Month: April 2016

Song of the Day: April 29

In anticipation of our final NYFOS After Hours of the season next week, “Harry, Hoagy, and Harold,” we’ve asked our performers, young talents from the Juilliard School, to curate this week’s Song of the Day. Come out to see them at 10pm on Monday, May 2nd at HENRY’s Restaurant! Today’s entry is from tenor Gerard Schneider.

Paul McCartney – Junk

The song I have chosen for my submission is Junk from Paul McCartney’s 1970 self-titled album, McCartney. Originally considered for inclusion on the both The White Album and Abbey Road, this short and simple song features a sparse arrangement of acoustic and bass guitar, xylophone, and drums.

Written during Paul’s time with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in India, the song relates the loneliness and isolation of relationships, and the pain, memories, and emotions held by the material possessions of those couples – now ‘junk’.

Motor cars, handle bars
Bicycles for two
Broken hearted jubilee

Parachutes, army boots
Sleeping bags for two
Sentimental jamboree

Buy, buy says the sign in the shop window
Why, why says the in junk the yard

Candlesticks, building bricks
Something old and new
Memories for you and me

Buy, buy says the sign in the shop window
Why, why says the in junk in the yard

The melancholy lyrics instantly turn my mind to the now-famous six-word novel often attributed falsely to Ernest Hemingway:

For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Although I find myself struck with a great sense of sadness when listening to this song, I marvel at McCartney’s ability to imbue such human emotion into his depiction of otherwise mundane objects.

Paul McCartney’s great love for the song was such that he chose to include it not once, but twice on McCartney – once in the form discussed above and another on the B side as Singalong Junk. The arrangement of the latter differs greatly from Junk; removing the vocal entirely and replacing it with a piano melody, inserting a line for mellotron and featuring the drums more prominently. In both cases, Paul said this about the song:

“[I] wonder about why we leave things that were a part of our lives and replace them with others, because at the same time we leave memories attached with those objects, in a real metaphysical way…”

As I age and continue to learn my craft, I recognize that there are facets to this song still left for me to discover. And the most excellent thing about a song you truly love is that it can never be thrown away.

Song of the Day: April 28

Gabriel Kahane – Bradbury (304 Broadway)

Gabriel Kahane is somewhat of an inspiration to me – here we have a genius from a more traditional musical family who has paved a way for himself in a manner that seems to defy any traditional route of either classical or popular music, yet has found massive success in both fields while bridging the gap between the two. He has even written for NYFOS if I am not mistaken. This song cycle/album entitled “The Ambassador” is one of my favorite works of the last century – each of the 10 songs are imagined perspectives from different buildings in Los Angeles, and contain a variety of poetic verse, epic-style narratives, or re-imaginings of traditional material, as is the case in this song. The Bradbury Building is most famously featured in one of my favorite films, Blade Runner. The climax of Blade Runner occurs when (SPOILER ALERT) Roy Batty, the “villain” of the film (as well as an android) delivers one of the most beautiful monologues in the history of western civilization to Harrison Ford’s character. Harrison Ford at this point is clinging to the edge of the building while Batty holds a dove. Neon light surrounds them, and as he concludes his speech “All those memories will be lost in time, like tears…in….rain,” he releases the dove. This song takes this monologue as well as the imagery and plot points of Blade Runner and constructs a static portrait, sensuous in quality, of Kahane’s experience of the film and the building. There is nothing better for a rainy day.

Song of the Day: April 27

More so a performance of the day, rather than a song, “Joe” by the Alabama Shakes is a 3-minute earthquake of music making that I am absolutely honored to share with you all. This band has resonated with me for the past few months, quenching my alternative, bluesy rock thirst for the times when I want to momentarily step away from the classical and musical theatre worlds and seek inspiration elsewhere. Now, the music in and of itself is certainly special, but the thing about this performance that never fails to awaken my spirit is the dynamic lead vocalist, Brittany Howard.

The song begins calmly, with a soothing guitar line, a cool rhythmic tap on of the symbol and drum, an electronic piano harmoniously making itself known. Then you hear her voice. Androgynous in nature, almost in kinship with Nina Simone, her sound packs an incredible, velvety punch. You immediately understand that this woman has something important to say. Using traveling as a metaphor for hopping from bad relationship to bad relationship, Howard tells a classic unrequited love story in which the storyteller wants nothing more than for her love interest, Joe, to be hers and hers alone. She admits that she’s been all over the world and has experienced great success, but finds that without sharing it with Joe, she can’t be truly happy.

