marks a crucial turning point in creating a uniquely American operatic tradition that captures the complexity and variety of American life. Jazz, gospel and other African American musical genres are incorporated into the opera, bridging the divide between traditional European operatic forms and contemporary American popular music and resulting in a new sound that is distinctly American.

It’s also significant for examining racial, ethnic and social justice issues vital to Malcolm X's life and impact. A more profound comprehension of Malcolm X's life, legacy and place in American history is made possible by the opera's depiction of him as a complex, multifaceted figure who is both a political radical and a spiritual seeker.

It continues to impact audiences today by serving as a constant reminder of the continuing fight for justice and equality in American society.

‘Amistad’

With a libretto written by playwright and author Thulani Davis, Amistad tells the story of the slave revolt that created a pivotal moment in the history of the trans-Atlantic slave trade.

In the opera, a collection of West African slaves was transported to America in 1839 on the Amistad, a Spanish ship. The captives overthrow their masters and seize control of the ship, but they are ultimately apprehended by American sailors and tried in New Haven, Connecticut. The dispute over the slaves' future escalates into a significant judicial and political conflict between abolitionists and slaveowners.

With regard to the history of slavery and the fight for justice, the opera examines several topics, such as the brutality of the slave trade, the strength of resistance and rebellion, and the difficulties of the legal system. The opera dives into the political conflicts surrounding the issue of slavery in mid-19th-century America and the cultural differences between Africans and Americans.

The significance of Amistad comes from its function as a piece of art that engages and informs viewers about the background of slavery and its continuing influence on American culture. Davis and Thulani Davis produced a potent and profoundly moving opera that tells the tale of the Amistad rebellion and illuminate a dark chapter in American history. Additionally reflecting the diversity of Black American culture and history, the opera includes a diverse ensemble of actors and uses a variety of musical genres, such as opera, gospel and African rhythms.

Amistad has been praised for its social and political significance and artistic value. The opera has been presented in various settings, such as community centers and schools. It has served as an educational resource to help educate young people about the history of slavery and its effects on American society. Because it brings together performers and viewers from various backgrounds to discuss issues of race, identity and justice, the opera has also been acknowledged for fostering conversation and understanding across cultural and racial divisions.

Ultimately, the opera impacts audiences because it raises awareness of the nation's continuing fight for freedom and justice.

“They Come As If From the Heavens” from Amistad

‘The Central Park Five’

With a text by Richard Wesley, this Davis opera concerns the Central Park Five, a group of Black and Latino teenagers who were wrongfully convicted of a brutal rape in New York City's Central Park in 1989.

The opera, which made its world debut in 2019, recounts the tale of the five teenagers who were wrongfully accused of the crime and coerced into confessing — Antron McCray, Kevin Richardson, Yusef Salaam, Raymond Santana and Korey Wise. The boys were found guilty and given years in prison despite little to no proof against them. The opera chronicles their harsh journey through the criminal justice system, including the racism and mistreatment they endured while incarcerated.

The Central Park Five is significant because of how forcefully it explores the concepts of racial inequity and the unfairness of the criminal justice system. The opera sheds light on how the criminal justice system has been used as a weapon of oppression and how law enforcement has unjustly targeted and persecuted Black and Latino communities.

The social and political significance of The Central Park Five has been acknowledged in addition to its artistic value. The opera has been presented in various settings, including schools and community centers, where it has been employed as a teaching resource to inform young people about the past of racial injustice and the significance of fighting for equality and justice.

The opera has become increasingly relevant to audiences today because of the continued killings of unarmed Black men and the value of holding those in positions of authority responsible for their deeds. It will be presented by the Metropolitan Opera in its 2023-24 season.

Davis explains the genesis of The Central Park Five

‘Wakonda's Dream’

Wakonda's Dream is an adaptation of Yusef Komunyakaa's play of the same name. It is about Louis, a Native American soldier who struggles to reintegrate into his society after serving in the Vietnam War. He suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and is troubled by his memories of the war. He finds comfort in a recurrent dream where he encounters Wakonda, a strong spirit who supports him as he faces difficulties in real life.

The community that Louis lives in deals with several difficulties as the opera progresses, such as destitution, prejudice and violence. Louis seeks direction from his Wakonda dream throughout it all, finding courage and optimism in the spirit's knowledge and kindness.

The significance of the opera is found in its insightful investigation of issues relating to trauma, recovery and national identity. It provides a complex and nuanced portrayal of the struggles encountered by Native American communities more generally and the experiences of Native American soldiers returning from battle.

Here are half a dozen patriotic marches you should know, performed by various military bands.

Henry Fillmore: Americans We — U.S. Air Force Heritage of America Band

Americans We is a prime example of a fast-tempo circus march. Dedicated "to all of us," this march has become a staple in band literature. Originally written and named for the Cincinnati Zoo, its eventual title, Americans We, gives rise to the patriotic feeling that is commonly associated with the march. Listen for the resemblance to John Philip Sousa's The Stars and Stripes Forever.

John Philip Sousa: The Black Horse Troop — U.S. Air Force Band

The only march by Sousa on the list is dedicated to the mounted troops of the Cleveland National Guard. The title is inspired by the composer's love for horses and the exclusive use of black ones for the troop. Sousa marched with the mounted unit for President Andrew Garfield's funeral while leading the U.S Marine Band. Listen for the 6/8 meter, which is supposed to resemble the galloping of the horses.

Edwin Franko Goldman: The Chimes of Liberty — U.S. Army Band

Considered one of the most lively and dynamic marches, The Chimes of Liberty was written in 1922 to commemorate the Washington Conference for the Limitation of Armaments. It is often considered America's greatest march not written by Sousa and has a piccolo part more distinctive than the one in The Stars and Strips Forever. Listen for the chimes and the piccolo.

Edwin Bagley: National Emblem — "The President's Own" U.S Marine Band

Coined as one of the top three street marches by Sousa, National Emblem, composed by Edwin Bagley, is widely heard by military members even if they don't know it. Although the march wasn't written for the Armed Forces, the trio section is used in military ceremonies for the entry of the official party. Listen for the first few notes of The Star-Spangled Banner given to the euphonium!

Francis H. Brown: N.Y. Light Guard Quickstep — U.S. Coast Guard Band

This piece is one of the earlier examples of an American march. It was composed in 1839 during a time when military bands played mostly marches from England. It was written as a drill piece for the N.Y Light Guard, which is New York's oldest military unit (now known as the 71st Infantry Regiment). Listen for a pace of 120 beats per minute to indicate the left-footed British quickstep.

