Party Horse by Margie Guyot, 2017 Collaborating Artist
Our September concert (Variety: It’s the Spice!) is a celebration of musical variety — a daring departure from organization and the expected! The program is a secret, but you may get a few clues from our website and Facebook page in the weeks leading up to the performance. In the meantime, we hope you’ll enjoy a new series of recipes from the Woodwind Gourmet enticing you to embrace variety in the kitchen.
Musical Fruit
For our first collection in the Theme & Variations series, I decided we should explore the musical fruit (beans!) by starting with a very basic recipe and then expanding its flavor horizons a bit.
Beans have a reputation that is only partly deserved. Sure, they can be pretty hum-drum and they have an undeniably unavoidable side effect, but with a few choice ingredients and a hands-off approach thanks to the slow cooker, you can have an exciting, hearty (not to mention affordable) meal on the dinner table any night of the week!
Being a South Louisiana native, this first “theme” recipe is near and dear to me since it features the bold tastes of Cajun cuisine. All of the ingredients are easy to find. If you can’t find a salt-free Cajun seasoning blend, I’ve provided my personal recipe at the bottom.
KEY INGREDIENT:Mirepoix is a mix of aromatic vegetables (traditionally onions, carrots, and celery) forming the base of many soups and stews. The Cajun version of mirepoix replaces carrots with zesty green bell pepper. Be sure to chop the vegetables finely so that they nearly melt away during the cooking time, flavoring the whole dish.
Cajun-Style Red Beans & Ham Serves 4 No matter how far you are from the Mason-Dixon line, this simple slow cooker dish features pantry staples sure to be available anywhere. A savory ham hock will flavor the beans perfectly, so don’t be tempted to add salt until after the beans have cooked.
1 cup dried red kidney beans, rinsed and sorted
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 large green bell pepper, finely chopped
2 large celery ribs, finely chopped
7 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon salt-free Cajun seasoning blend*
1 bay leaf
1 large ham hock or a 6-7 ounce chunk of bone-in ham
Combine all the ingredients with 3 cups water in a slow cooker. Cover with lid, cook on high 5 hours or until beans are thoroughly tender.
Remove the ham hock or ham to a cutting board, allow to cool. Using a slotted spoon, remove 1 cup of cooked bean mixture to a medium mixing bowl; mash with a fork to form a paste. Stir the mashed beans back into the slow cooker to thicken the beans. Pick the ham from the bone, discarding fat and bone. Shred ham with fork and return it to the pot. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Serve beans atop a bed of fresh-cooked rice, top with finely-sliced green onion or parsley.
* Uncle Jason’s No-Salt Cajun Blend Yields approximately 2 tablespoons
Mix all ingredients thoroughly. Use immediately or store in an airtight container. I keep a bunch of this in a bottle in my spice cabinet. Try it on eggs, vegetables — just about anything, actually. It’s also an essential ingredient for blackening chicken or fish.
Manitou Winds explores the meandering, mystical path connecting music and words.
Our concert, May 27th, will showcase music from many different genres and styles — from traditional wind quintets in the Classical tradition to modern works and American folk tunes for all sorts of combinations of instruments. While the oldest work on the program premiered in 1830, the newest work will be receiving its world premiere!
We’re very excited and honored to premiere another chamber work by our friend and fellow ensemble member, Laura Hood. In her latest work, Sky Dance, Laura composed both the music and the lyrics, arranging for flute, clarinet, ukulele, guitar, harp, and a very special mother-daughter vocal duet (sung by Laura and her daughter, Jessie Hood).
I recently chatted with Laura about her latest chamber work to get some insider information on the upcoming premiere:
So, where did you get the inspiration for this new piece? Are there any particular memories attached to Sky Dance?
The basic song structure was actually written over ten years ago. I was on a spring camping trip with some Leelanau School students on North Manitou Island. We’d all just finished a very intimate, moving council on gratitude, and I was sitting on the beach, watching the light change during sunset. That’s when I first jotted down some of the main lyrical ideas in my little journal.
“So quietly, in the gentle hour, the hour of blue,
When the sky meets the earth, and where they join, there is you.
Suspensions of the day, they are resolved, the root holds on and the tonic remains true.”
— from Sky Dance
Laura Hood (b. 1961)
Our concert program explores the connection between music and words. Several lines from your lyrics marry musical terms with natural imagery — I love the masterful mixing of metaphors you’ve made here! A lot of the music on the concert program tells a story or evokes a specific scene. Were you also hoping to tell a story or paint a scene with this piece?
I think of it as more of a scene than a story. The first part of Sky Dance is about the tender and intimate moments of dusk; the delicate transition between light and darkness. It’s about this fine line where everything becomes very real. I wanted the vocal lines here to be subtle and low, so the supporting instrumentation is quite transparent too. Then the song transitions into the safety and celebration of nighttime — a dance party with the Aurora Borealis. Here, everyone is playing in a fun 5/4 time — each instrument and the voices all have their own part to play in the celebration.
As I was working on the scoring, my husband Bruce shared with me a chapter from The Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold, called “Sky Dance”. It was about the intricate mating ritual dance the woodcock does in springtime right at dusk. The male bird establishes his territory on the ground, spirals up into the sky, and then tumbles back to the ground to begin again. It’s just be another example of the kind of magic happening during those precious moments of transition at the end of the day.
“Let the night enfold you.
Let it lift you into the sky.
In darkness all of your shadows disappear,
your soul is free, no chains of fear.
And you can dance and you can sing.”