The lyrics are enough to pull at one’s heartstrings, but once you witness Howard’s soul bearing performance, you find that your jaw’s hit the floor and your emotions are pouring out onto the stage with her. It’s pretty darn easy to see why she was named Billboard’s 2015 Women in Music “Powerhouse” artist. The intensity she brings to the stage, while simultaneously maintaining finesse and class is my favorite thing about this woman. She can jive, scream, and twirl herself around the stage and then almost immediately lure you in with sweet and tender melodies. Press play and see what I mean! I hope this song gives you the inspiration it’s given me.

Song of the Day: April 25

The Day The World Turned Purple

When an icon passes there is the unavoidable sharing of their creations and outward expressions of nostalgia from fans across borders. In the 21st Century we share in the profound grief that fans face beyond word of mouth and radio broadcast but even more profoundly through social media, sources that allow us to recall or experience for the first time the insurmountable joy fans received from an artist’s work. As I scrolled through Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter and every other site this week I was faced with post after post of the gut wrenching truth that the world lost yet another an icon, one who’s influence went far beyond the boundaries of their craft and challenged preconceived notions about not only music, but style, race, and sexuality: this irreplaceable genius was Prince.

I had already written about a Shubert piece but after hearing Purple Rain pipe through my headphones for the tenth time as I lie in the middle of Central Park staring at the clouds I knew I had to change my course. If this is your first of fiftieth time hearing this song let it wash over you with open hearts and minds as the man who made this emblematic piece no longer exists with us but his art endures on.

A combination of rock, gospel and orchestral music, Purple Rain was a staple of Prince’s concert repertoire. A lone guitar starts the piece and is joined by drumming and an organ to set us in a gospel church mood. As the pared down musical summary of the same named film, this track follows the story of “The Kid” and his quest for reconciliation with three characters in his life. The first verse is dedicated to his father, then his ex-girlfriend (Apollonia), and then his band mates.

For decades fans have pondered the true meaning of Purple Rain and why Prince would embark upon such a radical, evocative song style. Prince himself said “When there’s blood in the sky, red and blue equals purple. Purple rain pertains to the end of the world and being with the one you love and letting your faith/god guide you through the purple rain.” Band mate Lisa Coleman said the song symbolizes “a new beginning. Purple, the sky at dawn; rain, the cleansing factor.”

Whether it was supposed to signal the end or beginning of an era, Purple Rain undoubtedly was a dramatic change for pop music and a definitive moment in Prince’s career. Re-translate “Purple Rain” as “Purple Reign,” and Prince’s royal connotations with the color purple throughout his career come to the forefront and further the belief that he was, and remains, an uncontested member of musical royalty. Allow yourself to journey through the entire Purple Rain album, venture on to Sign o’ The Times and then Dirty Mind. Recapture the powerful hopes and emotions that his music and performances stirred up from within us in our youth and now today as adults. Remember our incomparable Prince.

Song of the Day: April 22

This week, soprano María Valdés curates Song of the Day. She will perform with NYFOS next Tuesday, April 26th, in Compositora: Songs by Latin American Women, alongside baritone Efraín Solís. She is a recent alumna of the Adler Fellowship at San Francisco Opera where she sang and covered several roles. Her performance with NYFOS will mark her New York recital debut.

Stravinsky – No Word From Tom – Laura Claycomb

In order to end this week on a high note, I bring you Laura Claycomb singing “No Word from Tom” from Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress. This is one of my favorite arias to sung by one of my favorite sopranos. There are so many things that make this piece wonderful, but my favorite is the orchestration. I was privileged enough to perform this with the San Francisco Opera orchestra during my time as an Adler Fellow. It always amazes me how singing with an orchestra changes my experience of a piece. I feel completely surrounded and supported by sound. And each melody has a character and personality of its own. My favorite in this piece is the bassoon. Its haunting timbre really sets the night scene. The brightness of the staccato strings illustrate Anne’s nervous energy. This except is from the Robert LePage production at Théâtre de la Monnaie in 2007. l love it most because of its perspective. It creates so much depth on the stage, making Anne seem far away from the house as she anxiously decides to go after her true love, Tom Rakewell. Laura Claycomb masters the technical hurdles this piece presents. She shows Anne’s conflicting emotions in her interpretation of the contrasting segments of the aria—something that is difficult to pull off!