Alton Adams: Spirit of the U.S.N. — U.S. Navy Band

In 1917, Alton Augustus Adams Sr. became the first Black bandmaster in the U.S. Navy. During his time in the Navy, he also composed, using his music to help bridge the racial divide in the organization. His march The Spirit of the U.S.N. helps evoke the forward momentum of racial harmony in the Armed Forces. Listen for the overall structure that is indicative of pride for one's branch of service.

During the 19th century, Italian opera was very popular in Mexico. Italian companies traveled there to perform operas by Donizetti and Bellini as well as the latest works by other composers. The influence of Italian opera helped to create Mexico's ranchera genre.

"I can imagine Italians coming to Mexico and saying, yeah, listen to me singing O Sole Mío, says Mexican tenor Javier Camarena. "And I can imagine Mexicans, the composers saying 'Okay, so let's sing our music like that.'"

Camarena says the connection between the two seemingly different singing styles makes sense. Mexican composers wrote songs for educated singers during the first half of the 20th century.

Recently, during one of my trips to Mexico City, I went to Plaza Garibaldi's bar "El Tenampa," a sort of cathedral of Mexican popular music. The walls are covered by murals with famous singers of rancheras: Pedro Infante, José Alfredo Jiménez, Chavela Vargas and Juan Gabriel.

Singer Alvaro Hurtado is doing the rounds with a mariachi. During a break, I ask him about the connection between Mexican rancheras and Italian opera. Hurtado says he doesn't know much about opera but Luciano Pavarotti is his favorite singer. "If Pavarotti sang Mexican rancheras, he would have been very successful, like Jorge Negrete," he says.

Negrete studied bel canto and started his career not singing rancheras, but operatic works. Negrete's story is not unusual. Ethnomusicologist Dan Sheehy points out that in the early 1800s, opera companies and their star singers traveled from Italy to perform across the country.

"It was like a parade, people would welcome them in the streets of Mexico City," he says. "The word would spread and people would come out in droves and watch the carrozas, the floats or the wagons, carrying the opera singers and all the hangers-on, all the groupies of the day, they'd follow the arrival of the Italian opera singer, whether they'd be a soprano, or a baritone or whatever."

Back then, Italian opera in Mexico was more grassroots. People from all walks of life went to the shows. Eventually, opera became a high-priced form of entertainment, accessible only to the elite.

In the 1930s, the new popular music began spreading through the radio and record companies promoted it around the country and beyond the borders of Mexico. While 'canción ranchera' was emerging as one of Mexico's popular song styles, a bigger launching pad for mariachi music and the singers of 'canción ranchera' was taking off: The Golden Age of Mexican cinema.

Sheehy says most of the singers in films who represented and idealized Mexican country music on the big screen, were from the city. Many of them studied the singing style of Italian opera. "And they became actors. And so you look at all the bios of almost all the great 'música ranchera' singers and composers to a certain extent, and actors, if you list what their profession was: songwriter, singer, actors. It went hand in hand with the movie industry in Mexico."

Aída Cuevas is considered the last of the great ranchera singers of her generation. A few years ago, Cuevas worked with an opera singer who said this to her: "I don't understand how the singers of 'rancheras' can sing. I don't know how you don't end up hoarse, without a voice. What you do is a super-human effort."

Camarena says there's something special Mexican singers have. "And that is what makes it difficult to sing Mexican music and rancheras because they need the Mexican soul."

Copyright 2022 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

A century ago, Maria Grever was a maverick in the male-dominated film world. She had studied with French composer Claude Debussy before returning to her native Mexico where she wrote boleros that were wildly popular throughout Latin America. Then, Grever composed songs for movies in the 1920s, '30s and '40s.

In the 1944 MGM musical Bathing Beauty, Colombian baritone Carlos Ramírez sings Grever's song Te Quiero Dijiste (accompanied by Xavier Cugat and his orchestra) to actress Esther Williams just before she dives into a swimming pool. The song was translated to Magic is the Moonlight.

Grever wrote another song, Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado, about missing her husband during the Mexican revolution. Translated to What a Difference a Day Makes, the song became a staple of Hollywood films (Dinah Washington won a Grammy award for her R&B rendition in 1959).

Renowned Mexican composer and musician Agustin Lara's first American film composition was for the 1938 picture Tropic Holiday.

"The film itself is about a Hollywood screenwriter who's looking for inspiration in Mexico. Then, the film features music by a Mexican who'd come to Hollywood to record it," says professor Josh Kun, interim dean of the USC Thornton School of Music.

Kun says film studios turned to successful Latin American composers like Lara and Grever for authenticity. But more often, they would appropriate generic "Latin sounds" and rhythms-- "either making Latin America feel safe to Americans, make it seem romantic, or increasingly, make it seem dangerous."

Kun says then and now, films would often use tropical music for any Latin American setting. "This idea that there would be one sound was a problem then and frankly, is a problem now. That one set of sounds becomes a sonic stereotype."

Even so, there were Latino film composers who innovated soundtracks. For example, Argentine-American composer Lalo Schifrin created one of the most iconic 1960s TV themes ever for the show Mission Impossible.

Schifrin has blended jazz and Latin American rhythms and sounds for more than 100 film and TV shows. The 91-year-old composer once described to NPR his ideal musical style: "There's an imaginary world in which a street of Vienna intersects an avenue from New York. And in that corner, there is a tavern. And in the tavern, there is a piano, and there you can encounter Gustav Mahler, Beethoven and Dizzy Gillespie, and they are exchanging ideas. It's a gigantic jam session."

Gustavo Santaolalla was also born in Buenos Aires, 19 years after Schifrin. He pioneered the fusion of rock and Latin American folk with his group Arco Iris, he modernized tango with his group Bajofondo, and he produced Latin alternative and rock en español hits for Maldita Vecindad, Molotov, Café Tacuba, Julieta Venegas and Juanes.

Santaolalla also composed music for films such as Amores Perros and The Motorcycle Diaries. He won two Oscar awards for scoring the 2005 film Brokeback Mountain and the 2006 film Babel.

Santaolalla continues to create the sonic fabric of films and shows, often collaborating with his musical partner Aníbal Kerpel and filmmaker Alejandro González Iñárritu.

"There's definitely that influence that makes me who I am and... connects with my Latino heritage," he told NPR in 2021. "It is Latin music because it's made by a Latino. But it's universal music. You can say exactly the same thing about Iñárritu's films."

