Category: Classical music

This year’s composer in residence at HCMF, Lisa Streich, was represented by an appropriately large number of performances, allowing for a pretty deep dive into her musical thinking. If i say that a lot of what i heard of Streich’s music was more intriguing than immediately enjoyable, i need to qualify that straight away by pointing out that many of my now greatest musical passions began in exactly the same way: intrigue, being pulled into its orbit, compelled to consider, listen again, and go deeper. All the same, while she was never exactly boring, the occasions when it seemed as if Streich transcended the increasingly familiar boundaries of her language – typified by a predilection for stark polarities – were relatively few, though strikingly impressive.

Among the most interesting of them was FRANCESCA, given its UK première by Riot Ensemble, though one of the primary reasons for its interest was they way it seemingly deliberately went in the opposite direction of what one expected, if Streich’s programme note is to be taken at face value. Supposedly, it was concerned with Francesca Romana, the patron saint of Rome, attempting to imagine the “choir of cherubs” she heard on her deathbed. Yet everything about the piece suggested not only a different Francesca but a completely opposite context: Francesca da Rimini, lurking in the rings of Dante’s Inferno. However, this apparent inversion of expectation and meaning wasn’t in any way problematic; as it was, its diabolical soundworld filled with blank repetitions, fragile chords, harsh, shrill impacts and dull monotony suggested something a lot more true to the drudgery of religion than the kind of “idealised, heavenly, beautiful conception” Streich also mentioned in her note. In that respect, FRANCESCA was a work of raw honesty, like an extended moment of horrifying realisation at the literal moment of death. Though somewhat overlong, the work was nonetheless superbly engaging in its coalescing of fantastical and unhinged elements, playing out in a world characterised by continual close proximity extremes.

The same concert featured two excellent works from Ukrainian composer Anna Korsun. The first, Plexus, contained a musical texture not merely busy but positively frantic, continually shifting so rapidly as if life depended on it. Over time my attention felt more and more drawn away from this ear-catching activity to question what might lie below this delirious surface, what it was that was impelling this behaviour. i was still mulling over the possibilities and implications of this when the music passed through a series of curious rising scales, and ended.

Just as captivating was Spleen, a work of total contrast comprising a single, extremely slow line with some sounds falling away from it, others buzzing around, as if drawn to it like a magnet. This swarm activity subsequently took on a darker hue, becoming vague and harder to read, the pitch focus all but gone. As with Plexus, the piece presented fascinating outcomes that left one deeply curious about their origins; at just 11 minutes it was over far too soon, i could have happily listened to a lot more of this.

Lisa Streich’s music was heard at its best in Riot Ensemble’s second concert on Tuesday evening, which was surprisingly small-scale and intimate despite being held in the incongruously huge space of Huddersfield Town Hall (there had evidently been a plan for us to move around the hall according to a number of planned pathways, but this was abandoned). Of the five works performed, Sai Ballare? (Can you dance?) was especially effective, bringing together a motorised cello (unplayed but with a small motor attached to it, rotating pieces of paper over its strings – a device Streich used in many of her pieces), violin and piano. It demonstrated a low-key version of Streich’s fondness for polarisation, setting up gentleness and delicacy from the violin that was repeatedly undermined by loud pedal thumps from the piano. Over time it gave this combination gave the work a sombre fragility, those thumps resembling a muffled drum, which made the violin’s eventual, completely unexpected, frenzied outburst all the more shocking and traumatic.

In some respects, Streich’s shorter solo work Cadenza for motorised piano made an even stronger impact. Though ostensibly emotionally blank, it was weirdly moving, Adam Swayne’s actions enhanced by the odd little machine mechanics, whirring and clinking like a wound up music box teetering at the point of coming to a stop. It was achingly poignant.

Cellist Séverine Ballon gave an equally intimate recital in the much smaller Phipps Hall on Wednesday afternoon. She took the title of Sam Hayden’s instabilités literally, unleashing an interesting kind of energy – evidently in large amounts but initially emerging in fits and starts. Its gestural shapes formed not so much a continuity as a consistency of attitude and behaviour, which gradually gave the impression of a volatile equilibrium. Overall it came across primarily as surface music, an essay in caprice that didn’t seem to offer much deeper, though its energy was always engaging and the work’s conclusion offered something new, a lovely sequence of distorted lyricism that Hayden, having finally switched off the volatility setting, allowed time to ruminate.

The highlight of the recital was another piece rooted in instability, Shades of Light by Annelies Van Parys, in which cello and electronics were pitted against each other. Or were they? – there was at times a sense that the electronics were not so much in competition as simply responding with overwhelming enthusiasm to the cello’s progression from precarious to florid music, resulting in a wall of noise. Furthermore, the electronics were held in check and, apparently, systematically reduced by the cello via a foot pedal, leading to a more sympathetic relationship with Ballon’s grinding creaks (having essentially come to a halt) being transformed into a three-dimensional texture. The end was exquisite, the cello’s tremulous lyricism accompanied by a soft hint of bells.