It’s been a great pleasure to share some of my favorite music with you this week. Now onto NYC to begin rehearsals for “Compositora.” If you’re in the area, please join me at Merkin Hall on April 26th at 8 pm.

Song of the Day: April 21

Mozart – Et incarnatus est- Barbara Bonney

Mozart’s C Minor Mass was my first professional job. I was very excited (and nervous) to perform this piece at the Bellingham Festival of Music in Washington. Unfortunately, before the gig I came down with a killer case of pneumonia and wasn’t able to sing for a month. With only a couple weeks left until rehearsals began, I slowly attempted to get back into shape. During my first coaching—this is hilarious now but mortifying at the time—I was singing this and half way through collapsed onto the piano. My lungs just couldn’t expand enough to prepare for the long phrases. Luckily for me, I recovered soon after and had a successful performance in the end!

Now, this aria is difficult on its own, but it comes at the very end of a LONG sing. I remembered having a sense of impending doom when the orchestra began. I’m sure many of my singer friends can relate when I say that the maestro inevitably took the slowest possible tempo. I thought to myself, how can I ever do justice to this exquisite composition? How will I make it through? But when the strings swelled before my entrance it was smooth sailing from there. That’s because this piece has a way of making time stand still. It kind of feels like being wrapped in a soft blanket and being placed on top of a cloud. Mmmmm.

Barbara Bonney definitely takes us to that place in her interpretation. There is nothing showy about her delivery, even as she effortlessly glides through the technical challenges this piece presents. Her voice becomes an instrument and the instruments become voices, culminating with a call and response duet between the soprano and oboe.

I hope you all enjoy this idyllic setting of “Et incarnatus est.”

Song of the Day: April 20

Devil Got My Woman- Skip James

When I was about 20, I became very interested in early American music after being introduced to Alan Lomax. Lomax was an American folklorist and ethnomusicologist. He collected thousands of field recordings for The Archive of American Folk song at the Library of Congress. Without the work of Lomax and and his contemporaries, much of the popular music we have today would not have developed.

I would spend hours listening to his discography. There was something so refreshing about hearing music that wasn’t produced in a studio. Lomax would just go into someone’s home and ask them to play a couple of songs. There were mistakes and there was laughing and talking. Sometimes it was 45 minutes of intolerable wailing when, suddenly, you’d stumble upon something breathtaking. One such breathtaking discovery was Skip James.

Mr. James takes us back to 1931 to give us today’s song, “Devil Got my Woman.” It’s one of those songs that sticks to your soul. ‘Been tryin’ to shake it for years and it just won’t quit!

P.S. Listen for how different the guitar accompaniment is from the vocal line. How does he do that???

Song of the Day: April 19

Today’s song is brought to you by Joanna Newsom, one of my ALL-TIME FAVORITE singer/songwriters. (Please forgive the exclamation…!) She has carved a very special niche in the folk music realm. Though she doesn’t identify with any particular genre, some have coined her as one of the founding artists of the “freak folk” movement. As usual, the nomenclature gets a bit sticky (but I’m a nerd for this kind of thing so I indulge it). In a nutshell, the genre is characterized by acoustic instruments, pastoral themes, early American folk and avant-garde music. Basically, it is weird and kind of indescribable, but you will totally understand once you hear it.

“Monkey & Bear” is from the album Ys (2006). It is a ten minute song on the album and can be 20 mins+ live. It is a creation story about one of the Ursa constellations. A performing bear, Ursala, searches for freedom in the face of a duplicitous monkey overlord. Luckily, the bear escapes, teaching us a valuable lesson.

Here are the lyrics (you’ll need them!):

Down in the green hay,
where monkey and bear usually lay,
they woke from a stable-boy’s cry.
He said: “someone come quick —
the horses got loose, got grass-sick —
they’ll founder! Fain, they’ll die.”