When filmmaker Iñárritu made his Oscar-winning film Birdman in 2014, he asked Mexican jazz drummer Antonio Sanchez to score it.

"It was pretty much improvised," says Sanchez. "It was the kind of score that had never been done before, you know just a full drum set score."

Sanchez grew up in Mexico City, the grandson of Ignacio López Tarso, a famous actor from Mexico's Golden Age of cinema. He says working on films has opened up creativity in his musical projects, and he credits Iñárritu with developing a new style of film composition.

"What Iñárritu wanted me to do was just to be myself, you know, just to improvise, to react, to use my instincts and just imprint something in real-time."

Of course, no story about Latino film composers would be complete without Nuyorican Lin-Manuel Miranda. Like his Broadway musicals, his movies, including In The Heights, incorporate Hip Hop, Latin and musical theater styles.

Miranda's music was featured in the recent Dosney remake of The Little Mermaid, hot off the heels of writing for 2021’s Oscar-winning animated film Encanto.

For Disney's Encanto, he traveled to Colombia to find inspiration in the diverse musical styles of the country.

Germaine Franco's work on Encanto led her to become the first Latina nominated for Best Original Score at the Oscars. She says for one scene, she wrote an Afro-Colombian chant and gathered an ensemble of women to perform it for the film.

"I wanted to honor the Afro-Colombian community," she says. "People forget how amazing it is that they managed to escape from the colonies and have their own communities. The women there sing and play and chant to a special marimba you can only get there. I had one built and I had it shipped here."

For Coco, Pixar's animated love letter to Mexico, Franco arranged and orchestrated the score. She brought in familiar elements from her childhood along the El Paso and Juárez border and added the sounds of folkloric dancing. Franco also produced all the recording sessions, with 50 master musicians from Mexico.

"Knowing that there's this connection between my ancestor's Mexican music that goes back, you know, hundreds of years," she says. "There we were, and I was saying to them, 'put the sound that you want, what it should be, not what I want. It should be your sound.'"

Producer Camilo Lara, from the group Mexican Institute of Sound, also worked on Coco. "I even have a cameo in the movie. I'm the deejay at the party," he says from his home recording studio in Mexico City. "It was fun to be portrayed as a skeleton."

Lara sampled hip hop and electronic music to create loops and beats for films like Y Tu Mamá También and Thor. And he produced a song by Santa Fe Klan for the new film Black Panther: Wakanda Forever.

Lara says he was inspired by the midcentury lounge-meets-Latin music of Mexican composer Juan Garcia Esquivel. And he's grateful to all those before him. "I'm thanking Maria Grever, Lalo Schifrin and of course, Gustavo Santaolalla and a bunch of amazing people that did the hard work in Hollywood to let other Latino composers to have a chance," he says. "All of them are my idols."

Copyright 2022 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

Taruskin's reputation accompanied him into that 2004 interview with Performance Today host Fred Child. The author was known for sending inflammatory letters to critics, but those of us who produced what would become a short five-part radio series were pleasantly surprised to find him as tame as a kitty cat. Behind the microphone, he was generous with his time, unflustered by any question, whether it be a softball he could hit out of the park with his magisterial command of music history, or a hard-nosed confrontation of his sometimes radical ideas.

I thought of that moment while reading obituaries for Taruskin. In The New York Times, critic Alex Ross is quoted describing him as having been "The most important living writer on classical music," while Tim Page, writing in The Washington Post, characterized him as "a music scholar and historian of wide influence and spectacular fecundity."

In the end, you can debate the superlatives lauded on him and you can debate his rebellious positions on everything from historically "authentic" performances of old music to composers like Elliott Carter, Sergei Prokofiev and John Adams. But the important thing about Taruskin is that he made you want to debate in the first place. He made you care about classical music, an art form that, by the time his giant book was published in 2005, had already become marginalized in American culture.

Listen to any one of these interviews below, first broadcast in late 2004, and you'll get a glimpse of the Grand Canyon-sized scope of knowledge that Taruskin had at his fingertips, surveying 1000 years of music history. He firmly believed that no music, no composer could be separated from their socio-political circumstances, and that our vision of the past is always clouded by looking through the lens of present.

Chant & Early Church Music

Right from the beginning, Taruskin makes an important point about documenting a millennium of music history: Its development is not linear. There's no perfectly clean horizontal timeline to follow. And the historical record is not a complete representation of the music of any particular moment. A good example can be found in what we call "early music." Just because Gregorian chant was the first style of music written down, doesn't mean that other, more sophisticated music didn't exist at the same time or even before. There may have been secular, 4-part harmony songs in the 9th century, Taruskin says, but it would have likely sounded different than what we learn in school today. "But there was such a thing as harmony and there was such a thing as accompanied melody," he adds. "No doubt about that."

The Class of 1685

One of Taruskin's most controversial viewpoints is his criticism of the practice of performing old music on instruments of the era (or copies of them) to present a so-called "historically authentic" performance. Taruskin doesn't think it's possible – especially when it comes to the revival of Baroque-era operas by George Frideric Handel, and others, which starred virtuosic castrati (castrated men) in the lead roles. "I think that what we are hearing [today] is a pale reflection of what Handel's audience heard," Taruskin says, "and I've never been able to take too serious an interest in the revival of Baroque opera for that reason."

Nationalism in Music

Moving on to the 19th century, Taruskin makes the point that music and composers cannot be separated from their national and political circumstances. He lays out the trend of nationalism in music, which he said was a reaction to the dominance of Germanic music. As more and more composers from France, Spain, Russia and Slavic countries began writing music tied to their homelands, Taruskin says nationalism became trendy. "It's a paradox to put it this way," he says, "but nationalism was a universal trait in European music. All countries were valuing their unique qualities and trying to foreground them in their art."

America Between the Wars

What is American classical music? Is there a so-called great American symphony or opera? "America doesn't have a single ethnic stock," Taruskin says. When the Czech composer Antonín Dvořák came to the States in 1894, he told American composers to look to their own Black and Native American music to create a truly American sound. "It was well meant advice, but I don't think it was good advice," Taruskin argues. "So the American composers who were contemporaneous with Dvořák found it rather odd that they would be asked to write in a style that was not their own ethnic style. You see, to put on Blackface, you might say, or to wear feathers. That's how they would regard Dvořák's advice."

The 20th & 21st Centuries

Another example of what made Taruskin controversial was that he appeared to take pot shots at composers, even ones very much alive like John Adams, with whom he once sparred in the press over Adams' opera The Death of Klinghoffer.

