Category: Classical music

While exploring the early American films of William Dieterle, I came across a curious Stravinskyan artifact in the form of the 1934 murder mystery The Firebird. It is set in an upper-bourgeois milieu in Vienna. Ricardo Cortez, an exotically renamed son of Austrian Jewish immigrants, plays Hermann Brandt, a popular stage actor who moves into a building occupied by, among others, the well-to-do, conservative Pointers. The Pointers’ eighteen-year-old daughter is rebelling against the behavioral strictures imposed upon her, and one of her ways of acting out is to listen to a recording of The Firebird. As the “Danse Infernale” plays, the following dialogue ensues:

DAUGHTER: Mother, come listen to this! Isn’t it beautiful?

MOTHER: What is it?

DAUGHTER: The Firebird, by Stravinsky!

MOTHER: Where did you get it?

DAUGHTER: Alice gave it to me for my birthday.

MOTHER: It’s a good thing your father didn’t hear it. [Lifts needle from record.]

DAUGHTER: But, mother…

MOTHER: Darling, we don’t like you to play music of that kind.

DAUGHTER: Very well, mother.

MOTHER: If Alice’s mother doesn’t object to her playing it, well, people have different ideas nowadays. Maybe your father and I have remained old-fashioned. We feel that classical music is quite sufficient for a young girl. As for The Firebird, it’s fit only for savages.

DAUGHTER: But I don’t understand, mother…

MOTHER: You will when you’re older, darling. And don’t bother your head about it any longer.

DAUGHTER: Very well, mother.

It turns out that Brandt is also fond of The Firebird and uses it as a signal to attract a lover to his apartment. No points for guessing who this lover is. When Brandt is murdered, the local inspector must unravel the mystery, to which Stravinsky provides an important clue. The Firebird serves as the main-title theme and is heard in several other scenes. Since the music was at that time out of copyright in the United States, Warner Brothers paid no fee. I haven’t found any immediate evidence that Stravinsky was aware of the film, but perhaps it played a role in his eventual decision to prepare a new suite and thereby bring his score back under copyright protection.

In last year’s Advent Calendar i featured an arrangement of one of Ravel’s piano works by Boulez; this year i’m exploring one by UK composer Colin Matthews. Ravel completed his five-movement piano suite Miroirs in 1905. He subsequently orchestrated two of the movements himself, Une barque sur l’océan and Alborada del gracioso, and since then various others have stepped in to create orchestral versions of the other three. Colin Matthews‘ orchestration of the second movement, Oiseaux tristes (sad birds), dates from 2015.

Matthews’ approach is so intuitive and so effective, demonstrating such uncanny fidelity to Ravel’s original, that it’s hard to believe this isn’t how the music was always intended to sound. The small, gently playful opening is quickly weighed down by a heaviness that permeates everything. Ravel’s gorgeous suspended harmonies become even more achingly poignant in this context, particularly in light of the sprightliness that emerges soon after. We glimpse momentary hints of birdsong, lost in a boisterous acceleration of flurries and flapping that settle back into a languid, nocturnal dreamscape.

Not for long, though; the melancholy tune returns (Matthews adorning it with additional high chirps), its drone-laden weight making the following series of rising arpeggios sound like the dark reality to the light exuberant fantasy heard only a minute earlier. Though the conclusion eases off, turns gentle – and is again given more brightness than in the original – the work’s closing tilting chords are by now definitively a burden. For these sad birds flight is most definitely no longer an option.

The world première of Colin Matthews’ Oiseaux tristes took place at the 2015 Proms, performed by the BBC Philharmonic conducted by Nicholas Collon.

© Provided by San Diego Union Tribune
San Diego Symphony music director Rafael Payare (Nelvin C. Cepeda / The San Diego Union-Tribune)

Here’s an easy way to put a positive spin on what 2022 was like for San Diego’s classical music scene: compare it to the year before. The unpredictable, cancellation-riddled 2021 was a nerve-wracking challenge for music presenters, musicians and audiences alike.

This year, it’s true that some smaller or less established classical music organizations here struggled. Some have gotten back on their feet, thanks to COVID-relief programs, concerned donors and creative thinking.

Many classical-music organizations here have renewed their educational and outreach efforts, which are crucial to cultivating the interest in classical music and expanding the demographics of their audiences.