— from Sky Dance
Laura Hood
You mentioned this piece began over ten years ago. I imagine time has changed some of the meaning of the lyrics for you — probably also the music itself. While scoring it for a chamber group, did you find translating that original vision into printed music a challenge? Did it change your vision?
It was a fun challenge to score one of my songs for a group rather than just solo guitar and voice. First of all, I had to notate the vocal parts which are very unstructured and folk-y. That was probably the hardest part and — at times — it felt like I was putting my melody into a box where it didn’t belong.
The flute and clarinet parts added a whole new challenge and dimension to the song — possibilities I had not thought about before. Since I’m a brass player, it took me a couple of tries to write parts that were not only fun for Sam and Anne to play, but also helped to create the sound I was hoping for.
Then came the harp part, which I usually approach much like a bass part (but with many possibilities for pizzaz). I knew that if I gave you a chord structure, you would come up with something cool more or less on your own, so all I had to provide was an outline for the harp.
Maybe rather than changing, I guess you could say your vision expanded! Performing your music is always such a treat because the music is challenging and yet not nearly so rigid as typical chamber music. We’re often invited to change our parts in subtle and not-so-subtle ways — there’s definitely that element of improvisation you naturally expect of us!
I feel so fortunate to work with you, Sam, and Anne. You’re able to play anything I write, you’re willing to give me suggestions, add your own ideas to the music. It was an amazing process to hear the notes I wrote on a piece of paper just spring to life, creating what I think is a really cool piece. I feel humbled and honored by this whole process.
The honor is certainly ours! We’re grateful you share your music with us — not to mention your great horn and guitar playing! For this upcoming concert, our audience will also get to hear you sing for the first time — your daughter Jessie, as well, will be performing with us for the first time. Can you tell us more about your musical work with Jessie?
Jessie and I have been playing music together for about three years as Da Sista Hood, playing at local establishments and for events and fundraisers in the area. It’s been fun to work as musical colleagues, creating the sweet harmonies that just come from blending voices of the same family. Matching tone and timbre just comes naturally for mother and daughter, so we’re able to focus on the sweetness of the harmonies, our inflection and interpretation of the lines. I’m continuously amazed by Jessie’s poise, her musicianship, and her ability to learn new material. I’m of course very proud of her and thankful for opportunities to share music together — including this premiere performance.
We hope you’ll join us for this one-of-a-kind premiere of another original work by Laura Hood.
Manitou Winds explores the meandering, mystical path connecting music and words.
Words were created to communicate. Whether spoken or written, we need words to translate, convey, and make sense of our own experiences. Still, words are powerful but limited; they can tell us about an experience, but words themselves are not an experience.
Over the past few weeks, we’ve examined how music embodies its own wordless language of storytelling through sound and its interaction with our personal memories or daydreams. When music and words unite, however, a bit of transformation occurs. You might say music has the ability to transform words, briefly, into an experience.
Sun Songs by Jenni Brandon (b. 1977) collects sacred poetry from three different Native American tribes, examining their beautiful and harmonious relationship with the earth. The work — a seamless song cycle containing three songs — is written for soprano, English horn, cello, and piano and demonstrates Jenni’s transcendent flair for “tone painting”. I contacted Jenni, recently, and she graciously told me more about these texts, their significance, and how she chose them.
Many of Jenni’s works are directly inspired by nature or our interactions with it. “I had recently gotten a book of Native American prose and poetry (The Winged Serpent),” Jenni explains. “The book inspired me to look deeper into the lives of Native American people. Theirs was and is collection of cultures that honors the earth, sun, sky — all of nature. The idea of telling a story from their perspective (in a modern art song) really appealed to me.”
I. Song to bring fair weather
You, whose day it is, make it beautiful.
Get out your rainbow colors.
So it will be beautiful.
— translated by Frances Densmore (1867-1957)
from Nootka and Quileute Music
Jenni assembled texts from three different Native American tribes, choosing their relationship with the sun as her focal point for telling a story. “I was interested in telling a story of the sun – of their respect for it and the Earth, and the notion of honoring the land,” says Jenni. “Even though these tribes were far apart (geographically) and maybe never crossed paths, I think it’s powerful that their conception of the sun and their honoring of the sun and nature is so similar. It’s a recognition that distance and time may separate us, but our feelings about the land and our love of it are often the same, even today.”
II. Song to pull down the clouds At the edge of the world
It is growing light.
Up rears the light.
Just yonder the day dawns.
Spreading over the night.
— translated by Ruth Underhill (1883-1984)
from Singing for Power
Understandably, some modern ethnomusicologists dismiss the works of early anthropologists and musicologists. On the surface, it can appear many of those early scholars sought to define native music using western terminology, forcing it into standard forms and categories rather than studying it and documenting it in its organic state.
As pioneers in their field, however, they simply lacked the extensive knowledge of worldwide ancient cultures and the flexible musical lexicon that evolved in the decades following their discoveries. In truth, pioneers such as Frances Denmore, Ruth Underhill, and Leslie Spier are largely responsible for the survival of the often extant information we have about many Native American tribes which had already begun to vanish in the late 1800s and early 1900s.
What early scholars clearly understood and emphasized was that song had an important place in many Native American cultures. Their cultural practices combined words and music in ways that extended well beyond our fairly simplistic modern labels of secular and sacred.
III. A Prayer
Sun, my relative
Be good coming out
Do something good for us.
Make me work,
So I can do anything in the garden
I hoe, I plant corn, I irrigate.
You, sun, be good going down at sunset
We lay down to sleep I want to feel good.
While I sleep you come up.
Go on your course many times.
