This post was written in preparation for our September 2016 summer program.
“The Secret Life of Barns (Cedar)” by Ellie Harold, 2016 Collaborating Artist
For our Summer Fantasies concert, we invite you to join us in a colorful journey for the imagination as we visit the themes of summertime and all of its fantastical elements. In this series of brief articles, you can learn more about the pieces on the program; the composers who penned them and the events that inspired them.
Within our Summer Fantasies concert program, there are three pieces I’ve dubbed reveries. I refer to them this way primarily because reverie is an intentional nod to their French origins, but also because each was inspired by or intended to evoke a dream-like fantasy.
— Gabriel Pierné (1863-1937)
Though he was a talented and very active musician and composer in his day, much of the compositional output of Gabriel Pierné is seldom performed (at least internationally). Like many composers whose works bridged the late-Romantic and 20th century (e.g. Jacques Ibert), he wrote for many different genres and types of ensembles and this is perhaps why he never received long-lasting notoriety for any particular accomplishment.
His colorful Pastorale, composed around 1886, is a vivid example of Pierné’s mastery of the colors within the wind quintet. Beginning with a lyrical if not somewhat plaintive solo from the
oboe, we’re guided into the warm and lush pastureland of the French countryside. This theme is passed about freely between flute, oboe, and clarinet, while the horn and bassoon provide the unmistakable voice of the bagpipe’s drone.
This is a journey across fragrant and sunny pastures or even the Lake Michigan coastline, guided not by a particular sense of destination, but merely a yearning to wander and to feel the warmth of the sun and the embrace of a fleeting breeze that comes and goes.
— Claude Debussy (1862-1918)
Certainly a contrast from the nearly obscure Pierné, Claude Debussy is no stranger to concert programs. Although Debussy disliked the label of “Impressionist” being applied to his works, it is perhaps his association with this movement and his fascination with the musical elements it contained that has given most of his works lasting influence.
Much like the painters who were classified as impressionists, composers who became associated with impressionism often used moods and emotions as themes for their works. Similar to an artist skillfully using their pallete, a composer uses stark contrasts of color, texture, and timbre to blur the traditional framework of “melody vs. harmony” or “foreground vs. background”. The effect causes the viewer or the listener to focus attention on a larger perspective rather than small details.
Debussy dedicated his solo piano suite, Children’s Corner (1908), to his three-year-old daughter. Each movement is inspired by toys from Claude-Emma’s toy collection. For our concert, we’ve selected the final movement, “Golliwogg’s Cakewalk”, transcribed for wind quintet by Tom Kennedy.
On the surface, this is a colorful dance movement with very abrupt dynamic and tempo changes. But there are deeper historic and musical details within this seemingly simple movement.
When the movement was composed, Golliwogg dolls were very much in fashion due to the popularity of the series of children’s
books written by Florence Kate Upton (1873-1922). Golliwoggs were stuffed black dolls with red pants, red bow ties, and wild hair — a mimicry of black-face minstrels. Perhaps due to the fact that Upton did not trademark her Golliwogg character, the later free use of these characters as menacing villains and garish icons in literature and advertising has led to the modern perception of Golliwoggs as overtly racist against people of African descent.
A most detailed history of Golliwoggs can be found here — as part of the ongoing work of Dr. David Pilgrim at Ferris State University. When examining the Golliwogg character from an historic context, it’s difficult to see its beginnings as anything but racially insensitive at best. Debussy’s music being associated with a character that became purposefully demeaning to people of color is certainly unfortunate.
Meanwhile, the cakewalk itself is a product of black minstrel shows. Beginning somewhere in the mid-1800s, the dance was a parody of upper-class whites performed by black dancers as entertainment for white audiences. At the conclusion of the dance, the most elaborate dancer would be awarded a prize — a hoecake wrapped in a cabbage leaf. Gradually, the dance became a popular sensation regardless of the race of the dancers.
Debussy also embedded a bit of satire into the music by quoting Richard Wagner’s love-death leitmotif from the opera Tristan und Isolde. Each time this quote appears it is immediately followed by distinct banjo imitations — an immediate contrast between drama and mirth.