A different kind of drama occurred in Chiyoko Szlavnics‘ Whorl Whirling Wings, receiving its first UK performance by EXAUDI. Just as we were getting used to its nocturnal, love-infused soundworld, the piece literally broke apart, directly addressing the effect of the Ukraine conflict on Szlavnics’ creativity, and her inability to continue the work to its otherwise natural conclusion. Whether or not it ultimately ‘worked’ as a composition is both beside and precisely the point: it was a startling demonstration of the disruption and damage that atrocity can inflict on any one of us.

In the same concert, Lorenzo Pagliei’s stunning new work Marea flusso deriva set up six parallel streams of expression, coalescing at times, in a communal flurry of activity before each singer figuratively fell asleep. Small ripples perturbed the calm music that followed, purr-like snores, mild agitation, undulating phrases, all resettling until Pagliei woke everyone up, returning to the wild cavalcade of moods. The piece would have benefitted from being shorter than its 17-minute duration, but it was nonetheless highly entertaining.

Everything i’ve mentioned was a bright highlight of this year’s HCMF, but the brightest of them all were the two performances of music by Lithuanian composer Justė Janulytė. i’ve been a passionate admirer of Janulytė’s work for many years, but until now haven’t had the chance to experience her unique soundworlds in the concert hall. Both times it was literally incredible. The first was given by Marco Blaauw’s multi-trumpet Monochrome Project, in the UK première of Unanime. (The piece exists in two versions, 15 and 27 minutes respectively; this was the extended version.) It’s often hard to know what you’re actually hearing and what’s an illusion in Janulytė’s music. Here, the homogeneous texture gave the impression of falling arpeggios, and also seemed to be sagging while simultaneously remaining completely unaffected. Stasis or progression? Changes in the extents of the mutes, and their later removal and reinsertion, were obvious indicators of progress, yet the illusions continued: the sense of the make-up of the hovering chord diversifying yet impossible to pinpoint where it was altering; the suggestion of a cadence teetering on the edge of resolution, a beautifully inscrutable suspension somehow minor, major and diminished all at once. Even something as basic as its dynamic nature was hard to fathom. It was all a gorgeous, glorious mystery in sound.

A similarly paradoxical mix of impenetrability and immersion permeated the London Sinfonietta’s performance of Janulytė’s Sleeping Patterns. Now we were in the midst of a gentle, breathing pulsation, dissonant and consonant at the same time. Though rapturously beautiful, it too was hard to fathom: neither static nor moving, a shining, shimmering cloud radiating colour and warmth in all directions. It’s ironic that Janulytė describes herself as a ‘monochrome’ composer; the palette may be enigmatic, but i’ve rarely heard music more suffused with such a vivid panoply of colour.

For parents hoping to introduce children to classical music, books can be a great place to start. But which ones will children actually enjoy reading? Here is our guide to ten of the best children’s books about music.

Best children’s books about music

The Story Orchestra: In the Hall of the Mountain King

Illustrator Jessica Courtney-Tickle and the writer/musician Katy Flint are onto a winner with their handsome series of push-button books, combining storytelling with excerpts of classical music. Previous editions have included The Nutcracker, Swan Lake, The Four Seasons in One Day, Sleeping Beauty and The Carnival of the Animals – all of them lovingly put together and charmingly illustrated.

This latest one interweaves fragments of music by Edvard Grieg with the story of a young boy who sets off on an adventure through the valleys and mountains of the Norwegian countryside, beginning with a wedding feast and ending in the lair of the Mountain King. Just touch the button on each page to hear the music, then flip to the back page to get a child-friendly musical analysis, as well as a little glossary of musical terms and a mini-biography of the composer.

Listen to the Birds: An Introduction to Classical Music

In this elegantly-illustrated book by Ana Gerhard and illustrator Cecilia Varela we learn about some of the pieces of classical music inspired by birds, with descriptions of twenty different works by Tchaikovsky, Vivaldi and Saint-Saëns amongst others.

Also included is a CD of the musical works along with a listening guide with things to look out for, a glossary of musical terms and mini-biographies of bird-loving composers. Plus, if you like this book, you’ll be happy to know there’s a sequel, Little Creatures, in which Gerhard pairs five centuries of music history with illustrations of insects, arachnids, wasps, butterflies, frogs and other creatures.

Bantam of the Opera

This bonkers book by the American writer Mary Jane Auch was one of the first I ever read to my son. We’ve since read it about 500 more times, so it’s a testament to Auch – a self-confessed poultry fan – that it still hasn’t gotten boring.

It tells the story of Luigi, a cockerel gifted with a glorious voice, who finds fame as the star of the Cosmopolitan Opera Company in a production of Verdi‘s Rigoletto, after the lead tenor and understudy are laid low with chicken pox.