Make good things for us.
Make me always the same as I am now.
— translated by Leslie Spier (1893-1961)
from Havasupai Enthography
Not only bridging miles by bringing together the poetry of these three unique tribes, Jenni seamlessly combined their songs into an uninterrupted journey from dramatic daybreak to dusk. From the first note to the last, there is no significant break or pause in the work. The voices of the native poets blend into one another.
Jenni says she often likes to tell a single coherent story by combining different texts and then using the common themes within each to link them together as a whole.
“There’s one line that really makes me feel these texts were meant to be together: ‘Make me always the same as I am now.’ The author talks of wanting to ‘feel good’, and I think of the feeling many of us get at a sunrise or sunset – the feeling of infinite possibility, that everything is going to be okay. I think this line captures the spirit of the work, and — to me — brings sunlight into what can be a dark and angry world. If we hold onto this good feeling, this sense of loving the land — finding the goodness in a sunrise/sunset — then we will do what we need to do in order to keep that feeling alive, to make us the same in that moment of happiness, even when times are hard and challenging.”
While studying the English horn part and rehearsing and discussing this enthralling chamber work with our special guests (Emily Curtin Culler, soprano, Jean Coonrod, cello, and Susan Snyder, piano), I’ve noticed that same line has stood out as significant for me as well. Colored by Jenni’s musical framing while still maintaining its pure word form, the line becomes an elemental statement of both gratitude and hope. What better way to express both simultaneously than to wish a feeling or moment would never end?
In this unique combination of timbres which melds together in stunning warmth and remarkable expressiveness, Jenni Brandon has transformed simple but sacred words into a profound experience. We invite you to join us as we follow the sun on its journey from daybreak to dusk.
Manitou Winds explores the meandering, mystical path connecting music and words.
We’ve been discussing for the past few weeks how music can enliven poetry and prose — bringing out hidden meanings from the words, engaging the listener beyond what the naked words ever could. But, when the words are basically nonsense, can the reverse occur? Can a composer use words to play with music rather than using music to play with words?
I happened upon Two Songs for Tenor and Wind Quintet and the music of David Jones (b. 1990) while Manitou Winds was still in rehearsal for our debut appearance in 2015. My chance encounter was thanks to the modern wonders of internet searching. I was brainstorming for ideas and asked the ether of cyberspace for music written for vocalist and wind quintet. Thanks to the internet, discovering undiscovered and unpublished student composers is easier than ever.
David was about to graduate with his Bachelor of Musical Arts in Composition from Brigham Young University-Idaho when I first got in touch with him back in 2015. He’s now received his Master of Music Composition and is presently a graduate teaching assistant at BYU in Provo, Utah. Among his influences, he credits Stravinsky, Debussy, Hindemith, and Holst for shaping his motive-driven style. His brilliant settings of these two songs actually began as a light bit of competition.
“I wrote each of these pieces for two separate art song competition recitals put on by the voice faculty at BYU-Idaho,” David recalled. “The assignment for the first was to write something light or humorous since the recital was being held on April Fools’ Day.”
For a light and humorous subject, David consulted the poetry of Lewis Carroll (1832-1898), selecting Jabberwocky for his text. David says it was the “creative vocabulary” of Carroll’s poetry that initially drew him to it. “The light mood in which Carroll presents what could be considered a fairly dark topic appealed to me, so I sought to capture that in the nature of the music,” David says.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
— “Jabberwocky”
from Through the Looking-Glass (1871) by Lewis Carrol
First published in 1871 as part of Carroll’s novel Through the Looking-Glass (the sequel to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865)), Jabberwocky remains one of the greatest nonsense poems ever written in English. Beneath the surface of the playful language is a tale of the heroic slaying of a terrifying beast, but somehow it’s the words that stick with folks rather than the gory details.
“It seems very pretty, but it’s rather hard to understand!… Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas — only I don’t exactly know what they are! However, somebody killed something: that’s clear, at any rate.”
— Alice
from Through the Looking-Glass
David’s setting pairs the modern-day wind quintet (flute, oboe, clarinet, horn, and bassoon) with a vocalist armed with Carroll’s playful lexicon. What results is a fantasy tale set to music. Using a central theme presented by the vocalist, David manipulates the timbres of the quintet in inventive ways, altering the theme as needed to further portray the story.
The second song was written under slightly different circumstances: another competition but slightly different rules. All of the composers were required to use the same text: The Owl and the Pussycat by Edward Lear (1812-1888).
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Kitty! O Kitty, my love,
What a beautiful Kitty you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Kitty you are!”
Kitty said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
— The Owl and the Pussycat (1871)
by Edward Lear
David readily admits he was not terribly fond of the assigned poem initially. Lear’s poem, like Carroll’s, is considered a nonsense poem but — unlike Jabberwocky — the nonsense comes more from the subject of the story and the poet’s whimsical plays on words rather than extensive use of nonsense words.
Students were assigned to use different instruments or sounds to represent various characters from the poem. David uses a central theme to carry the poetry, again, however for the quintet accompaniment he employs even more colorful uses of harmony, dissonance, and instrumentation to mirror events in the poem. In his setting, we hear several quirky harmonies, lop-sided rhythms, and even a few specific animal references (e.g., when the oboist is asked to crow his reed to simulate a pig’s squeal).
We’ve been enjoying rehearsals of these whimsical pieces — delighting in the crunchy harmonies and unexpected twists. For our concert, we’ve enlisted the vocal talents of our special guest, Emily Curtin Culler, soprano. Manitou Winds is delighted to present these two original settings of classic poetry for our Music Speaks concert.