What is now known by the sorrel and the roan?
By the chestnut, and the bay, and the gelding grey?
It is: stay by the gate you are given.
And remain in your place, for your season.
And had the overfed dead but listened
to the high-fence, horse-sense, wisdom…

“Did you hear that, bear?” said
monkey, “we’ll get out of here, fair and square
they left the gate open wide!

“So, my bride.

“Here is my hand. Where is your paw?
Try and understand my plan, Ursala.
My heart is a furnace
full of love that’s just, and earnest.
Now.
You know that we must unlearn this
allegiance to a life of service,
and no longer answer to that heartless
hay-monger, nor be his accomplice —
(the charlatan, with artless hustling!)
But Ursala, we’ve got to eat something,
and earn our keep, while still within
the borders of the land that man has girded,
(all double-bolted and tightfisted!),
until we reach the open country,
a-steeped in milk and honey.
Will you keep your fancy clothes on, for me?
Can you bear a little longer to wear that leash?

“My love, I swear by the air I breathe:
Sooner or later, you’ll bare your teeth.

“But for now, just dance, darling.
C’mon, will you dance, my darling?
Darling, there’s a place for us;
can we go, before I turn to dust?
My darling there’s a place for us.

“Darling. C’mon will you dance,
My darling?
The hills are groaning with excess,
like a table ceaselessly being set.
My darling we will get there yet.”

They trooped past the guards,
past the coops, and the fields, and the
farmyards, all night, till finally,

the space they gained
grew much farther than
the stone that bear threw,
to mark where they’d stop for tea.

But,
“Walk a little faster,
don’t look backwards —

“your feast is to the East, which lies a little past the pasture.

“When the blackbirds hear tea whistling they rise and clap.
Their applause caws the kettle black.
And we can’t have none of that!
Move along, Bear; there, there; that’s that.”

(Though cast in plaster,
our Ursala’s heart beat faster
than monkey’s ever will.)

But still,
they have got to pay the bills.
Hadn’t they?
That is what the monkey’d say.
So, with the courage of a clown, or a cur,
or a kite, jerking tight at its tether,
in her dun-brown gown of fur,
and her jerkin of
swansdown and leather,
Bear would sway on her hind legs;
the organ would grind dregs of song,
for the pleasure
of the children who’d shriek,
throwing coins at her feet,
then recoiling in terror.

Sing, “dance, darling.
C’mon, will you dance, my darling?
Darling, there’s a place for us;
can we go, before I turn to dust?
My darling there’s a place for us.

“Darling.
C’mon, will you dance, my darling?
You keep your eyes fixed on the highest hill,
where you’ll ever-after eat your fill.
O my darling…dear…mine…if you dance,
dance darling and I’ll love you still.”

Deep in the night
shone a weak and miserly light,
where the monkey shouldered his lamp.
Someone had told him the
bear’d been wandering a fair piece away
from where they were camped.
Someone had told him
the bear had been sneaking away,
to the seaside caverns, to bathe;
and the thought troubled the monkey,
for he was afraid of spelunking
down in those caves.
Also afraid what the
village people would say,
if they saw the bear in that state —
lolling and splashing obscenely
well, it seemed irrational, really,
washing that face;
washing that matted and flea-bit pelt
in some sea-spit-shine —
old kelp dripping with brine.
But monkey just laughed, and he muttered,
“When she comes back, Ursala will be bursting with pride —
till I jump up!
Saying, ‘You’ve been rolling in muck!
Saying, ‘You smell of garbage and grime!’”

But far out,
far out,
by now,
by now —
far out, by now, Bear ploughed,
Because she would
Not drown:

First the outside-legs of the bear
up and fell down, in the water, like knobby garters,
Then the outside-arms of the bear
fell off, as easy as if sloughed
from boiled tomatoes.
Low’red in a genteel curtsy,
bear shed the mantle of her
diluvian shoulders;
and, with a sigh,
she allowed the burden of belly to drop,
like an apronfull of boulders.

If you could hold up her
threadbare coat to the light,
where it’s worn translucent in places,
you’d see spots where,
almost every night of the year,
Bear had been mending,
suspending that baseness.

Now her coat drags through the water,
bagging, with a life’s-worth of hunger,
limitless minnows;

in the magnetic embrace,
balletic and glacial,
of bear’s insatiable shadow —

Left there!
Left there!
When bear
Left bear;

Left there,
Left there,
When bear
stepped clear of bear.