While classical music is built on — and justifiably reverent to — the works of dead White male composers, in 2022 local organizations included music by people of color and women, past and present. Hopefully, it’s a trend that will last.

Internationally, because of streaming services and increased listening activity during pandemic restrictions, classical music witnessed an uptick in popularity, including among millennials and Gen Z-ers. With luck, some will become concertgoers.

Choruses were hit especially hard by the pandemic. Singing in a mask is not fun.

So it was thrilling to hear the full-throated San Diego Master Chorale with the San Diego Symphony performing Verdi’s Requiem in October under the stars at The Rady Shell. Music Director John K. Russell told me that the chorale is in better financial shape than pre-pandemic. For the first time in its 61-year history, the choir has a full-time executive director in Jen Rogers, who formerly led Arizona’s Grammy Award-winning Phoenix Chorale.

In March, Bach Collegium San Diego presented “El Mesias,” its own Spanish-language version of Handel’s Messiah, here and at Centro Cultural Tijuana. Moreover, its indefatigable artistic director, Ruben Valenzuela, conducted Bach Collegium and La Jolla Symphony concerts on consecutive fall weekends.

The Sacra Profana choral group reported its audiences were a bit smaller than pre-COVID but are “more enthusiastic than ever.” The resilient troupe this month released its new CD, “A Longing For Christmas.”

La Jolla Symphony & Chorus went through a dramatic change this year with the retirement of Steven Schick, its music director since 2007. Schick’s distinctive fingerprints remain. As music director emeritus, he and chorus conductor Arian Khaefi put together the symphony’s 2022-23 season.

Schick brought an adventurous spirit, vast musical knowledge and a passionate advocacy for up-and-coming composers and musicians. LJS&C is conducting a search for his successor.

Also in La Jolla, Le Salon de Musiques is now well into its second season of intimate, French-style concerts. Like other presenters small and large here, it has faced rising costs.

Up the coast, the Carlsbad Music Festival’s board president Bryan Meathe told me the festival is financially stronger than pre-pandemic, thanks to COVID-relief funds and low overhead. But the 2022 edition shrank to one day from three and was held in November, rather than the traditional August.

Founded by musician Matt McBane in 2003, the festival had a national reputation for its eclectic mix of genres. McBane, artistic director of the festival since its inception, resigned earlier this year. The festival website has no reference to him as founder.

Meathe and the board hired a managing director and a talent buyer, but no artistic director. It’s encouraging that Meathe promised to resume classical music at next year’s edition. But given his apparent lack of interest in the cutting-edge and avant-garde music that set the festival apart, only time will tell if it will be a lesser or fuller image of its former self.

On the bright side …

La Jolla Music Society will have presented 49 concerts when its 2022-23 season concludes, up from 42 last year. They range from renowned pianist Daniil Trifonov to young saxophonist Jess Gilliam.

The society’s annual SummerFest achieved a record income of $407,008 in 2022, besting even pre-pandemic festival sales. Splendidly curated by SummerFest Music Director Inon Barnatan — who recently signed a new three-year contract with LJMS — the four-week festival reported a 36 percent increase over the number of tickets sold for the three-week SummerFest 2021.

The event brought together 100 artists, including such disparate performers as violinist Augustin Hadelich and singer Cécile McLorin Salvant. Almost 3,000 people attended the SummerFest Education and Outreach programs in those four weeks.

San Diego Symphony’s charismatic music director-conductor, Rafael Payare, had a banner year, leading the Montreal Symphony Orchestra, making his conducting debut with the New York Philharmonic at Lincoln Center and having his second child with his wife, cellist Alisa Weilerstein.

This calendar year, the symphony performed 20 indoor concerts at venues throughout the county and 14 open-air concerts at The Rady Shell.

The orchestra’s Shell season drew 148,961 attendees, 22,000 more than in 2021. Acclaimed pianists Emanuel Ax, Yefim Bronfman and Gabriela Martinez were featured. The symphony also hosted free events, including its inaugural FITFest day, Noche Familiar Night and weekly open rehearsals at The Shell.