Manitou Winds explores the meandering, mystical path connecting music and words.
Words and music have long been intertwined going back to ancient times and continuing into our modern era of singer-songwriters. But, it was the composers of the Romantic Era (1820-1900) who began to be so moved by contemporary poetry and literature that they began to explore ways to enhance words with music — adding nuances and emotions that words alone were incapable of communicating.1
Prior to the influence of Romantic idealism, words and music often joined together in a sort of marriage of convenience. Poems were often written to fit existing melodies while musical accompaniment would be matched to a poem with little more reason than a shared meter.2 Depending on the listener’s perspective, the relationship between music and poetry was seldom more than one being a colorful delivery vehicle for the other!
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, composers began to write music that spoke to their own interests and ideals rather an aristocratic patron’s wishes. No longer at home in the lavish ballrooms of the affluent, the forefront of musical development was to be found in much more informal parties held in private homes where men and women with interests in the latest poetry, literature, art, and music would gather to perform and be entertained.1 It was in this vibrant, scintillating atmosphere that the art song (i.e. lied) was created.
Perhaps the most famous Romantic to unite music and poetry in a passionate embrace was Franz Schubert (1797-1828). In his short lifespan of a mere thirty-one years, he lived the rough-and-tumble Bohemian life of a true Romantic: abandoning a career in teaching to pursue his passion — a move which made him virtually penniless, but enabled him to write more than 600 art songs (not to mention several masterpieces in other forms).
“When one has a good poem the music comes easily, melodies just flow, so that composing is a real joy.”1
— Franz Schubert
(1797-1828)
Schubert’s approach to writing art songs had a lasting influence on the composers who would follow. Rather than merely writing music to accompany poems, he joined poetry and music in a way that sought to make them inseparable. He purposefully bent the rules of harmony and often broke with conventional ideas of form — expanding the vocabulary of music, enabling it to speak more clearly to the listener and get at the meaning of the poetry.
Within the staves of Schubert’s art songs, music forms an intimate, sympathetic relationship with the text. When the narrator of a poem feels sadness, there is a very purposeful shift in harmony to evoke that emotion. When there is a sudden burst of joy in the text, the music has often built up to that same passionate fervor even while the text was only beginning to hint at it.
Der Hirt auf dem Felsen (English: The Shepherd on the Rock), D. 965, was written in the final month of Schubert’s life and demonstrates his unique talent in marrying music and poetry. While arguably not an example of his most deeply-felt connection to a pre-existing text, Schubert was clearly showing off!3
Designed to be a showpiece for the famous operatic soprano Pauline Anna Milder-Hauptmann, he was instructed to write a work allowing her to express a wide range of feelings and emotions onstage. Perhaps because the clarinet was a fairly recent addition to the orchestra and yet another opportunity to add innovation, Schubert added a clarinet to the usual voice and piano combo.
For the text, Schubert wove together lines from three different poems written by two different poets. In effect, the song is divided into three fairly distinct segments. The first and third segments were excerpted from two poems written by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) — “Der Berghirt” (The Mountain Shepherd) and “Liebesgedanken” (Thoughts of Love) — while the middle section was written by K.A. Varnhagen von Ense (1785-1858), excerpted from his poem “Nächtlicher Schall”(Nocturnal Sounds).
When on the highest cliff I stand,
gaze down into the deep valley
and sing, and sing,
the echo from the ravines
floats upwards from the dark valley
far away.
The further my voice travels,
the clearer it returns to me
from below, from below.
So far from me does my love dwell
that I yearn for her more ardently
over there, over there.
With deep grief I am consumed,
my joy is at an end;
all hope on earth has left me;
I am so lonely here,
I am so lonely here.
So longingly sounded the song in the wood,
so longingly it sounded through the night,
drawing hearts heavenwards
with wondrous power.
Spring is coming,
Spring, my joy;
now I will make ready to go journeying.
Der Hirt auf dem Felsen, D. 965
Translation by Lionel Salter
Reading the text from a purely literal stance, it seems a bit vague if not overly-dramatic. Perhaps you also sense a change in voice between the two different poets. Here, Schubert’s music masterfully fills in gaps of emotion, meaning, and time left open by the words. Through carefully-placed harmonic changes and recurring, memorable themes, Schubert unites the poetry into a single voice. Through the union of words and music, you find yourself feeling the shepherd’s longing and just as easily understanding the sudden joy and hope of springtime.
It’s a marvel that he composed a piece filled with joy and hope while suffering from the very illness that doomed him to an early death. Sadly, we don’t know whether Schubert ever heard his piece performed. He certainly couldn’t have known how enduring it would be; he died only a month after completing it, and its premiere occurred nearly two years later.
The trio of soprano, clarinet, and piano are in conversation and practically dancing throughout this song — a dazzling display of dexterity and vocal agility! A work of such range and depth is demanding for all the musicians involved. Manitou Winds is excited to present this Romantic masterpiece featuring Emily Curtin Culler, soprano; Anne Bara, clarinet; and Susan Snyder, piano.
We hope you’ll join with us in celebrating the coming of spring and the unity of words and music at our spring concert.
Grace Episcopal Church
341 Washington St.
Traverse City
____________
Admission is free.
A freewill offering will be taken
References 1. Wright, C. (1996) “Listening to Music”, West Publishing Company; St. Paul, MN. pp. 245-249. 2. Grout, J. & Palisca, C. (2001) “A History of Western Music”, W.W. Norton & Company; New York, NY. pp. 448-449, 544-546. 3. Howell, C. (2013) “Der Hirt auf dem Felsen”; http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2007/Apr07/Hirt_430542.htm
Manitou Winds explores the meandering, mystical path connecting music and words.
