PROGRAM NOTES
Shelley Washington (b. 1990), Say for String Orchestra, arr. Washington
In SAY, Shelley Washington explores one of the most complex aspects of being: identity. Who are you? Who do others say you are? Who gets to decide? Speaking from her own experience as a person of mixed race in 21st century America, Washington shines a bright light on the myriad of complicated emotions through a poem that prefaces the score. It is preceded by a dedication to “all lives lost through hands of misconception, and to all the lives safe at home who face challenges without question, dedicated to our history, and our future which is brighter, dedicated to those who taught me to always be a fighter.”
Emphasizing that our experiences are embodied, that what we look like, the sounds of our voices, and the regional or cultural accents we are perceived as having, influence or change the way others interact with us, Washington writes extensive passages highlighting the body through making it a dominant percussive element throughout the music. Utilizing the power of text, the performers rhythmically speak in short, direct, phrases that ask us to reflect on ways we encounter others in the world, pause to consider the reality of others, and exhort us to speak up. Musically, the work is dotted with sections strongly reminiscent of the sing-song play tunes of children’s playground games—an arena where our earliest memories and confusions about identity are often formed—juxtaposed with reflective, lyrical passages, and dense contrapuntal passages.
Text by Shelley Washington:
Say it high
Say it low
Sing it fast
Sing it slow
Who are you
Who am I
We don’t get to decide
Should we get
Can we get
Who should get to decide
We don’t get to decide
Freedom in
Freedom out
Tell me when
Land of doubt
Say it high
Scream it low
Power comes
Power goes
Say it loud.. I’m
What’s it like growing up
Who were you growing up
White in America Black in America
You in America
I in America
Place of Peace
Appalachia
Land of God
Promised Land
Who is safe?
Who protects?
“Be yourself”
But you can’t
Tell me who I should be
I can be
If I want to be free
Cost of pain culture wars losing hope gaining hope
Broken down to the core
Say it loud... I’m
The Lost
I am...
Say the name
Say the hate
Say the love
Say the point
Say the Who
Say the pride
Who are you
Who am I
Say it loud
I’m
You are...
Aaron Copland (1900-1990), Appalachian Spring Suite for 13 Instruments
The creative partnership of Aaron Copland and Martha Graham was, in many ways, ideal, with both exploring core aspects of the human experience—context, community, and self—through boldly creative expression. Graham observed of her aesthetic, “I wanted to begin not with characters or ideas, but with movements... I wanted significant movement. I did not want it to be beautiful or fluid. I wanted it to be fraught with inner meaning, with excitement and surge.” Along similar lines, Copland said of the sound he crafted for Appalachian Spring, “I felt that it was worth the effort to see if I couldn’t say what I had to say in the simplest possible terms.” These preoccupations with paired down, unadorned, raw, and sometimes bracing, depictions of emotions and spaces found a perfect narrative container in the rural, pioneer lifestyles set against the North American landscape.
Appalachian Spring was made possible through a commission from arts patroness Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge for her concerts of contemporary music and dance at the Library of Congress (Stravinsky’s Apollon Musagète, a ballet in two scenes, was another product of the Coolidge commissions). The narrative of the ballet was described by Copland in its f irst publication as follows:
A pioneer celebration in spring around a newly built farmhouse in the Pennsylvania hills in the early part of the last [nineteenth] century. The bride-to-be and the young farmer-husband enact the emotions, joyful and apprehensive, their new domestic partnership invites. An older neighbor suggests now and then the rocky confidence of experience. Arevivalist and his followers remind the new householders of the strange and terrible aspects of human fate. At the end the couple are left quiet and strong in their new house.
The premiere took place on October 30, 1944, in Coolidge Auditorium at the Library of Congress, as World War II continued to wreak destruction across the globe. One year later, Appalachian Spring earned Copland the Pulitzer Prize in Music. Following a traditional practice among composers who write for theater or dance, Copland crafted a musical suite from the ballet score and produced several arrangements for large and small size ensembles. These arrangements have found popularity entirely apart from the ballet, establishing Appalachian Spring as one of Copland’s most beloved and recognized works. Throughout, the music of Appalachian Spring channels feelings of expansiveness and possibility. In particular, the Shaker hymn “Simple Gifts,” which Copland incorporated into the score, has, much like Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” entered the public consciousness as a cherished source of communal ballast and hope
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) Symphony No. 6 in F Major, Op. 68 (“Pastoral”), arr. Michael Gotthard Fischer
Almost from the moment he moved to Vienna in 1792, to study composition with Franz Joseph Haydn, Beethoven captivated the tastemakers of the town. With his wild looks, untamed personality, and unconventional, aggressive pianistic sound paired with undeniable talent—was a top candidate to be the next big thing. Subsequently, he had no trouble finding a series of patrons—even several at once. The aristocracy jostled for the bragging rights of having supported the creation of exciting new works, and at times the competition became so fierce that many families went into tremendous (even ruinous) debt trying to outdo their neighbors. Thanks to this outpouring of enthusiasm Beethoven’s music was soon printed by at least five of the music publishers in town. Carl Czerny, who would become one of Beethoven’s most famouspupils, confirmed the composer, “received all manner of support from our high aristocracy and enjoyed as much care and respect as ever fell to the lot of a young artist.”
In addition to patronage, artists in the 19th century sought opportunities for both income and greater visibility through benefit concerts, collecting the ticket sale revenue from the evening. These opportunities could be difficult to book, and in Beethoven’s case it took multiple tries, but he was finally given a date at the Theater an der Wien: December 22, 1808. The program Beethoven put together for the evening was of stunningly epic proportions, giving ticket holders four hours of new music. It included the Symphony No. 6, a concert aria and a movement from his Mass in C major, and the Piano Concerto No. 4 (with the composer as soloist) for the first half. Starting the second half of the concert was the Symphony No. 5, another movement from the Mass, some improvisation, and f inally the Choral Fantasy. While the experience was exciting, it was also a bit of a slog. Johann Friedrich Reichardt, guest of Prince von Lobkowitz, one of Beethoven’s patrons attended the concert with composer, famously reflected, “There we sat, in the most bitter cold, from half past six until half past ten, and confirmed for ourselves the maxim that one may easily have too much of a good thing.”
That night, the first sounds the audience heard floating through the chilled air of the hall were those of the Symphony No. 6, nicknamed the “Pastoral,” evocative of warmer, sunnier days. The work was a unique departure from the composer’s previous symphonic works because it was organized with programmatic content. Each movement contains a preambular sentence, describing a specific scene or emotion, yet strives to reach beyond the picture-painting. A surviving first violin part used at the premiere was inscribed with the direction, “more an expression of feeling than tone-painting.” It is unclear if the musician was writing down something Beethoven said, or making his own mental note in the margins, but it provides us with a key glimpse at the original interpretive instruction. The opening movement characterizes the “Awakening of cheerful feelings uponarriving in the country,” a sensation Beethoven knew well, as he frequently sought comfort and encouragement in nature. After the frolicking and joyful opening, the second recalls a “Scene by the brook,” flowing placidly with an insertion of birdcalls that acts as a kind of warbling cadenza. Next, we happen upon a dance among a “Merry gathering of peasants,” which is suddenly interrupted by a raging storm, complete with multiple strikes and claps of lightning and thunder. As the bad weather dissipates, we once again hear birds, and the “Shepherd’s song—cheerful and thankful feelings after the storm,” bringing the work to a happy ending.
Kathryn J. Allwine Bacasmot is a pianist/harpsichordist, musicologist, music and cultural critic, and freelance writer. A graduate of New England Conservatory, she writes program annotations for ensembles nationwide.