Even before its successful June run at Del Mar Surf Cup Sports Park, Mainly Mozart has made pivoting an art. Led by Music Director Michael Francis, the dynamic all-star orchestra went back indoors for the first time since 2019. It performed works by Mozart and Ralph Vaughan Williams at the Del Mar Fairgrounds Events Center (a new venue now called The Sound).

Bodhi Tree Concerts’ “All Is Calm: The Christmas Truce of 1914” became a remarkable collaboration in mid-December with the New York City Opera. After presenting it here in November, Bodhi Tree’s Diana and Walter DuMelle produced four performances of this holiday-themed opera at a theater in Fairfield, Conn. Sacra Profana’s Juan Carlos Acosta served as music director and conductor.

La Jolla’s Athenaeum Music & Arts Library smartly named the talented musical duo of Kate Hatmaker (Art of Elan and San Diego Symphony) and Alex Greenbaum (Art of Elan and Hausmann Quartet) co-directors of its Barbara and William Karatz Chamber Concert Series.

Many other organizations — including UCSD ArtPower, Art of Elan, San Diego Early Music Society and Camarada — presented exciting programs throughout 2022. The relative calm of this year allowed classical music here to begin to flourish anew. It’s a hopeful sign for next year.

Wood is a freelance writer.

This story originally appeared in San Diego Union-Tribune.

Netflix’s hit series Wednesday is the latest adaptation of the iconic Addams Family franchise. It follows the eldest Addams child as she heads to Nevermore Academy, a mysterious boarding school for Outcasts. When she begins to unravel a deadly local secret, Wednesday joins forces with her new peers to discover the truth.

RELATED: Netflix’s Wednesday: The Best Quotes, Ranked

Wednesday has become one of Netflix’s most popular new shows, smashing viewership records in its first week. The series has also found success online, especially through TikTok trends and related music. The soundtrack of Wednesday is a unique key to its success, with a distinctive mix of contemporary pop, moody classical, and covers of iconic songs.

13/13 “Sciuri Sciura” By Blonde Redhead

Wednesday itself is a rather moody series, so it’s only natural that the music in it reflects this. “Sciuri Sciura” is an indie rock song from 1994 with clear punk and grunge influences. Xavier is listening to this song in episode six while working in his art studio out in the woods.

The song reflects Xavier’s tortured artistic personality and helps to convey the mood of the scene. Though the song is not the most iconic in Wednesday’s soundtrack, it is a great indie rock song.

12/13 “Four Seasons – Winter” Cover By Wednesday Addams

Classical music features heavily in Wednesday which helps lend the series some gothic style. One of the most prominent pieces of classical music is a composition from Vivaldi’s “Winter” which appears in the third episode of the series.

Wednesday Addams plays the composition as an explosion unfolds in Jericho’s town square, destroying the newly unveiled statue of Joseph Crackstone. The song itself is quick-paced and stressful and mirrors the chaotic energy of this scene. The cover used in the series has since been released on Spotify.

11/13 “Space Song” By Beach House

As Wednesday takes her place in the unveiling of Jericho’s new statue, the 2015 dream-pop hit “Space Song” plays in the background. Many viewers will recognize the song from TikTok, where it became a viral sound in 2021.

Its inclusion in the soundtrack is a clear nod to the series’ younger more online target audience. Despite its pop styling, the song is slow and atmospheric which helps to set the mood and transition from the darker tone of the previous scene.

10/13 “In Dreams” By Roy Orbison

Roy Orbison’s unique rock ballad, originally released in 1963, plays in the Addams’ car as Wednesday’s family takes her to Nevermore Academy in the first episode. This ballad, with its operatic elements and yearning lyrics, is sung by Morticia and Gomez to each other as Wednesday watches on in disgust.

It’s an effective way to reintroduce the audience to the sensuality of the loved-up Addams parents, as well as foster the discomfort everyone can relate to of seeing parents be overly affectionate.

9/13 “The Beginning” by Magdalena Bay

“The Beginning” by US synth-pop band Magdalena Bay plays during the Rave’n dance in episode four. Specifically, it plays in the scene where Enid and Lucas are talking about yetis only to then be approached by Ajax and his date.

RELATED: Why Wednesday Addams Has Been Heralded As A Queer Icon

Though it is only featured for a short time, this sugary electronic pop song is a great addition to the soundtrack and serves to reflect Enid’s sweet personality in this scene. Though Enid is more of a K-Pop fan, this song is also stylistically right up her alley.