Music and words are often united through a composer’s use of poetry or prose (i.e., lyrics), but sometimes a composer chooses to leave even more to the imagination by guiding audiences through scenes or stories using words only in a work’s title. With an evocative title and the composer’s clever use of colorful composition techniques, each audience member can journey to the destination the composer intends, and yet each can experience a different story or scene.
One such piece on our Music Speaks program is Pastoral, Op. 21 (1943) by Vincent Persichetti (1915-1987). A masterpiece in wind chamber music since its premiere by Philadelphia’s Curtis Quintet, this single-movement piece evokes for the audience bright and sunny scenes of rural life.
By definition, a “pastoral” is meant to be a depiction of pastureland, shepherds, farmers, beautiful idyllic countryside.1What country? Which people? It turns out these details may be at least partly up to the audience’s imagination.
Written during his late twenties, while still a doctoral student, many scholars feel Pastoral reflects a composer who was yet on the cusp of finding his own compositional voice, possessing a technique still much influenced by Stravinsky, Bartók, Hindemith, and Copland.2 Flavored as it is with a Coplandesque folk song sensibility and angular harmonies reminiscent of early 20th century composers, the voice of Persichetti’s influences is fairly obvious; but so too is his unique character — full of surprises, twists, and turns.
“… if I knew you very well, I would rather not be talking to you in words; I would rather talk to you in a piece I write. All my relationships are more meaningful when it’s through my music.”3
— Vincent Persichetti
(1915-1987)
Though it would be hard to prove scientifically (opinions would certainly vary from listener to listener), I believe it would be hard to listen to this piece and not picture the countryside — even if the title were kept secret from you. That, I believe, is proof that Persichetti captured a bit of the magic between music and words, making his Pastoral an endearingly popular piece for wind quintet.
As important as it is for the audience to explore the countryside using the live performance as a sort of map, the members of Manitou Winds must use the inner workings of Persichetti’s composition as a guide — shepherding all of his motifs and harmonies into a unified depiction of idyllic country scenery. To help us, we often talk about what we feel our individual parts might be contributing at any given point in the music, and also what the overall “story” of the piece might be.
While some who have written about this work hear a series of distinct scenes with contrasting characters and plot lines all their own, my own vision is far more simplistic. It’s a story of an ordinary drive along a rural highway that takes a spontaneous, child-like turn…
You’re driving along on a sunny day — maybe with a particular destination in mind, but you’re in no hurry to get there. You are blissfully unhinged from anyone’s schedule; a rarity in today’s world. Suddenly, around a bend in the road, the trees part to reveal a beautiful meadow with rolling hills, a pond in the distance with some cattails and a willow tree, maybe a few cows scattered about.
Entranced by the beauty, you find yourself pulling over to the side of the road to take it all in. On a whim, you step out of the car, walk to the edge of the fencerow, and lean cautiously onto it as you stare out across the meadow. Regardless that you’re wearing your good shoes and clearly not dressed for a hike, you suddenly find yourself going over the fence, smudging your clothes on the rough, weather-hewn boards. You notice this, but you keep going.
Birds skirt and soar overhead as you make your way across the meadow headed toward the pond. For a brief moment, you worry someone may be watching, wondering what you’re up to, but all those worries of self-consciousness dissolve as a breeze sweeps across the tall grasses, uniting them into a sea which parts and then enfolds in your wake. Weren’t there cows somewhere — OH! Yes, and here are their tell-tale leavings so suddenly and perilously in the path of your steps!
After a few spontaneous detours, you finally reach the edge of the pond by skirting across a patch of ground far boggier than expected (your shoes have simply had it by now). From a raised part of the bank where the old willow reclines, the pond reflects an early summer sun in its late-afternoon glow, rippled and dappled across the water. Your breaths come slower now, like the sighing of those willow branches brushing delicately against an invisible breeze.
How long have you been standing here? Is it okay to leave now? A brief escape from the everyday, maybe a momentary lapse of common sense in exchange for uncommon grace. A short excursion, but a meaningful one!
You’re invited to scurry over the fence with us and come along for an escape from the everyday on a journey with music as a map and words as pictures!
The pastoral-themed landscapes in today’s article are from the studio of our 2017 collaborating artist, Margie Guyot. For more information about Margie’s home studio and gallery and to view many more examples of her work, visit www.MargieGuyot.com.
Grace Episcopal Church
341 Washington St.
Traverse City
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Admission is free.
A freewill offering will be taken
References 1. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, s.v. “Pastoral,” (accessed March 26, 2017). 2. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, s.v. “Vincent Persichetti,” (accessed February 15, 2017). 3. Duffie, B. (November 15, 1986) “Composer Vincent Persichetti: A Conversation with Bruce Duffie”; http://www.bruceduffie.com/persichetti.html
Manitou Winds continually finds inspiration in the stories of the composers who write the music we enjoy sharing. We also seek fresh inspiration in the vibrant arts scene in Northern Michigan — selecting a new Collaborating Artist each year.
We’re often asked what it means to “collaborate” with an artist — especially when we obviously work in two completely different mediums. My favorite answer: each collaboration means something different! No two composers speak through music in quite the same way, and no two artists infuse the canvas with the same verve and personality, and so each collaboration means a new discovery.