Here Taruskin talks about the influences governments, propaganda and the Cold War had on composers and the challenging music they wrote. The atonal music of Arnold Schoenberg in the early 20th century, he believes, couldn't be coopted to fit any agenda, "And so it became a kind of symbol in the minds of many for real freedom." A composer like Adams, on the other hand, represents for Taruskin, someone "responding to a consumer demand" with his news-driven operas like Nixon in China and Dr. Atomic. But that doesn't mean, Taruskin adds, that Adams and others are "lessening their integrity as composers."

Copyright 2022 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

American composer George Walker died in 2018 at 96, but it’s never too late to learn about his amazing legacy and contributions to American music.

One of the first things people remember about Walker is that he was the first Black American to be awarded the Pulitzer Prize in music for his composition Lilacs. While this is no small achievement, the legacy of Walker is richer and more astonishing than most people know. 

After starting piano at 5, Walker enjoyed and practiced music during his youth that contributed to him receiving a scholarship to Ohio’s Oberlin College, where he studied piano. After completing his undergraduate studies there, he became the first Black graduate of the Curtis Institute of Music, leaving with diplomas in piano and composition. His teacher was Rosario Scalero, who also taught Samuel Barber.

Walker would go on to have many other firsts, including becoming the first Black instrumentalist to perform with the Philadelphia Orchestra; the first Black instrumentalist to sign with a major management firm, National Concert Artists; and the first Black recipient of a doctoral degree from the Eastman School of Music.  

Here’s a movement from his Sinfonia No. 3.

Sinfonia No. 3: quarter note = 76

Walker loved mythology, and many of his works reflect that. Here are two works, Icarus in Orbit and the first three parts from his song cycle Orpheus, that display his immense talent in his ability to re-create written stories with music. Both works vividly and passionately tell their stories in a way that only Walker could have created.

Icarus in Orbit 

Orpheus

Part I

Part II

Part III

Over the span of his career, he composed more than 90 pieces. Many are solo piano or large orchestral pieces, but a few are concertos. He wrote for the cello, violin and organ, but one of his most performed concertos is for the trombone.

Concerto for Trombone and Orchestra: I. Allegro

Sinfonia No. 5 (Visions) was Walker’s last work. It was written in response to the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church shooting that happened in 2015 in Charleston, South Carolina. It shows that no matter where he was in his career, he was deeply connected to Black Americans throughout the country and continued to stay relevant to fight for racial justice and equity.

Sinfonia No. 5 (Visions)

Walker was unyielding when it came to conforming to a specific style by always drawing from his diverse knowledge and music-filled upbringing. He incorporated styles that included jazz, popular music, 12-tone, spirituals and folk songs to make a sound that was all his own.

Musicologist Eileen Southern said in her groundbreaking work The Music of Black Americans: “His mature style was distinctive for its fusion of contemporary elements, including surrealism, with a predilection for classical forms — this combination with rhythmic complexities and concern for melodic expressiveness. His music reflects the influence of jazz and Black folk idioms, sometimes obviously, sometimes subtly.” 

Ever since Beethoven's iconic Ninth Symphony premiered May 7, 1824 at the Theater am Kärntnertor in Vienna, it has remained arguably the most popular composition in the classical music canon, thanks largely to its final movement, the "Ode to Joy," with a text by poet Friedrich Schiller.

But Beethoven's music has become something much more than popular. With its expansive length, mold-busting design, and the inclusion of solo singers and chorus, he was proposing nothing less than a philosophy for humanity.

Beethoven, the composer-philosopher, was a man who suffered more than we can imagine and yet he retained optimism and a sense of hope that we can admire and even envy. He believed wholeheartedly in the goodness of humanity, the power of love, joy, unity, tolerance and peace to overcome and endure.

I am convinced that we inherently know and feel these aspirations when we hear Beethoven's Ninth and are drawn to it both musically and morally.

Beethoven's Ninth has become synonymous with many important political and social events over the course of the last century. In 1972, the Council of Europe adopted the prelude to the "Ode to Joy" as the Anthem of Europe to celebrate the shared values of the member states and express the ideals of a united Europe: freedom, peace, and solidarity. In 1985, European Union leaders chose it as the official anthem of the E.U.

Outside Europe, the "Ode" has been tapped as a protest anthem from demonstrators in Chile, who sang a version of the famous tune during protests against the Pinochet dictatorship, to the more recent Occupy Wall Street–driven gatherings in Madrid.

During the 1989 Christmas holiday, my teacher and mentor, Leonard Bernstein, conducted a version of Beethoven's Ninth at the Brandenburg Gate to celebrate the fall of the Berlin Wall where he changed Schiller's word "freude" (joy) to "freiheit" (freedom).

These important adoptions and adaptations of Beethoven's Ninth inspired me to create a new project, "All Together: A Global Ode to Joy," marking the 250th anniversary of Beethoven's birth in 2020.

The fact that this unique composition has inspired the imagination, hopes and aspirations of so many people from such diverse backgrounds led me to imagine a 21st-century rendering of the symphony – one that could bring to life the journey of the entire piece and capture the essence of the specific community where it is performed.

In partnership with Carnegie Hall, I will bring this project to six continents over the next year. We'll bring new texts to each location, plus added music – as preludes and interludes – reflective of that particular region to connect and amplify the narrative.

In Baltimore, the new text has been created by rap artist, Wordsmith. For our final performance at Carnegie Hall, former U.S. Poet Laureate, Tracey K. Smith will do the honors. In Africa, the new text will be in Zulu; in New Zealand in the te reo Māori language but, above all, Beethoven's (and Schiller's) themes of unity, tolerance, equality, love and joy will shine through to touch new generations.

It is exactly this universality makes the "Ode to Joy" so special in expressing our desire for happiness and brotherhood. From the Americas to Europe, Asia and the rest of the world, Beethoven's music and Schiller's words have been the carriers of a universal message that transcends the boundaries of time and culture.

This message, filled with optimism and a fundamental faith in what is best in humanity, could not be more relevant today, when we see far too much disorder, misunderstanding and extremism.

Copyright 2021 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

Tania León, the 78-year-old Cuban-born composer, won the Pulitzer Prize in Music on Friday for her orchestral work Stride. The Pulitzer jury described the 15-minute piece as a "musical journey full of surprise, with powerful brass and rhythmic motifs that incorporate Black music traditions from the U.S. and the Caribbean into a Western orchestral fabric." The two other finalists were Place, by Ted Hearne and Data Lords by Maria Schneider, both recordings.