Despite negative associations and undertones of darker themes, Debussy’s piece has remained a concert favorite. At least
the murkier side of its origin has provided important discussion for students, teachers, and historians. Personally, rather than imagining the demeaning, clown-like dance of a Golliwogg, I imagine the energetic, boisterous play of children during a performance of this piece; what I imagine Debussy himself likely intended.
Our unique challenge as a quintet is to perform this piece with the precision of a single pianist’s 10 fingers rather than the 50 fingers belonging to the 5 individuals we are! The contrasts and abrupt changes are enough to make any ensemble flex their muscles.
— Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924)
While there are certainly more renowned French composers, it was Gabriel Fauré’s scholarship and teaching philosophy that freed French art music from its stubborn rut, paving a clear path between the Romantic era and the 20th century. When he was appointed head of the Paris Conservatoire in 1905, a crowning achievement of his life’s work, he rocked the boat considerably by broadening the curriculum of study — extending it well into ancient times as well as into very modern works which had been completely banned previously. His appreciation for a wide variety of music and intuitive compositional technique enlivened future generations of composers (e.g. Maurice Ravel & Nadia Boulanger).
Originally written for piano and chorus in the late 1880’s, the orchestral version of Fauré’s Pavane was premiered in 1887. During this period, his career as a composer was beginning to bring both modest income and (gasp) the extra-marital romantic entanglements which would delight, inspire, and torment him.
Appropriately, the choral lyrics lament the romantic helplessness of man. Fauré described the work as “elegant, but not otherwise important” little realizing it would become one of his most performed
pieces, inspiring similar works by Debussy and Ravel. The orchestral version is often performed with or without chorus and can also include dancers.
Manitou Winds’ performance of Fauré’s Pavane is based on the orchestral version of the work arranged for wind quintet by Tracy Jacobson. An unavoidable challenge facing wind players is the sheer necessity of breathing without interrupting Fauré’s long, enticingly chromatic phrasing. This breathing difficulty is complicated by the tendency for most orchestras to perform this work at a tempo much slower than the composer intended. The memory of these inspired performances tempts us to play more slowly than our lungs will allow. Meanwhile, we invite you sigh along with us, getting lost in Fauré’s light-hearted romantic daydreams.
The reverie-themed paintings in today’s article are from our collaborating artist, Ellie Harold’s studio. For more information about Ellie’s home studio and gallery and to view many more examples of her work, visit www.EllieHarold.com.
This post was written in preparation for our May 2016 spring program.
There’s an undeniable pleasure and pride that comes with reviving classic works written by the masters, but to select a piece of music which has little or no performance history and bring it to life presents a unique opportunity for the musician and the audience. Our May 1, 2016, concert entitled New Voices will be a program full of new music — all written within the past 20 years by living composers.
Compiling and researching the music for this concert has been a rich and rewarding experience for me and the members of Manitou Winds. Since the composers who created the music we’re performing are alive and well, we’re able to correspond with them, learn firsthand about their unique approaches to composition, and ask probing questions about their work. This more personal connection unlocks a new dimension of the musical experience.
“I did not sit down, one day, and decide I would write Three Narratives,” says Jason McKinney (b. 1979). “The piece just happened to come together during a very difficult time in my life.
The structure of the piece, the melodies inside the structure — these were all comforts to me, a way of coping.”
Three Narratives (for flute, clarinet, bassoon, and piano) tells of the composer’s very personal journey of coming out to his family and friends — a journey that led him through fear, self-hatred, and finally joy.
He began writing the piece in 1999 (originally scored for oboe, mezzo-soprano vocalise [no lyrics], and piano) and performed an early version as part of his 2001 junior recital. Still, Jason insists Manitou Winds’ performance on May 1st will be the true premiere. “I have revisited and revised the piece many times over the years — adding lines, refining sounds, creating entirely new sections. In many ways, it’s only now the piece I truly meant for it to be” he says. “I think I’m ready for the music to speak to other people who may be having similar struggles.”
Many of the composer’s favorite lines in the three-movement piece were conceived in one particular practice room of his university’s music annex. “I think a lot of people picture a grieved artist staying up all hours of the night, baying at the moon,” he says. “For me, it was usually early morning. I would wake up from a fitful night of sleep, grab a tall coffee, and make my way to my favorite piano long before classes were to start.” It was during these early morning solo piano sessions that the lines of each movement began to take shape. Jason eventually committed those lines to paper.