Throughout each year-long collaboration — through conversation about our unique art forms, and putting together joint concerts and exhibits — artist and musician alike often discover new aspects of their art and take our audience along for the ride. Not knowing where exactly that ride will go is part of the fun and makes it nothing at all like an assignment… and fun is pretty well our 2017 artist’s specialty!
I first met Margie Guyot in an unexpected way — during a fateful Encore Winds rehearsal. When someone aims a saxophone at you, you tend to take notice! It wasn’t too long after that rehearsal when I happened to be browsing on Facebook and read an interview where Margie casually mentioned oil painting was a hobby of hers. Later that summer, while browsing in North Seas Gallery in Charlevoix, MI, a lovely landscape painting caught my attention. I did a double-take: Margie Guyot was the artist. “She’s no ‘hobby’ artist!” I thought.
Originally from Iowa, Margie grew up in love with both art and music — a penchant for expressing herself, you might say. Her family’s basement was always loaded with art materials, and she attended weekend art classes at the Davenport Art Museum. Art was fun – until high school, at least. That’s when her art teacher found out she also played saxophone and told her she couldn’t be in band and art. And so, Margie dropped art and majored in music — out of spite.
“The power of spite can accomplish a lot — not all of it bad!” — Margie Guyot
“Spite” led Margie down the single-track road of music for a while. After receiving her bachelor’s degree with highest honors in music education, Margie made another critical decision in choosing not to teach. Instead, she took to the highway, playing saxophone in a road band touring the Midwest, dressed to the 9’s whilst living off mac and cheese.
When the “glamorous” life of a touring musician had spun its tale, Margie found her way to the Detroit area where she worked the graveyard shift at Ford Motor Company. It was 30 years of hard work and a steady paycheck, but not exactly the life she’d always dreamed of.
During these years on the line with her nose to the grindstone, art slowly began to make its way back into Margie’s life. She was inspired by Betty Edwards’ Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain — a book she says changed her life. She religiously performed every exercise in the book, gradually opening her eyes to really see.
As her renewed interest in art grew stronger, she traveled across the country (and continents) on extended vacations to study with famous mentors. In that time she studied with Robert Bateman, Clyde Aspevig, and Janet Fish — each artist contributing to her unique and colorful perspective.
Once she was finally able to retire from the assembly line, Margie moved to Northern Michigan and now paints whatever she likes every day — all from her Possum Hollow Studio in Ellsworth, MI.
Possum Hollow hosts a stunning array of Margie’s paintings. Surrounded on all four sides by their brilliance, you can see first-hand her favored painting styles vary wildly in color and content. We were able to make a trip up to Possum Hollow in early March — a chance to talk about her art and see her latest pieces.
Margie always creates her landscapes en plein air, painting on location all over Northern Michigan where she finds little bits of beauty and heartfelt scenes that the more casual passersby might miss in their hurry from one place to the next.
In times when she’s grown tired of more predictable landscapes and their endless variations of blues and greens, she turns to creating still life paintings where she can work in a limitless palette of saturated colors and complex patterns — juxtaposing linens, glassware, and produce with elements that might surprise (taxidermy, masks, vintage toys, and other unexpected “characters”).
Finding visual inspiration among Margie’s work for our 2017 spring concert program, Music Speaks, was not at all difficult. Narrowing down all the choices proved to be the challenge that took much back-and-forth, however.
Music Speaks is a concert depicting many moods and characters, so it was hard to find a single image that would immediately, authentically stand along with the theme on a poster. Finally, after brainstorming and searching through the paintings a bit more, I realized the symbol of a road — a path connecting two places or two ideas — was a central part of our theme.
One of Margie’s recent landscapes, Rogers Road (2016), stood out immediately. The painting depicts a particular hideaway near East Jordan — a location Margie says she’s painted several times in all seasons. On a particular day in midsummer, she was inspired to paint on the roadside in the shade of a kindly tree who happened to be in the right place at the right time. The colors, the warmth of the sun, the wind in the grass, the sense of adventure of the open road… suddenly it was all making sense!
Since our visit was in early March — just as the robins had begun to make their gradual reappearance and a thin layer of snow was still on the ground — we weren’t able to have a grand tour of Margie’s extensive Possum Hollow Gardens. We’re certainly looking forward to a tour later this summer to see all the potential art in full bloom.
As part of our year-long collaboration, you’ll get a grand sampling of Margie’s work in a special exhibit at the concert venue. We also plan to have Margie and her saxophone on stage with us for our September concert. Stay tuned for more details!
2016 was a dynamic year for Manitou Winds — many opportunities to get out into the community and share the intimate quality of chamber music while also spreading imagination, creativity, and inspiration through visual art from our collaborating artist, Ellie Harold.
In April, Jason and Ellie were invited to go on air with the Christal Frost show on WTCM 580 AM in Traverse City’s Radio Center to discuss our spring concert. Jason had never been on the radio before! Microphones and cables everywhere… it was quite an experience.
In November, Ellie and Jason were interviewed by Allison Batdorff of the Traverse City Record-Eagle. We were gearing up for 2016’s Winter Songs & Carols concert, and also reflecting on the year’s collaboration with Ellie. You can read the full article HERE.
In December, Jason and Ellie were interviewed by MINews 26’s Marlaina Scarbrough, spreading the word about what makes chamber music so unique and describing our efforts to bridge the gap between visual and performing arts.
We’re certainly excited about 2017 — our new collaborating artist (Margie Guyot) plus plenty of upcoming concerts. We hope you’ll be able to join us in May for “Music Speaks…”. Stay tuned for more details!
In our annual winter concert, Manitou Winds presents
a program of music, poetry, and prose inspiring you toembracewinter.