Stride received its world premiere by the New York Philharmonic at Lincoln Center Feb. 13, 2020. The music was born out of Project 19, an ambitious commissioning program where 19 women composers were chosen to write music to mark the centennial of the ratification of the 19th Amendment, which gave women the right to vote. León's inspiration was Susan B. Anthony, the women's rights activist and a prominent leader in the suffrage movement.

Reached by telephone Friday afternoon at her home in Nyack, N.Y., León said she was the first musician in her poor Havana family. Her success was a dream of her mother and, especially, her grandmother, who suspected that she was interested in music. "They created a dream and I grabbed the dream and went into the world, and here I am," León said.

The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

Stride was a commission, and the theme was the women's suffrage movement. You were interested in Susan B. Anthony.

It was very inspiring to me because I didn't know that much about that movement. So I immersed myself. I love doing research and actually saw the documents of her own declaration. And I personally visited her house, her town. When I am going to write something that has that kind of a theme or that kind of focus, that's what I do. I have to feel what I am writing about and why.

You've said before that you have to kind of get into a kind of head space for composing a piece like this. What was that headspace like for Stride?

For me, it's not so much the head space, but the energy. I understood that energy because it was sort of like an energy that I knew. And that is the energy that actually signifies resilience.

When you talk about resilience, I'm wondering, once you learned about Susan B. Anthony's story and her struggle, whether you felt some of that personally in your own career?

Well, yes and no. It's not about the career. It's about life itself. It's like falling and rising again. It's like a consciousness about failure that is not an option. In my life, I have had many moments like that. But because of that special force, that is what I understood by reading about her and looking at the pictures of all these women. And those are the women that, when everybody is saying we are defeated, they say, "No, we're not." And that is actually what gave me the strength to write something in her honor – the honor of the many symbolizes women all over the world, in a way.

I'd like to ask you about the music itself. The Pulitzer jury said there are Black American and Caribbean traditions in it.

Well, Stride has some American influence. For example, there are instances where I used the trumpet and the brass with the plunger, and that actually reminded me of Louis Armstrong. And for example, there is a passage with clarinets that might have a touch of what could sound like improvising, yet it's not. There are moments where the American sound, at least the way I perceive it, gets into the piece. It's like energies that combine and disappear and combine and disappear.

When I arrived in the United States, I saw for the first time the marches of Martin Luther King on television. And since then, I've seen so many marches all over the world. People march and ask for what they want. By that act of walking, you see, all of a sudden was a moment where, without thinking about it, I put it into the piece. There's an instance where there's this march and there's a little bit of silence, and then another step, and then another step. And that signifies the people of the world marching and asking for their dreams to be respected.

Are there some Cuban touches in the piece as well?

Why not? Of course, yes. At the end of the piece, there is a symbology that has to do with my interpretation of fractions of an African clave from the West Coast of Africa, of the region that used to be the Belgian Congo, that nowadays is Nigeria. And then, thinking about all of these people who were brought from that continent to this continent, and the struggles. And those people were brought here and you see their traces in the Caribbean, you see the traces in Central, South and North America. So I actually took that rhythm, and that is the one that all of a sudden ends the entire piece. Because the piece actually ends up with an explosion of bells, which is the declaration that finally the women got the right to vote. However, it took some time for the women of color to really be included.

Why did you choose the title, Stride?

I'm talking about the resilience, you know. I mean, if you actually inject yourself with energy, you are striding, you see? You are unstoppable in a way. So that's what I felt when reading about the movement and the resilience of Susan B. Anthony.

Stride denotes movement, that kind of marching you were talking about earlier. It makes me wonder if you see this piece as a kind of journey?

It is, absolutely. In a way, it was her journey, it is my journey. It is the journey of every single woman on this planet. But it's more than that. That's why I talk about the essence of a person. Some people call it the soul, other people the spirit. But there's something that is intangible. You can not touch it, but you can feel it.

Kind of like music.

Exactly.

Copyright 2021 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

June 6 is the 222nd birthday of Russian poet, novelist and composer Alexander Pushkin. He was the first Russian writer to achieve international success and is the founder of modern Russian literature. His cultural influence on his homeland and the world is still felt today. While a precise total has not been calculated, the number of art songs and choral works influenced by Pushkin’s poetry are in the several thousands.

His work often is placed into two categories, large-scale operatic works and popular or art songs. While the displacement of his writing into the realm of music doesn’t always do justice to Pushkin’s poetic pose, the musical reincarnations are long lasting and significant.

Here are 10 classical pieces influenced by Pushkin, plus one Soviet rock opera.

Opera

Most of the operas influenced by Pushkin take their inspiration from his larger works of prose, with the exception of Little Tragedies. With more than 25 operas that have been staged, excluding ones that are autobiographical, these five excerpts represent only a small amount of his writing transmuted into staged works. 

Mikhail Glinka — Overture to Ruslan and Ludmilla

Peter Tchaikovsky — Excerpt from ‘Tatiana's Letter Scene’ from Act I of Eugene Onegin

Alexander Borodin — ‘Polovtsian Dances’ from Prince Igor

César Cui — A Feast in the Time of Plague

Sergei Rachmaninov — Prelude from The Miserly Knight 

Songs

Although Pushkin's poetry is set to music was controversial with some music critics and Russian historians of the time, it did not stop composers such as Benjamin Britten, Franz Liszt and Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov from contributing to the thousands of songs written with the poet in mind. This Russian song tradition is similar to German lieder and fell out of popularity in the mid-20th century.  There is a lot of crossover of popular song into staged works. The song “The Fountain of Bakhchysarai,” by Vladimir Vlasov, which is on this list, also is a successful ballet.

Mikhail Glinka — ‘Nochnoy Zefir’ (‘The Night Zephyr’)

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov — ‘The Prophet’

Benjamin Britten — The Poet’s Echo: ‘Angel’

Vladimir Vlasov — ‘The Fountain of Bakhchysarai’ 

Dmitry Shostakovich — Four Romances on Poems by Pushkin: ‘Stanzas’

Bonus: Soviet Rock Opera

The Captain’s Daughter was a historical novel by Pushkin that was adapted into an opera by César Cui. It also has had a few film versions. It is not certain if this version is inspired by the films, opera or novel, but the excessive synthesizer with strong Russian vocals nevertheless makes for an interesting rendition. 

St. Petersburg Rock Opera Theatre — ‘Shvabrin’ from The Captain’s Daughter

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qo9ECKcvnwk 

Could there be a more unloved, abject literary form than the press release? Inherently clammy and needy, press releases crowd the inboxes of busy reporters, who find it all too easy to ignore their entreaties. ("My client is soooo great!")