“Once I started putting the melodic lines onto the staff paper and sketching the underlying supporting material, I began to get the sensation that the music was something of a narrative — telling a story with characters coming and going with the
phrases,” he says. “I’d never written anything quite like it before and I’ve not since.”
Movement one, entitled “Once”, is dedicated to Jason’s mother, Brenda, whom he credits for his having been allowed to pursue music. “Mom not only encouraged us to succeed, she was a kind of force behind us.” he says. “She was determined we would have opportunities she missed out on. So, when I showed musical aptitude, she did everything she could to see that I had an opportunity to take lessons.” The movement also depicts Jason’s childhood and adolescent memories of musical exploration.
The joy of the first movement ends very abruptly without harmonic resolution, segueing into movement two, entitled “In the Dark”. Jason identifies its first melody as the theme of utter self-hatred. “It’s a melody without any real direction or resolution; persistent and unwilling to be ignored. The drone in the clarinet is like a ghostly reflection in a mirror.” The self-hatred Jason wrote about in his score was also being written down in his personal journals which he’d kept since early high school.
“For years, I’d prayed almost nightly that God would make me not gay anymore. I thought if I tried hard enough not to be gay, one day I would be rewarded and it would be completely erased. Eventually, I began praying that I would die — specifically, that I would not wake up the next morning. It was a prayer I said often for about three and a half years. Every sunrise was like a reminder that I was doomed.”
As the theme of self-hatred reappears in many forms throughout the movement, we hear depicted Jason’s struggle to move on with his outward life at university while his inner life was falling apart. He says it was his close friend, Amanda, who helped him eventually heal. “We talked for hours about our fears and our self-hatred. It was the first time I’d ever talked to someone who had the same ‘sickness’ as me.”
As the second movement nears its close, the composer’s anguish resolves into peaceful epiphany as the music shifts from a very discontented, climactic atonality to a relieved Eb major. “I don’t like to call it an epiphany, but it was like rays of light came tearing through the darkness I’d been wandering in for ages. In that moment, I knew the change I
needed to make was to stop trying to change — to stop hating myself. I’d been trying to go in the wrong direction,” he explains.
“Tired of asking why. Tired of reasoning… I was just hanging my head there in silence. And then, like reading for the first time words I’d overlooked a hundred times, a voice in my mind: You can’t be fixed because you aren’t broken. You are who you were made to be; stop trying to be someone you aren’t.“
Movement three, entitled “Turning”, depicts Jason’s eventual acceptance and coming out to his friends and family. Though the movement’s final theme was actually penned years before they met, Jason insists the music depicts the moment he met his husband, James. “I told him during our vows (five years later) that it was like that cheesy Savage Garden song: I knew I loved you before I met you, I think I dreamed you into life.”
“It’s strange that I don’t really journal much anymore. I used to spend hours writing in journals, unloading so many thoughts. I’ve tried picking it back up, but it somehow doesn’t seem to be necessary for me anymore. I guess it’s because my life is no longer ‘closeted’. I’m able to be honest with myself and this allows me to be honest with everyone around me. I don’t have to guard things behind the covers of a journal, scrawled in nearly illegible handwriting… or encoded in music.”
Can music tell a story completely independent of language? Our audience will be the judge of that when Manitou Winds premieres Three Narratives.
This post was written in preparation for our May 2016 spring program.
There’s an undeniable pleasure and pride that comes with reviving classic works written by the masters, but to select a piece of music which has little or no performance history and bring it to life presents a unique opportunity for the musician and the audience. Our May 1, 2016, concert entitled New Voices will be a program full of new music — all written within the past 20 years by living composers.
Compiling and researching the music for this concert has been a rich and rewarding experience for me and the members of Manitou Winds. Since the composers who created the music we’re performing are alive and well, we’re able to correspond with them, learn firsthand about their unique approaches to composition, and ask probing questions about their work. This more personal connection unlocks a new dimension of the musical experience.