(Sooner or later you’ll bury your teeth)

Song of the Day: April 18

Letter to a Lover (Gabriel Kahane with Brooklyn Rider)

Today’s Song of the Day is brought to you by Gabriel Kahane, one of my favorite up-and-coming composers. His works have been lauded by the classical music scene as well as the pop world, having been performed at symphony halls and rock venues alike. His album The Ambassador , for instance, was acclaimed by Rolling Stone Magazine as “one of the year’s very best albums.”

He is joined by a group of similar prestige, Brooklyn Rider. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette describes them as “four classical musicians performing with the energy of young rock stars jamming on their guitars, a Beethoven-goes-indie foray into making classical music accessible but also celebrating why it was good in the first place.”

I think artists like these are essential to continuing the classical tradition. They offer a solution to our constant efforts to keep classical music welcoming to and relevant to new audiences.

I’ve chosen to share a piece from Gabriel Kahane’s LP, The Fiction Issue. It tells the story of a man (presumably) going to pick up his girlfriend from the airport. The text is forthright but still maintains poetic integrity with its vivid imagery. This quality is typical of Kahane. He talks about everyday experiences, whether mundane or extraordinary—something we can all relate to.

For more information about Gabriel Kahane, follow him on Tumblr or buy his music at

http://www.gabrielkahane.com
http://www.gabrielkahane.bandcamp.com

And visit Brooklyn Rider’s website at
http://www.brooklynrider.com

Song of the Day: April 8

This week’s Song of the Day is curated by mezzo-soprano Sarah Nelson Craft, who is currently the Program Administrator for NYFOS (until Claire Molloy returns from maternity leave!). As a performer she was most recently presented by Carnegie Hall in a solo Spotlight Recital with pianist Warren Jones as part of The Song Continues. She has also been heard as a soloist at venues such as Avery Fisher Hall, Alice Tully Hall, and the Caramoor Festival.

I briefly considered continuing to worship at the altar of my mezzo-soprano idols as I have been doing here over the last several days (Oh, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, Frederica Von Stade, don’t think I have forgotten you!) And I was so close to featuring Handel, because I think he wrote the most beautiful melodies on the planet, and I’d love to pay homage to that musical era, which is very close to my heart. And I also thought of my dear Ella Fitzgerald… and Patsy Cline… neither of whom I wanted to neglect (I swear there are some male singers I admire, too!). BUT I decided that for day #5 instead of bringing you an old favorite, I’ll share something that is a newer discovery for me, and something that might be brand new to you.

I admit to not being that up on my jazz – I have a few great albums that I got in high school that I’ve listened to many many times over the years (Thelonious Monk, John Coltraine, Miles Davis, Dave Brubeck, and several Ella CDs), but my knowledge of the genre is far from thorough. Since I tend to be partial to jazz that’s on the traditional side, I’ve always really liked everything I’ve heard from Duke Ellington, but I had no awareness of the music he wrote for classically trained singers!

I was introduced to it when soprano Candice Hoyes unearthed a whole album’s worth of Ellington rarities for her debut album, On a Turquoise Cloud, in 2015. This track, “Heaven,” is from Ellington’s Sacred Concerts, which the composer called “the most important thing I’ve ever done.” It premiered right here in New York in 1968 at St. John the Divine Church, but no recording of this has surfaced. It’s hard to believe this Harlem gem was little known, but it’s very exciting that a singer of my generation has chosen to interpret it!

Hoyes is made to sing this repertoire – she has the soprano chops to soar into the stratosphere as well as the style and range to pull off the soulful jazzy low notes. I knew her as a high operatic soprano (I’ve had the joy of singing opera and art song repertoire with her many times), so when I went to hear her sing jazz at Minton’s in Harlem for the first time, I was blown away! Her cool, confident performance would have made Ellington proud, I have no doubt.

Hoyes’ recording of this song really captures the soul, beauty, and versatility of Ellington. I love how she employs such a variety of vocal colors, and I love how the arrangement builds and ends with her super soprano-y riffs! This song (and her album in general) is so soothing and dreamy, not to mention that it’s a really cool aspect of New York song history. Enjoy!

It’s been such a treat to write for the NYFOS blog this week. Thanks for going on this journey with me!