8/13 “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” By Edith Piaf

This iconic French song from the 50s and 60s is one that audiences have probably heard many times before without realizing it. Translating to “No, I Do Not Regret Anything,” the song has been used in countless TV shows, movies, and advertisements over the years.

This song serves as the background music to Wednesday’s revenge on the swim team who were bullying her brother in the first episode. Its grandiose sound and appropriate lyrics, as well as Wednesday’s sheer enjoyment, make this scene a hilariously memorable one.

7/13 “Physical” by Dua Lipa

Another more upbeat song that features in the Wednesday series is “Physical” by disco-pop icon Dua Lipa, which plays as the final song of the night at the Rave’n dance. Though this scene ends in chaos as red paint is dumped on the Nevermore students and Eugene is attacked, the window of time that the song is heard in is a rare display of pure joy. For a brief moment, everyone is united in their delight at the dancing, the music, and being with their friends.

6/13 “Nothing Else Matters” Cover By Apocalyptica

This classical cover of Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” appears in the third episode of the series, as Wednesday delivers a monologue about coincidences and the goings-on at Nevermore. The song continues to play as the audience is shown various characters either beset by misfortune or involved in something potentially nefarious.

The grandeur and dark eeriness of this instrumental cover of the iconic 90s rock song is the perfect backdrop to this dramatic closing sequence and ties the musical elements of Wednesday together well.

5/13 “If I Be Wrong” By Wolf Larsen

As episode seven opens with the funeral of Mayor Walker, Wolf Larsen’s slow folk song plays behind Wednesday’s pondering monologue. The scene features emotional shots of all the suspects, as well as those of Wednesday’s closest friends.

RELATED: Netflix’s Wednesday: Easter Eggs Only Die-Hard Addams Family Fans Noticed

The pacing and mood of the song reflect the melancholy within the scene but also do well to articulate Wednesday’s determination to find the killer before anyone else is hurt. Even the lyrics are apt for the stakes Wednesday is facing, for she cannot afford to be wrong about this issue.

4/13 “Gnossienne No. 1” Cover By Dominik Luke Johnson

Another piece of classical music showcased in Wednesday is “Gnossienne No. 1”, originally by Erik Satie, which appears in the seventh episode. Wednesday listens to a classical guitar cover of the song as she writes her novel and ponders her recent visit to the Gates mansion and Enid’s absence.

The piece is slow, haunting, and melancholic which reflects the mood of the scene. Though it is entirely instrumental, it articulates a macabre kind of charm that perfectly encapsulates Wednesday’s spooky style and loneliness at this moment.

3/13 “La Llorona” By Chavela Vargas

Historically, Addams Family adaptations have steered clear of explicitly acknowledging the family’s Latinx heritage, however, Wednesday changes this for the first time. One clear reference is the iconic Mexican folk song “La Llorona,” which plays in the first episode while Wednesday is writing her novel in her dorm room.

Not only is the song relevant to Wednesday’s Mexican heritage, but it is also thematically significant. La Llorona means “The Weeping Woman” and is a reference to a figure in Mexican folklore. The weeping woman is a spirit who wanders along rivers searching for her drowned children.

2/13 “Goo Goo Muck” Cover By The Cramps

One of the most iconic scenes in Wednesday is the dance in episode four of the series. The choreography of this scene was composed by Wednesday actress Jenna Ortega herself and has since become a trend on TikTok. “Goo Goo Muck,” a 1981 punk cover of a little-known song from 1962, serves as the background music for Wednesday’s elaborate and unnerving solo.

Since the release of the series, “Goo Goo Muck” has gone viral, and Wednesday’s choreography has been covered and reproduced by countless fans online. Though the dance moves have been applied to other songs, most notably “Bloody Mary” by Lady Gaga, they still shine best in the original scene.

1/13 “Paint It Black” Cover By Wednesday Addams

Ranking at number one is Wednesday’s cover of The Rolling Stones classic “Paint It Black”. The song is played on the cello by Wednesday as she sits on the rooftop of Nevermore Academy. Several peers listen in as it echoes through the school grounds.