But every so often, a press release shows up like this one from Early Music New York. It arrived with the swagger of a carnival barker. It was flashy. It was fun.

"An Instrument You May Never Have Heard Before!" the press release promised, and then in bright red text: "Dongsok Shin Plays Bach's Favorite Forgotten Instrument!"

Reader, I clicked. I simply couldn't resist. A press release suckered me into writing about the lautenwerck, an instrument indeed new to me. I called Dongsok Shin, an accomplished keyboardist and a member of the Baroque ensemble REBEL, who specializes in the harpsichord, organ and fortepiano. Lautenwercks were equally popular in Johann Sebastian Bach's day, Shin said.

"If he owned two of them, they couldn't have been that off the wall," he pointed out. Bach wrote a number of pieces specifically for the lautenwerck. But these days, he said, those compositions are usually played on harpsichords.

No lautenwerks survived the 19th century. Picture extremely delicate harpsichords — in fact, lautenwercks are alternately called lute-harpsichords. Their strings are made of guts, originally from sheep (like lutes), which gives lautenwercks a warm, intimate tone distinct from brassy, metal-strung harpsichords. (My editor, Steve Smith, was reminded of a quote from the late conductor Sir Thomas Beecham comparing the sound of harpsichords to "two skeletons copulating on a tin roof in a thunderstorm.")

"The gut has a different kind of ring. It's not as bright. The lautenwerck can pull certain heartstrings," Shin said, with the authority of one who knows firsthand.

The small handful of artisans currently making lautenwerks are basically forensic musicologists, reconstructing instruments based on research and what they think lautenwercks probably sounded like. Unlike a Steinway piano, there's no standardization to contemporary lautenwercks. "None of them really work the same way," Shin said. "They're all different shapes and sizes."

Shin is an early music maven, but he's also a fan of superhero movies, cartoon violence, Star Trek and Star Wars. "We love living life in excitement," he said. "And we sometimes forget there are other things in life too."

Playing the lautenwerck, he says, is a path towards peace in trying times, made extra meaningful around Johann Sebastian Bach's birthday. (The exact date is contested, but he would've been 336 years old in late March, 2021.) Bach's music played on the lautenwerk is a gift — anytime you have a chance to hear it.

Copyright 2021 NPR. To see more, visit npr.org.

Listen as Lumina performs three rare, early-American hymns during a recent recording session with Classical MPR at Central Presbyterian Church in downtown St. Paul.

These church songs, which were published before 1861 and then largely forgotten, borrowed melodies from European composers who were popular at the time. The hymns are among a few hundred being revived and archived thanks to the work of University of Minnesota professor Peter Mercer-Taylor and his American Classical Hymns project.

Vocal ensembles such as Lumina are helping to bring these once-neglected hymns back to public awareness.

"As a church choir director, as well as a singer, it was a privilege to be able to give these hymns new life," says Linda Kachelmeier, artistic director for Lumina. "And recording them in such a grand space as Central Presbyterian Church in St. Paul was an extra bonus!"

More:
Early-American hymns live again thanks to University of Minnesota professor
American Classical Hymns project seeks choirs to revive 'lost' pre-1861 music

'Marlon'

"Marlon" was published in The Young Ladies' Choir in 1846 by George F. Root. The tune, which includes piano accompaniment by Jennifer Anderson, comes from Franz Schubert's Trauerwalzer. Download the sheet music

'Bromley'

"Bromley" was published in The Musical Reader in 1819 by Thomas Hastings. The tune comes from Franz Joseph Haydn's Psalm LXIX. Download the sheet music

'Howell'

"Howell" was published in The Psaltery in 1845 by Lowell Mason and George James Webb. The tune comes from Felix Mendelssohn's Three Motets. Download the sheet music

Credits

Performers: Lumina (Linda Kachelmeier, Angela Grundstad and Clara Osowski) Pianist: Jennifer Anderson

Music: American Classical Hymns project

Filmed March 1, 2021, at Central Presbyterian Church, St. Paul, Minn.

Thanks to Prof. Peter Mercer-Taylor, University of Minnesota, and Jennifer Anderson, Central Presbyterian

March is Women's History Month, a time to highlight and honor the achievements of women. There are many women composers, performers and conductors who have shaped the face of classical music, a genre that is constantly evolving and changing. Here are 10 contemporary composers to add to your listening rotation.

Gabriela Lena Frank

Gabriela Lena Frank is a multifaceted composer and pianist who serves as composer-in-residence with the Philadelphia Orchestra. She takes a storytelling approach to her music, encouraging listeners to read her program notes to enhance the experience of her work. She has received many accolades and awards, including the 25th anniversary Heinz Award, awarded for her work breaking gender, disability and cultural barriers in the classical music industry. In 2017, she founded the Gabriela Lena Frank Creative Academy of Music in California, with a mission of creativity, arts citizenship and activism.

LISTEN: Gabriela Lena Frank — Canto De Velorio

Jessie Montgomery

New York City native Jessie Montgomery has received recognition for her compositions and a firm place in the millennial generation of American composers. From songs to full orchestral pieces, her work has been commissioned by the Sphinx Organization, the National Symphony and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, among many others. Her work is shaped by her upbringing in a community that allowed for artistic expression with a focus on social justice, as well as her heritage as a Black woman. An active violinist performer and educator, she has performed with Sphinx Virtuosi, Catalyst Quartet and is a founding member of PUBLIquartet.

LISTEN: Jessie Montgomery — Strum

Angélica Negrón

Puerto Rican composer Angélica Negrón stretches the boundaries of classical music by incorporating electronics, visual effects and nontraditional instruments into her compositions and performances. In addition to fulfilling commissions and performing, she also teaches for the New York Philharmonic's Very Young Composers Program, nurturing the next generation of aspiring composers. Her ability to create immersive soundscapes is shown in her film scores, which have been featured in the Tribeca Film Festival.

LISTEN: Angélica Negrón — Pescadores

Hildur Guðnadóttir

Hildur Guðnadóttir made history as the first woman to win an Oscar for original score in almost 20 years, for Joker — and one of three women to achieve this accolade. She also was the first solo female composer to win the BAFTA and Golden Globe awards for best score. An accomplished cellist who was raised in Iceland in a family of musicians, she also has released solo recordings and toured with bands.