Have you ever heard a tune that just kinda grabbed you by surprise and then stuck around? We have a lot of terms for this potentially irksome phenomenon (ever heard of an earworm?), but sometimes finding out a little bit more about the tune that caught your attention can provide a sense of satisfaction if not relief. But what happens if it just leads to more questions?
Jason found himself in just that spot when he decided to include St. Basil’s Hymn on this year’s Winter Songs & Carols program. “I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I first heard the tune in a context pretty far-removed from what might be considered the original,” says Jason. “I heard it on George Winston’s excellent album (December from 1982) in a track he titled Night, Part III: Minstrels. I was immediately drawn in by the tune because it called to mind, for me, images of quiet, snowy winter. I had no idea about its origins, but I often listened to it well beyond the Christmas season.”
George Winston’s December liner notes say Minstrels was inspired by St. Basil’s Hymn, a traditional Greek children’s New Year’s carol, based upon a rendition by Malcolm Dalglish from his album Thunderhead from 1982.
Dalglish, a prolific dulcimerist and composer, later released the tune in a work for dulcimer and Children’s Choir (Kalanta of the New Year). But, in researching, Jason soon found that the tune can pop up in many different contexts sometimes even when the performer isn’t intending to evoke New Year or even Greek folk music.
“From this, I can only gather that the tune inspires a certain mood that makes it more or less independent from the lyrics,” says Jason. “Tunes and lyrics — especially in folk music — have a way of joining up and then parting ways. Many of our most beloved Christmas carols began as poems that someone much later decided to add to a pre-existing and unrelated tune, and we often don’t know who wrote either component.”
St. Basil’s Hymn is one of many traditional carols (often referred to as calanda) from Greece that are still sung by children on St. Basil’s feast day (which is also New Year’s Day). In the tradition still practiced to some extent in modern times, Greek children roam the neighborhoods from house-to-house on St. Basil’s Day, playing instruments and singing songs, bidding New Year’s tidings to everyone. Over the years, the young carolers have gone from receiving gifts of sweets and pastries to often walking away with cold-hard cash. “These are the ‘minstrels’ George Winston was referring to!” says Jason.
Uncovering the tradition behind the carol was interesting enough, but what about those lyrics? And who was St. Basil? The questions were only growing…
Saint Basil of Caesarea (c. 329-379) was an influential figure in the early Christian church whose theological writings and prayers are still in use. Though he lived in fourth century, he is still very much a sacred figure especially in the Greek Eastern Orthodox Church. In Greek traditions, honoring St. Basil has gradually evolved his presence into something like our western Santa Claus wherein he is said to bring gifts to children on January 1st. Greek families also bake (or buy!) a special bread to commemorate St. Basil in a tradition similar to western traditions surrounding the feast of Epiphany.
The happy minstrel children, wandering the streets of a small village playing instruments and singing happy songs of St. Basil and the New Year. But what are the lyrics to St. Basil’s Hymn (Archiminia ki Archihronia)? Translated directly from Greek, depending on which version is being sung, they reveal a pretty mysterious thing: two songs in one!
It’s the beginning of the month, beginning of the year High incense tree Beginning of my good year Church with the Holy Seat
It’s the beginning of our Christ Saint and spiritual He got out to walk on earth And to welcome us
St. Basil is coming from Caesaria And doesn’t want to deal with us May you long live, my lady He holds an icon and a piece of paper With the picture of Christ our Savior A piece of paper and a quill Please look at me, the young man
Historians aren’t certain, but it’s assumed these lyrics come from 17th century Greece. As we’ve highlighted to demonstrate above, random lines from the poem seem to come from nowhere suggesting a completely different story, one traditionally believed to be a love story between a peasant man and a noble woman who were separated by social class.
As early as the medieval period in Europe secular composers created works by borrowing plainchant tunes from the church and then layering new vocal lines above the Latin chant tune and text — literally two or more songs being performed at once, the lyrics often having nothing to do with one another, contextually. “It may be a crude, lyrics-only, sort of continuation of that medieval form, or it may simply be some form of misprint in the written record that just took hold in tradition,” Jason muses. “I do find it funny that the tune and lyrics are still a large part of the celebration of St. Basil even though these non-sequitur lines are embedded in the poetry.”
“The more I thought about the mysterious lyrics and the unknown love story, the more I found the tune intriguing, too. I decided I would write a version for Manitou Winds that extracts a bit of that mystery and gives voice to this unknown poet whose lines have wandered into the wrong song at the wrong time. In my arrangement [for flute, clarinet, horn, bassoon, and harp], I give space for the original tune, but then in the middle of the piece the horn and bassoon bring a passionate countermelody over the top of the tune. In our ears — at least for a few moments — we hear more about this painful story of unrequited love and the poet’s voice soars over the tale about St. Basil. Then, like mists of time rolling in to forever obscure the poet and his story, the melody disappears back into the harmony and lines of the traditional hymn tune.”
Manitou Winds will premiere Jason’s arrangement of St. Basil’s Hymn at both our Winter Songs & Carols performances in 2016. We hope you can join us!
In our annual winter concert, Manitou Winds presents
a program of music, poetry, and prose inspiring you toembracewinter.
For this year’s Winter Songs & Carols performances, we’re delighted to be working with two talented vocalists who will grace the stage with their glittering interpretation of songs arranged especially for this year’s performances: Christy Burich and Emily Curtin Culler!