Many composers have the uncomfortable (or some would say blissfully ignorant) task of writing music for instruments they do not themselves play. In terms of music written for full orchestra or wind ensemble, it’s especially understandable considering the number of instruments represented. The most successful of chamber music composers, however, often write music featuring at least one of the instruments they know intimately.
Such is the case with Bonnie L. Cochran (b. 1975) whose catalog of compositions explores the many voices of the flute.
Bonnie grew up in Georgia and began composing music around the age of 12, but did not formally study composition until attending college and university where she eventually studied with John Heiss, John Clement Adams, Larry Bell, and Ronald Byrnside. She earned her Bachelor of Arts in Music and Religious Studies from Agnes Scott College (Decatur, GA) and a Master of Music in Flute Performance from Boston Conservatory.
Perhaps the biggest impetus for her composing in recent years has been the formation of the Amaryllis Chamber Ensemble; an ensemble which she founded. The ensemble (a mix of violin, viola, cello, harp, and Bonnie’s flute) performs workshops and outreach programs as well as special events and concert appearances in and around the greater Boston area.
While searching for music for our New Voices program, finding Bonnie’s music was a happy surprise. The flute is capable of so many modern special effects and extended techniques (too many to list here!) that a large swath of modern flute music tends to explore these extra-musical sounds and effects rather than drawing the listener in with an intriguing melody. Bonnie’s music manages to be undeniably modern and yet unquestionably musical and so I knew her Suite for Flute & Piano (2003) would be an excellent fit for our concert.
The suite contains three movements and Bonnie says the melodies and especially the forms within the work evolved into their present form over the course of 6-8 years.
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.— William Blake (1757-1827)
Movement one (A Dying Rose) was inspired by Blake’s “The Sick Rose” — a text which Bonnie says both fascinated and haunted her from the moment she was first introduced to it. She says she originally intended the theme to be a piece for vocalist and piano however she gave into the urge to play it on her own instrument and so she can’t hear it any other way.
Movement two (Meditation) is “reflective in nature, a little sad, yet hopeful,” says Bonnie. Like many aspects of programmatic music, the colors and inflections of the harmony — though interpreted as exactingly as the composer penned them — can sometimes strike the performer or an audience member in different ways.
Sam Clark, Manitou Winds’ flutist, said that the title of “Meditation” originally seemed odd to her since the chromatic melodic lines drawn by flute seemed to suggest anxiety or distraction. Once she was in rehearsal with Susan Snyder, our guest pianist for New Voices, she realized the movement does reach a state of meditative peace in the last few measures with the aid of colors added by the piano.
In contrast to the more enigmatic and somewhat somber themes in the first two movements, the final movement of the suite (Little Dance) is “a light-hearted romp” according to Bonnie. While the first two movements of the suite explore the dark and breathy bottom register of the flute, the third movement travels higher and higher as the dance progresses. Sam and I agree that the third movement is both graceful and spontaneous — not unlike the dancing of an exuberant, young ballerina in training. Oh — and there is a surprise ending: one last flourish as the flutist graces up to a high A (the very highest note in the entire suite).
Three contrasting scenes combined into one fascinating little suite… we look forward to sharing Bonnie’s remarkable piece with our audience.
The table is set, the buffet dishes are in place, the napkins are neatly folded, the kitties are on their best behavior. It’s time for the Manitou Winds Virtual Potluck!
What better way to celebrate the swirling of snow and the chill outdoors than to surround yourself with music, friends, and a potluck feast? It’s okay to go back for seconds… I think I hear our last guest pulling up…
It’s Laura Hood, our horn player and our guitarist! One of Manitou Winds’ multi-instrumentalists, Laura adds a unique twist to all of our concerts with her versatility. But it does mean lugging around 2 or 3 instruments in addition to juggling so many other things!
Yes! It’s cold outside! “Winter is my favorite season of the year up here. I like being one of the ‘hearty ones’ that live here all year long,” Laura says. “I love the silence of a blanket of fresh snow — and I love to ski (all types: cross-country, skate, alpine, and tele)!” She’s quick to add, however, that scraping off the car first thing in the morning and dealing with the sometimes icy roads is not exactly a plus.