Though this song hasn’t gone as viral as others have, it has been popular enough that the Wednesday Addams cover version has since been released on Spotify. The artistry of the cover is technically very impressive, and it has all the best elements of the series rolled into one: haunting strings, punk-rock energy, and gothic intrigue.

Wednesday is available now on Netflix.

MORE: Netflix’s Wednesday: Things The Series Changes From The Addams Family Movies

SEASONS GREETINGS!

For Christmas Day i’m bringing my Advent Calendar to a close with one of the most wonderfully perverse orchestral works i’ve heard in recent years, Helmut Lachenmann‘s Marche Fatale. It began life as a piece for solo piano, premièred in 2017, and the orchestral version followed a year later (plus an ensemble version in 2020). Being someone whose musical passions are long-steeped in the music of Mahler – a composer who never went out of his way to incorporate marches into his symphonies and then subject them to all manner of embellishment and grotesquerie – i feel exceptionally comfortable in the company of Marche Fatale. Furthermore, anyone with even a slight awareness of Lachenmann’s fearless, irreverent musical language won’t find it remotely strange that a work like this should have come from his pen.

In his programme note, Lachenmann talks about banality, humour, and a resolve “to take the “absurd” seriously – perhaps bitterly seriously – as a debunking emblem of our civilization that is standing on the brink”. First of all, i’m not at all convinced that a piece like this wants, needs or benefits from a programme note at all. But more importantly, considering Lachenmann’s well-established musical attitude, i wonder whether the best thing to do with that quasi-(pseudo-?)programme note is to turn it on its ostensible head, and “take the “serious” absurdly”. Mahler’s marches become highly nuanced and emotionally-charged due to their broader narrative context; they’re never an end in themselves, but part of a much larger and more complex symphonic argument. Marche Fatale stands alone, and as such it speaks as a cross between an uproariously insane romp and a total travesty; any emotional subtext will, i suspect, say more about the listener and their outlook than the music itself.

Apropos: there’s an overt carnival atmosphere to the main march theme, to the point that it’s not far removed from circus music. Brass oom-pahs are everywhere; the bass drum pounds with the finesse and subtlety of a percussionist on their first day. In short, the orchestra is enthusiastic to a (very literal) fault; as a consequence the shift into a more lyrical episode is made via a downright messy transition, and the strings’ subsequent earnestness is articulated as a rising arpeggio that pushes itself way too far, becoming ridiculously high and shrill (with echoes of Pat Metheny’s equally mad ‘Forward March’).

It’s clear from this contrasting sequence that the sections of the orchestra have very mixed feelings about what they want to be doing. The percussion would like to stay boisterous (they don’t seem to know how to do anything else), and this general inconsistency of mood makes the lyricism untenable: for a time it’s as if we were jump-cutting between several different orchestrations of the piece. When the main march returns it’s held up by plunky and slithery asides, whereupon things get combative again, the oom-pahists coming to blows with the lyricalists.

Rather than resolve the fight, Lachenmann instead transforms the piece into a music box, though that only makes things worse: in response to such delicacy, all sections of the orchestra each roughly shove their way forward, leading to an overblown crescendo climaxing (if that’s the right word) in a prolonged contrabassoon fart. The conclusion could hardly be more of a mess: the main march gets going as a hobbled shadow of its former self, lolloping round and round over clumsy rhythms like a stuck record, whereupon there’s the promise of a Hollywood big ending, but this tilts sideways into glamorous romanticism (still no agreement about direction) before the whole things just collapses completely.

This performance of Marche Fatale was given in April 2019 by the German National Youth Orchestra conducted by Ingo Metzmacher.

Programme note

Marche fatale is an incautiously daring escapade that may annoy the fans of my compositions more than my earlier works, many of which have prevailed only after scandals at their world premieres. My Marche fatale has, though, little stylistically to do with my previous compositional path; it presents itself without restraint, if not as a regression, then still as a recourse to those empty phrases to which modern civilization still clings in its daily “utility” music, whereas music in the 20th and 21st centuries has long since advanced to new, unfamiliar soundscapes and expressive possibilities.
The key term is “banality.” As creators we despise it, we try to avoid it – though we are not safe from the cheap banal even within new aesthetic achievements.
Many composers have incidentally accepted the banal. Mozart wrote “Ein musikalischer Spaß” [A Musical Jape], a deliberately “amateurishly miscarried” sextet. Beethoven’s “Bagatellen” op. 119 were rejected by the publisher on the grounds that “few will believe that this minor work is by the famous Beethoven.” Mauricio Kagel wrote, tongue in cheek, so to speak, “Märsche, um den Sieg zu verfehlen” [Marches for being Unvictorious], Ligeti wrote “Hungarian Rock;” in his “Circus Polka” Stravinsky quoted and distorted the famous, all too popular Schubert military march, composed at the time for piano duet.