Christy Burich
soprano
Christy moved to Traverse City only two years ago from Chicago, IL, where she’d been working as a Music Together center director for nearly 15 years sharing the joys of making music with young children and their families. Prior to that, she lived in Los Angeles for 10 years pursuing work in TV and film having received her Bachelor of Fine Arts in Theatre Performance from the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.
It was while living in California that Christy decided to pursue working with children and earned her Master of Arts in Marriage, Family Therapy, and Child Counseling. Still thoroughly devoted to her work with children, she currently she teaches Music Together classes at the Elevated Arts studio in Traverse City and works as a teacher assistant at The Children’s House. Christy is also a children’s birthday party entertainer and the self-producer of two children’s holiday CDs.
Marrying her delectably warm voice with her unmistakable stage presence, Christy recently charmed throngs of children and grown-ups alike when she landed the starring role in the Old Town Playhouse’s production of Mary Poppins – The Broadway Musical.
You’ll also have a chance to see Christy onstage, January 2017, in the Old Town Playhouse production of Stephen Sondheim’s Company which, will be under the musical direction of none other than Manitou Winds’ own Sam Clark!
Emily Curtin Culler
soprano
Emily is an active soloist, chorister, and chamber musician who recently moved to Michigan from Boston. As a soprano Choral Scholar with Boston University’s Marsh Chapel Choir, she performed weekly services for audiences throughout New England and around the globe via WBUR.
She is also an original core member of the Lorelei Ensemble, a nine-voiced women’s chamber group dedicated to expanding the repertoire for women’s voices. The ensemble specializes in performing lesser-known early music while also collaborating with living composers to produce innovative programming that speaks to a wide audience. (Hear recordings of Emily singing with Lorelei HERE!)
Emily earned her Master of Science in Arts Administration with a Certificate in Fund Raising Management and Master of Music in Vocal Performance degrees from Boston University, while receiving her Bachelor of Music in Vocal Performance from Samford University. She also completed a special course of study in vocal performance at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London, England.
In addition to being an in-demand performer, Emily is a non-profit and arts management professional. Presently, she is Director of Development at Interlochen Public Radio, insuring quality programming for listeners all across Northern Michigan (and beyond!).
We were delighted to have both Christy and Emily out to Leelanau County, recently, for a Manitou Winds rehearsal. Naturally, rehearsal was followed by a celebratory dinner prepared by our own Woodwind Gourmet. Jason had asked both our soloists for their favorite winter dishes and then served up a meal featuring a few of their favorites. It was a great time to celebrate our collaboration and to get to know one another a little better. Here are two of the recipes for you to try out this winter!
Tuscan Bean Soup Serves 8 This is a wintertime favorite of Emily’s — a savory, heart-warming bowl of comfort. Jason’s version adds smoky bacon and a healthy helping of hearty greens to the mix.
1 pound dried cannellini beans
6 ounces applewood smoked bacon, chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large onion, chopped
2 medium carrots, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 large celery ribs, cut into bite-sized pieces
8 cloves garlic, minced
4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
3 cups water
2 teaspoons dried summer savory
2 bay leaves
1 bunch collard greens, stemmed and chopped (or 10oz frozen)
1 14.5oz can whole tomatoes, crushed
1 sprig fresh rosemary
Soak beans at room temperature in 4 quarts water seasoned with 3 tablespoons sea salt for 8 hours or up to 24 hours; drain and rinse well. Alternately, you can use the “quick soak method”: in a Dutch oven cover the beans with water, add 3 tablespoons sea salt, bring to a boil, cover and boil for 2 minutes, remove from heat, let soak 1 hour. Drain and rinse well.
Preheat oven to 250-degrees. Sauté chopped bacon in Dutch oven over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until fat has rendered and bacon is lightly browned. Add onion, carrots, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are softened and lightly browned (10-15 minutes). Stir in garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Stir in broth, water, savory, bay leaves, and soaked beans. Increase heat to high and bring to simmer. Cover pot, transfer to preheated oven, and cook until beans are mostly tender (45 minutes).
Remove pot for oven and stir in greens, tomatoes, and rosemary. Return pot to oven and continue cooking until beans and greens are fully tender (40 minutes to an hour).
Discard bay leaves and rosemary, season with additional salt and pepper. Serve with warm, crusty bread and lots of friends!
Irish Cream Truffles Yields app. 30 truffles Rich and sweet, these are one of Christy’s favorite ways to top off a wintertime celebration. With Irish Cream and dark chocolate, you’ll find it’s really hard to eat just one!
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate chips
1⁄4 cup unsalted butter
1⁄2 cup heavy cream
1⁄3 cup Bailey’s Irish Cream liqueur
Cocoa powder for coating
Place the chocolate and butter in a double-broiler over medium-low heat or melt gently in the microwave; stirring frequently just until melted and uniform. Remove from heat; stir in heavy whipping cream and Bailey’s until fully incorporated. Refrigerate uncovered for at least 2 hours or until the mixture has hardened enough to handle.
Using a teaspoon or a melon baller, scoop the mixture into portions and roll into 1-inch balls using your fingertips. (This works best if you chill your hands in ice water before starting!) Place the portions on parchment. Once all have been shaped, roll the truffles in a shallow dish with cocoa powder to coat. Place on a serving platter or in a covered dish and refrigerate until ready to serve.
KEY INGREDIENT: Mirepoix is a mix of aromatic vegetables (traditionally onions, carrots, and celery) forming the base of many soups and stews. The Cajun version of mirepoix replaces carrots with zesty green bell pepper. Be sure to chop the vegetables finely so that they nearly melt away during the cooking time, flavoring the whole dish.