LISTEN: Hildur Guðnadóttir — Bathroom Dance from 'The Joker'

Caroline Shaw

Caroline Shaw is an accomplished composer, musician and producer who made waves after becoming the youngest recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2013 with her Partita for 8 Voices. Her work transcends genres, as she has production credits on albums by Kanye West and NAS alongside commissioned pieces for the Los Angeles Philharmonic and other major orchestras. Her work combines the structural integrity of classical forms with the whimsy and playfulness of reinvention that will keep you on your toes.

LISTEN: Caroline Shaw — Plan & Elevation V. The Beech Tree

Sarah Kirkland Snider

Sarah Kirkland Snider's work has led to her being touted as "one of the decade's most gifted up-and-coming modern classical composers" by Pitchfork. Her music invokes storytelling in a confident and sophisticated way, creating imagery that you can't help but see when hearing her pieces. From yMusic to eighth blackbird to the New York Philharmonic, her music has been performed by orchestral and chamber ensembles around the world.

LISTEN: Sarah Kirkland Snider — Nausicaa

Shruthi Rajasekar

Indian-American composer and vocalist Shruthi Rajasekar's work proves her place as a rising star in the classical music world. She has received international acclaim for her compositions that combine her expertise in Carnatic (South Indian classical) and Western classical styles to create work that is complex, yet heartfelt and genuine. From grappling with the concept of community and identity to political commentary on the state of our world, Shruthi's work doesn't shy away from any one topic, instead facing concepts head-on.

LISTEN: Shruthi Rajasekar — Numbers

Chen Yi

Violinist and composer Chen Yi was born in the 1950s in Guangzhou, China, and was the first woman to receive a master's degree in music composition from the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing. She has lived in the United States for many years, teaching composition and composing music with a unique blend of Chinese and Western influences. Her music is performed all over the world and she has received many awards in both China and the United States.

LISTEN: Chen Yi — Symphony "Humen 1839" III. Adagio tragico

Anna Meredith

Scottish composer and performer Anna Meredith emerged on the British avant-garde classical music scene in 2008 with her piece froms on the BBC's Last Night of the Proms broadcast. In addition to her work with orchestras (including holding composer-in-residence with the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra) and other classical music ensembles, she also has branched out into electronic music and released studio albums. In 2016, her debut album, Varmints, won the Scottish Album of the Year Award and in 2020 she was on the shortlist for the prestigious Mercury Prize for her second studio album.

LISTEN: Anna Meredith — Nautilus

Mari Esabel Valverde

Award-winning composer and singer Mari Esabel Valverde is a rising star in the American choral scene and is highly sought after by ensembles around the country. One of her greatest achievements was when her piece Our Phoenix premiered in 2016 at the Gay and Lesbian Association of Choruses Festival. Fluent in Spanish and French and a student of Brazilian Portuguese and Swedish, she also does vocal music translation work. A former voice teacher for high school students, she teaches singing and voice training for transgender voices through TruVoice lessons.

Hear Mari Esabel Valverde's music on her Soundcloud.

Are you looking to add even more contemporary female composers to your listening rotation? Follow our playlist highlighting more music you'll love.

Downtown Nashville has a new tourist attraction dedicated to music among the honky-tonks of its entertainment district. The National Museum of African American Music is a treasure trove that holds the stories of more than 50 genres of music influenced by the African diaspora and its descendants — including classical music.

After years of operation as a "museum without walls" the $60 million venue opened to the public on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Guests begin the experience awash in sound. The combination of marimba, udu, kora and vocal music could be an art installation on their own, but the listening experience is an introduction to the museum, just like these West African sounds are the first step of the journey of African American music.

CEO H. Beecher Hicks pointed out that while the museum was originally planned for all of African American music, art and culture, narrowing the focus to music had many advantages. Not only did it better suit the city's branding as "Music City," making it more likely to draw tourists already here, but music draws a clear path through African American history. As guests move from room to room in the museum, these ties drive a narrative for the experience.

"Political movements and changes — of that is reflected in the music we're listening to at the time," Hicks said.

Curator Steven Lewis points out that classical music fans will enjoy artifacts such as a signed program from a 1946 performance by Marian Anderson, and vintage sheet music scores by Harry T. Burleigh, Undine Smith Moore and William Grant Still. An upcoming exhibit dedicated to the Fisk Jubilee Singers is being created in partnership with the Fisk University Special Collections Library.

While Nashville's Fisk Jubilee Singers are known for their fundraising tours in the 1870s and '80s, which brought Negro Spirituals across the world, the choir's work continues today. The exhibition will span the choir's roots in the experience of slavery and emancipation through the singers' 2007 trip to Ghana and beyond. With the choir's upcoming sesquicentennial, this is a welcome focus on a continuing story.

Every room of the museum is highly hands-on and interactive. Guests sing along with a gospel choir led by Bobby Jones and build a jazz improvisation with an application developed in partnership with New York-based jazz saxophonist Loren Schoenberg. From hip-hop loops to blues lyrics, each interactive display was built with the collaboration of working musicians. A swipe of a "smart wristband" allows guests to take home each of their musical creations, as well as playlists of every artist they read about.

While the two decades leading up to the venue's opening gave time for interactive technology to become possible, the museum has always focused on guest participation. In recent years, the museum operated community programming at schools and for corporate groups who had supported the institution. In 2020, these programs moved online due to COVID-19. The side effect of that move is interviews with luminaries such as jazz icon Dee Dee Bridgewater and Mary Wilson of the Supremes are archived for years to come.

Music students and educators in particular can make use of the museum's series From Nothing to Something, documenting the ingenuity of African American instruments. Now that it's online, you, too, can learn to play the spoons with Lucius Talley.

The National Museum of African American Music is open to the public on weekends, and community programming continues online. Find out more at NMAAM.org.

"Classical music has a problem with race," Philip Ewell says.

The New York City associate music professor said as much in a speech to the Society for Music Theory in 2019. His presentation urged a critical examination of what he called a "white racial frame" that is structural and institutionalized in music theory. His speech caused an uproar over his contention that influential music theorist Heinrich Schenker's white supremacist views affected the way music theory is taught in the United States.

Ewell paints a vivid picture of how classical music looks through a racial lens using the "dark room" analogy from Paul Hoffman's novel The Viennese: Splendor, Twilight and Exile.

"When you go into a Viennese apartment, there are two rooms," Ewell explained in a recent interview. "The first room is just what you think it would be. It's the dinner party room. There's the upright piano against the wall; it's where you ring in the new year; you have a beautiful dining room table — that's where you have your nice stereo and turntable; that's where you have fun.