I myself do not know, though, whether I ought to rank my Marche fatale alongside these examples: I accept the humor in daily life, the more so as this daily life for some of us is not otherwise to be borne. In music, I mistrust it, considering myself all the closer to the profounder idea of cheerfulness having little to do with humor.

However: Isn’t a march with its compelling claim to a collectively martial or festive mood absurd, a priori? Is it even “music” at all? Can one march and at the same time listen?
Eventually, I resolved to take the “absurd” seriously – perhaps bitterly seriously – as a debunking emblem of our civilization that is standing on the brink. The way – seemingly unstoppable – into the black hole of all debilitating demons: “that can become serene.” My old request of myself and my music-creating surroundings is to write a “non-music,” whence the familiar concept of music is repeatedly re-defined anew and differently, so that “derailed” here – perhaps? – in a treacherous way, the concert hall becomes the place of mind-opening adventures instead of a refuge in illusory security. How could that happen? The rest is – thinking.

—Helmut Lachenmann

Full score

Terri and Bob Ryan aren’t just opera fans. The couple’s devotion to the art form is so strong you could say they live an operatic lifestyle.

Before you jump to any conclusions (insert “Tosca” joke here), they don’t sing conversations or make dramatic gestures as if onstage. Instead, the Ryans, both 73, have organized their lives in support of the music they love. In 1995, they even moved from their home near the City College of San Francisco campus to an apartment seven blocks away from the War Memorial Opera House so they could walk to the many performances they see each season. That proximity has also made it easy for them to host singers during their San Francisco Opera fellowships, or while performing in the company’s season.

“Some would call it obsessive,” Bob told The Chronicle. “But we tend to think it’s just the way things should be.”

The Ryans have been married for 50 years and have subscribed to the San Francisco Opera since 1974. They not only attend every production the company mounts, but also see multiple performances, sometimes bringing their own musical scores to follow along. Because of their annual and planned giving, they are also longtime members of the Opera’s Medallion Society and Bel Canto Society for donors. They also regularly attend Opera Parallele in San Francisco, West Edge Opera in Berkeley, West Bay Opera in Palo Alto and Opera San Jose.

“We’ve seen operas in Australia, we’ve seen operas in Canada, we’ve seen operas all around Europe,” Terri said. “San Francisco is certainly up there in the top tier of opera cities.”

If you were to run into them at a performance, the couple might not immediately seem like the archetypal opera patron. Far from the super-wealthy donors often seated in the boxes, Bob is a retired accountant for Pacific Bell (now AT&T) and Terri worked in data processing at Wells Fargo. They are generally casually dressed, and not usually interested in attending galas; although for the first time ever, they attended the Opera Ball in 2022 (in formal wear) for the company’s centenary.

The couple met at Occidental College in Los Angeles and married in 1972: Terri was raised in San Rafael, Bob grew up “all over the Midwest.” Bob’s love for classical music grew after playing violin in his high school orchestra. Early in their marriage, Bob took Terri to see a touring production of “Carmen” at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, but it wasn’t the instant love you might imagine.

“At intermission I said to Bob, ‘Is this any good?’ ” Terri remembered. “He said, ‘No! It’s a terrible performance.’ I said, ‘Oh good. I thought I didn’t like opera; it’s just this one I don’t like!’ ”

After moving to the Bay Area in 1973, they began attending the San Francisco Opera, whose performances Terri found much better. In the decades since, the couple have become so enmeshed with the company that in an email, general director Matthew Shilvock called them “exemplars of the community that is keeping great opera on our stage.”

“Terri and Bob define operatic passion,” said Shilvock, who frequently sees them greeting performers at the stage door. “They are part of the rhythm of San Francisco Opera and are there by our side in everything we do. They don’t just enjoy opera; they are a part of our family in making it come to life.”