Although Laura was the second official member to join Manitou Winds, as the horn player she wasn’t able to actually attend rehearsals until a full quintet was formed which took some time and searching. There is not a lot of music written outside of quintets that matches horn with woodwinds. That first rehearsal was spent getting to know one another through our first few quintets. Since then, through research and Laura’s and Jason’s compositions and arrangements, we’ve been able to find more imaginative ways of including Laura’s musicianship.
Do horn players in particular ever feel like outsiders in a “woodwind group”? Not at all! Laura says the horn’s role in both woodwind and brass chamber groups sets it apart in many ways. “We are often asked to represent the heroic themes in music,” she says, “so a horn player must have some guts. But, we’re often asked to play the beautiful, melodic lines with the cello too… so a horn player also needs to have soul.”
“I think horn players are
often stereotyped as being a bit quirky but down-to-earth. I would have to say that’s me,” says Laura. Being a part of a chamber group allows for each musician’s unique qualities to emerge and be refined for the betterment of the ensemble. “With no conductor, we all must really listen to each other. It’s a wonderful communication through music that’s very special,” she adds. “After playing with the same group of musicians for a while, you begin to anticipate each other’s interpretation of the music in that very moment of performing. It’s just really cool.”
Although Laura loves Classical music, she enjoys a very wide variety of music outside the genre. In fact, she and her daughter Jessie make up two-thirds of an Indie-folk group they dubbed “Sista’ Hood & Joe“. The group is more or less on hiatus now that Jessie has started her undergraduate studies in Ohio as of this fall. Still, the group does reunite from time-to-time to raise money for worthy causes and for the love of making music together.
Laura and her husband Bruce (both educators at the nearby Leelanau School) live in an intentional community within the heart of Leelanau County. Apart from the serene surroundings living on more than 40 acres of farmland provides, she and her family produce and preserve quite a bit of their own food. “In the summer, we basically eat straight from the garden,” she says. “In the winter we make a lot of soups and stews.”
With their farm as a splendid backdrop, they usually make the most of the holidays and other breaks in the college schedule by having impromptu campfires and cookouts. With both children away at college and most dinners left to the grown-ups, Laura and Bruce find they eat most meals at home. “I’m actually the kitchen assistant,” she confides. “Bruce is a fabulous cook, and I am very happy to do all of the dishes!”
For today’s potluck, Laura’s brought a favorite from her family’s kitchen and garden…
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Spring Rolls
Serves 4
In addition to the ingredients below, you’ll find spring rolls allow for incorporating all sorts of leftovers. You can also bake or fry the rolls if you choose. Laura says, “My daughter and I like to invent different types of spring rolls. If we are home together for dinner, just the two of us, that is what we always make.”
2 14-ounce packages extra-firm tofu, drained
sesame oil or olive oil
6 cups shredded cabbage
2 cups shredded carrots
1-2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger
2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
24 spring roll wrappers
low-sodium soy sauce
wasabi
Thinly slice the tofu into strips as desired. In a large non-stick skillet, heat a small amount of oil; brown the tofu over medium heat, stirring occasionally. Remove tofu to a plate and set aside.
To the now empty skillet add approximately 1 tablespoon of oil; add the cabbage, carrots and minced ginger. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage is wilted and softened (approximately 8 minutes). Add the vinegar and stir until completely incorporated. Remove the cabbage mixture to a large bowl; wipe skillet clean with a paper towel.
Add a small amount of oil to the skillet, swirl it to spread evenly. Pour in the beaten eggs; swirl to spread evenly. Cook the eggs just until set. Using a spatula, roll the eggs into a cylinder and remove to a cutting board. Slice into thin strips.
Fill a large shallow pan with about an inch
of warm water. Working with one spring roll wrapper at a time, dip the wrapper into the water, allow excess water to drip off. Place the wrapper on a lightly moistened cutting board or work surface. Fill the top third of the wrapper with a small amount of the tofu slices, cabbage mixture, and eggs. Roll the wrapper over the filling once, then fold the sides over the filling and continue rolling until completely sealed. Continue with the remaining filling and wrappers. Serve immediately with soy sauce and wasabi.
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Looking for more recipes? Check out the other recent Woodwind Gourmet series:
Series I: Oboes, Oranges & Almonds