"But every Viennese apartment has a back room, an antechamber, a dark room. That's where the secrets lie. That's the candlelit room, where there's a little writing desk in the corner and you open the drawers and you find letters of horrors, hate and anger."

As Ewell suggests, this is the room no one wants to enter or talk about, but that's where the answers are. It's painful to read about the history of suppression, anger, hate, white supremacy and patriarchy, especially if it is your own, but it is something that we must do, he says.

For example, Richard Wagner outlined his hatred for fellow composers Felix Mendelssohn and Giacomo Meyerbeer, who were Jewish, in his anti-Semitic — and also anonymously written — essay Das Judenthum in der Musik, Ewell points out.

"Wagner was not alone," Ewell said. "Fredrick Chopin, Franz Liszt, Igor Stravinsky, Anton Weber, Richard Strauss, Mily Balakirev and Peter Tchaikovsky. Guess what? They hated Jews, as well, and probably didn't have love in their hearts for black people from Africa."

A well-meaning classical music programmer might say, as Ewell puts it, "Let's be inclusive. Great — play a piece by Scott Joplin." The same goes for playing works by female composers such as Fanny Mendelssohn and Clara Schumann. But that's not enough, he says, because it doesn't change a system or a history that still favors Beethoven, Mozart and Haydn.

"There is something about classical music, which is, of course, deeply, deeply embedded in white supremacy and patriarchy," said Ewell, who teaches at Hunter College of the City University of New York. "It is supposedly high musical art coming from Europe. It played in very nicely to the narratives and mythologies that form the United States of America."

The traditional history of U.S. classical music shows the superiority of white and cisgender men, he says.

"We need to acknowledge that music of the white Western canon is not superior or inferior to any other music, to any other genre, to any other people in the world," he said. "We must acknowledge that just like with all races of peoples in the world, that we are all equal in all our apparent differences and beautiful idiosyncrasies, that all of the musics of the world are equals in all of their apparent differences and idiosyncrasies."

Some Black composers and performers, and others of color, have been erased, which Ewell calls "colorasure." (Kate Manne uses "herasure" to describe women who have been similarly erased.) He shared examples:

• The New York Philharmonic has had only three Black musicians in its 178 years: horn player Jerome Ashby and violinist Sanford Ellen in the 1970s and '80s, and current clarinetist Anthony McGill.

• The Metropolitan Opera, which was founded in 1883, has never staged an opera by a Black composer.

The white framework of U.S. classical music history implies that there weren't any African American operas for the Met to perform. But that's not true.

John Thomas Douglass, who was born in 1847 and whose mother was a slave, wrote a three-act opera, Virginia's Ball, in 1868. It was premiered in New York City at the Stuyvesant Institute and is probably the first opera by an African American. Harry Lawrence Freeman wrote 23 operas in the late 1800s and early 1900s, and Scott Joplin even wrote one, Treemonisha, in 1911 (although it wasn't given a complete performance until 1972).

Terence Blanchard's Fire Shut Up in My Bones was the first opera by a Black composer to be performed at the Met in 2021, 138 years after the company was founded.

Ewell hesitated when asked to suggest classical recordings for listeners who want to venture beyond systemic classical barriers, because, he says, that doesn't solve the problem. But he does recommend Maria Corley's album Soulscapes, which features solo piano works composed by women of color, including Florence Price, Valerie Capers and Undine Smith Moore, who wrote her own music theory textbook, featuring music by Black composers, in 1969.

Resources

Philip Ewell (offical site)

"We are convinced that this could be a game changer for teaching more than just notes and rhythms, but bringing a broader sense of community to the music."

Jason Max Ferdinand's book Teaching With Heart takes a new approach to choral directing. The compendium was released in 2020 through GIA Publications.

Inspiration for the project stems from Ferdinand's choir, the Aeolians, which he took to the American Choral Directors Association's national conference in 2019. There the singers blew away the audience by challenging racial biases in the choral world with their outstanding performances of traditional Western classical songs and Black music. In 2022, the Aeolians released their first album.

After their success, Ferdinand's progressive teaching style moved to the forefront of the conversation. Choral directors around the United States wanted to know how to re-create what he has perfected at Alabama's Oakwood University, where the Aeolians are based.

"I know a lot of people are interested in that 'Aeolian' experience, and, honestly, this book and how it's laid out is a great part of what we do here."

Ferdinand emphasizes that his teaching process is about choirs and teamwork. He worked with contributors from around the country to make the guide practical and accessible. The book includes 12 modules that correspond with the tracks on the Aeolians' album, as well as questions for choir directors to ask singers and students to help guide the thinking process around creating socially conscious music. There also are four hours' worth of conversations with composers and arrangers on the project. The book is laid out so teachers can get going quickly.

"My choir is not all music majors and minors," he said. "We really talk a lot about learning life lessons that you can use, whether you're going into medicine or dentistry or law. We need to take a deep dive into more than just notes, rhythms and phrasings, but really go deep down on how this has been impacted by society."

When the Aeolians' new recording came out in August 2022, members of the choir realized that many of its songs spoke to social issues that were happening right now. A song like "We Shall Overcome" was recorded before the killing of George Floyd, and "We Remember Them," a song about losing loved ones, was done pre-COVID. It led to Ferdinand asking how to approach and teach around these important topics in virtual-based classes during the semester.

"This process happened very organically, where some of the teachers picked certain songs and created lesson plans that help extract life principles from the songs," he said. "One teacher attach them to the national core standards for music and socioemotional learning standards."

In today's world, Ferdinand believes that choirs can no longer just teach notes and rhythms. His students would be lost if that is all they did, because now he has them spend so much time talking about the nitty-gritty of the music, including why, how and where it was written. It is important now in this socially aware world to have a clear understanding of the music being performed, he said. That has been his formula that's worked for his choir for many years.

"We take people on that roller coaster ride of life, just life period," he says about the audience experience. "And I think it is so much more meaningful, for the performance, for the listeners to leave there thinking, 'Wow, they really made me think about X. They made me think about why, and I want to make some adjustments to my life or make some adjustment about how I relate to other people.'"

One of the core concepts of the book and a driving force in Ferdinand's teaching is that music can be transformative, whether people realize it or not.

"We shouldn't program passively and sing or play passively," he said. "And it has to be connected to society. Speaking up about issues and marrying it with our performance practices, I think that's such a powerful thing."

Resources

The Aeolians (Amazon)
Jason Max Ferdinand — Teaching with Heart (GIA Publications)
Jason Max Ferdinand (official site)