Soprano Maria Valdes first met Bob and Terri during her time in the Merola program in 2013 and recalled them “introducing themselves to everyone on the program, and taking us to lunches and dinners after the performance.”

The Ryans kept in touch, and when Valdes returned to San Francisco for her Adler Fellowship in 2015, she stayed in one of the couple’s guest rooms.

“After a performance at 10, 11 at night, Bob would come to the stage door and walk me home,” Valdes recalled. She described the couple, who do not have children, as surrogate parents to many singers. (She plans to invite the Ryans to her upcoming wedding.)

Tenor Edward Graves lived with the Ryans in 2022. “When I found out I was accepted into the Adlers, it was quite late last year,” Graves said. “They gave me a room, we took all our meals together, and they would never accept a payment.”

Beyond offering housing, the Ryans also shared their vast knowledge of opera, the singers said, but did so without any of the elitism often endemic to classical music fandom.

That’s one of the things that struck me the most about the Ryans: In an art form that can sometimes feel ultra-exclusive, Terri and Bob are friendly, approachable and eager to share what they love. That’s how it should be, they said, for opera to continue to find new audiences.

“There’s visual art, there’s symphonic art, there’s vocal art, there’s stagecraft, there’s drama — there’s every art form represented on that stage,” Terri said. “There’s something for everyone.”

“Opera is about good, basic human emotions: love, hate, revenge, loyalty,” said Bob. “You don’t need to speak the language to figure out a lot of what’s going on onstage.”

One of my personal highlights of this year’s Huddersfield Festival was the performance of Justė Janulytė‘s 2020 work for 8 trumpets, Unanime. Composed for Marco Blaauw’s Monochrome Project, the piece exists in two versions: the first, with a single climax, lasts 15 minutes; the second, with two climaxes (one muted, one open) lasts 26 minutes. Janulytė’s output is typified by states of timbral-behavioural homogeneity – for this reason she describes her work as “monochrome” – in which the music continually teeters at a liminal point between stasis and flux. As such, a word like Unanime (unanimous) could well be applied to her work as a whole.

There are only two moments in Unanime that exhibit true clarity, the first of which is right at the start, as the trumpets put together a chord downwards, one note at a time. Yet as soon as the last note is added, that liminal quality manifests immediately. The chord bobs and hovers, undulating in the air, one moment diminished, the next major, or minor, or a 7th, or a flattened 9th, or something in between each of these and counltess other possibilities. This is harmony turned liquid, the inner arrangement of notes always flowing, all traces of certainty disappearing the same instant their existence is mooted.

The main change that takes place, and it’s subtle, is a slow alteration in the extent of the mutes, modifying their timbre slightly, sounding more shrill or nasal, tightening the texture so that it sounds more taut. At the same time, certain individual tones appear to protrude ever so slightly from the main textural body – though, as with everything else in the piece, the possibility that these could simply be imaginary is entirely plausible. Though ostensibly relaxing, the fact is that in Janulytė’s music neither the ear nor the brain is ever able to rest, slipping around over a surface that never quite comes into focus, remaining just beyond our power to resolve.

The other fact – which, considering how much of a constant conundrum the piece is, is quite remarkable – is that Unanime is stunningly beautiful. Both in terms of its internal process as well as its mesmeric external effect, this is music that could continue ad infinitum. As such, it makes sense that Janulytė (at trumpeter Marco Blaauw’s suggestion) subsequently made a second, longer version of the piece. Yet equally, almost any duration, even a shorter one, would work just as well, i think. Unlike process music (which Unanime definitely isn’t) or ambient music (which Unanime could be) it needs almost no time at all to start conjuring up its complex, illusory soundworld.

At its conclusion, the piece doesn’t exactly resolve but does finally arrive at its second moment of clarity, focusing the pitches into a perfect fifth. Perhaps it’s an effect caused by the previous 15 minutes’ aural conditioning, but i can’t hear it as a resolution. Its stability feels non-existent, poised to waver or slide or flow into something new even as it comes to an end. Even when the sound stops, the puzzle remains.

The world première of Unanime took place at the 2020 Wittener Tage für neue Kammermusik, performed by the Monochrome Project.

Programme note

In this piece the trumpet octet is treated as a single body, like the organ of different pipes sharing the same breath, the same soul.

—Justė Janulytė

In the classical music, jazz and dance world, the year 2022 may be remembered as the year Columbus-area arts organizations made a full pivot back to normal.

In contrast to 2020 and 2021 — years during which performances were canceled, reimagined in virtual form or otherwise limited due to the pandemic and its aftereffects — the past year has seen all of the major local groups resume their usual robust offerings.

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What follows is an overview of some of the most notable performances, guest artists and other events that took place in classical music, jazz and dance in the Columbus area over the last year.

BalletMet marked the beginning of the 10th season of Artistic Director Edwaard Liang with a program of evocative Liang-choreographed dances, “BalletMet at the Ohio,” in September at the Ohio Theatre. The season continued with the return of an old favorite, former Artistic Director David Nixon’s at once elegant and eerie “Dracula,” in October and November at the Riffe Center’s Davidson Theatre. The company just wrapped up its annual run of the holiday perennial “The Nutcracker,” also at the Ohio Theatre.

Also in the world of dance, the New Vision Dance Company launched the New Albany Dance Festival — a day-long event featuring student and professional dancers from numerous local and national groups, as well as classes and activities for attendees — in July at the Hinson Amphitheater in New Albany.

This year, the Columbus Symphony began the process of saying goodbye to longtime Columbus Symphony Chorus Director Ronald J. Jenkins, who will retire at the end of next season, by opening its season with Carl Orff’s cantata “Carmina Burana” in September at the Ohio Theatre. Jenkins’ chorus was also heard in a performance of Leos Janacek’s “Glagolitic Mass” in November, a concert that also featured guest organist Cameron Carpenter.

The symphony performed Picnic With the Pops throughout the summer at the John F. Wolfe Columbus Commons with accompanying artists, including the O’Jays, Christopher Cross and a certain marching band reputed to be the best in the land.

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Over the last year, the ProMusica Chamber Orchestra welcomed its usual impressive array of guest artists, including pianist Martina Filjak in May and cellist Kian Soltani in October, both at the Southern Theatre. The orchestra, which prides itself in performing in as many venues as possible throughout Greater Columbus, was also featured in March as part of the new Music at St. Mary’s Concert Series at St. Mary Catholic Church in German Village. Also in 2022, ProMusica was the recipient of a $1 million anonymous donation, a portion of which will go to the purchase of a violin for concertmaster Katherine McLin.

Both of Columbus’ opera companies offered surprising and refreshing productions during the last year: Opera Project Columbus presented works by Gian Carlo Menotti and George Gershwin in the style of an old-fashioned radio production in March at the Lincoln Theatre; Opera Columbus presented a rare opera appropriate for family audiences, “La Cenerentola” (which nearly everyone will refer to by its other name: “Cinderella”) in October at the Southern Theatre.

Among the numerous guest artists to be welcomed by the Jazz Arts Group was pianist Aaron Diehl, a Columbus native who as a youth played with the Columbus Youth Jazz Orchestra before going onto acclaim as a professional musician in New York. Diehl performed with his trio in October at the Lincoln Theatre. One of the JAG’s founders, Ray Eubanks, came out of retirement to give a concert in September at the Valley Dale Ballroom.

One of the Columbus area’s’ newest performing arts venues, the Hinson Amphitheater in New Albany, played host in August to actress and singer Renee Elise Goldsberry — a Tony winner for “Hamilton.”

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Among classical music organizations celebrating anniversaries this year were Chamber Music Columbus, which commemorated 75 years of inviting accomplished and upcoming chamber music artists to Columbus; and Urban Strings Columbus, which marked 15 years of nurturing the gifts of string musicians between the ages of 11 and 17 from underrepresented communities.

The year was not without losses in the classical music scene, including Columbus Symphony assistant concertmaster David Niwa, who died Sept. 1 at age 58. Beyond his own music-making, Niwa leaves the legacy of the Sunday at Central concert series, of which he was the artistic director. Sunday at Central will continue hosting concerts under the leadership of violinist Jeffrey Myers, an Upper Arlington native now based in New York.

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This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Year in review: Classical, jazz and dance groups rebound from pandemic