Charming, witty and tremendous fun to read, especially if you do the voices, it’s a great way to introduce children to the concept of opera. But be warned: once you’ve finished it, Rigoletto may forever be synonymous with images of chickens singing ‘cock a la doo da lay’ and swinging from chandeliers.

Strange Mr Satie

As someone guided by his own rules for how music should be, for behaviour in school, for romance and how to dress, the 19th century composer Erik Satie was at odds even with the French avant-garde community of his day.

So the author M.T. Anderson and illustrator Petra Mathers are onto an interesting subject with this little book, which introduces young readers to the man who ‘never grew up but was always a child with an old man’s smile’.

The writers have made some bold choices: we hear about how Satie befriended and fell in love with an artist and model who already had a boyfriend; how he tagged along with them to social events; how, in a fit of jealous rage, he once pushed his lover out of the window.

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But Anderson and Mathers handle it all with an eloquence and fantastical style that will allow small children to get caught up in the story of this one-off composer, who moved in a world of poets, painters, magicians and puppeteers.

Why Beethoven threw the Strew

The British cellist Steven Isserlis brings the world of classical music to life in this book, which introduces children to six of his favourite composers: Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann, Brahms and Stravinsky. Through a series of entertaining anecdotes, Isserlis does an excellent job of demystifying each composer, turning him into human beings made of flesh and blood. Each chapter includes a glossary of musical terms as well as suggestions on where to start exploring each composer’s output.

The Bear and the Piano

When a bear cub stumbles upon a discarded piano in the middle of a forest one day, he decides to teach himself how to play it. One day a father and son are walking in the forest when they hear the bear playing. It’s the start of a journey to stardom for the bear, who enjoys performing to sold-out venues, but eventually starts to miss his friends and family in the forest. David Litchfield’s first book for ages 4+ is beautifully illustrated and sensitively told.

Ada’s Violin

The true story of how a village turned garbage into music, Ada’s Violin follows the poverty-stricken children in Cateura, Paraguay, who created an orchestra of instruments out of junk and learnt to play them – eventually finding fame and even playing with Metallica.

Susan Hood and Sally Wern Comport’s book offers us a window into a town that struggles to purchase shelter, food, as well as schooling and care for children, where families work long hours looking through trash bags in the landfill for items to recycle. Anyone wishing to know more can go to recycledorchestracateura.com to check out photos and videos of the orchestra, including an interview with the eponymous Ada.

I Know a Shy Fellow who Swallowed a Cello

This clever variation on ‘There was an Old Woman who Swallowed a Fly’ makes a nifty little introduction to the instruments of the orchestra.

Barbara S. Garriel’s text bounces along with a lovely musicality of its own, always keeping the rhymes fresh and and to-the-point (‘I know a shy fellow who swallowed a sax. Hard to relax when you swallow a sax.’). John O’Brien’s illustrations are gloriously silly. And you’ll be glad to hear that the book ends much more happily than the rhyme that inspired it, with the final musician simply sneezing his instrument out.

Itzhak: A Boy who Loved the Violin

This picture book follows the life story of the violinist Itzhak Perlman, from his early years in Israel when his received his first toy violin, to performing on the Ed Sullivan Show in the US aged 13. In between we hear about his life-altering illness: polio, which he contracted when he was four years old and which left him with a permanent disability, forcing him to depend on crutches and to play the violin sitting down.

Author Tracy Newman and illustrator Abigail Halpin do a remarkable job of conveying Perlman’s determination to pursue his artistic passion. Their book, which also includes an introduction to musical terms such as legato, spiccato and vibrato, manages to be at once informative and age-appropriate. It’s a super introduction to one of the world’s greatest musical performers.

Mole Music

People get emotional about this book. One anonymous GoodReads reviewer laments being introduced to it in his toddler years, ‘because everything I have read since pales in comparison.’

Strong words, perhaps, but David McPhail’s Mole Music, first published in 1999, is indeed touching. It tells the story of a mole who practises the violin for years in his underground house, dreaming that other people, possibly even presidents and queens, might one day hear his music and be changed by it. Little does he know that, up above his burrow, all his dreams are coming true.

The 20th edition of the event revealed the 12 winners honored for outstanding new works in classical music, jazz, and sound art

Based in the UK, the Academy’s annual Ivors Composer Awards presents its winners with the Ivor Novello Award, which was first launched in 1956 in recognition of creative excellence in composing and songwriting.

Across the nine categories and three special prize sections, 12 winners were selected from 45 nominees. The live award ceremony was recently hosted by BBC Radio 3 at the British Museum and was broadcast on BBC Radio 3’s New Music Show.

The jury for the nine nominated categories involved 48 composers and creators, while the three special awards were decided by The Ivors Academy Awards Committee.

First-time Ivors Academy winners included Brett Dean, Joanna Marsh, Liz Dilnot Johnson, Tori Freestone, Laurence Crane, Hannah Conway, and Talvin Singh. 

For the special prizes, the Ivor Novello Award for Outstanding Works Collection was presented to English contemporary classical composer Sir George Benjamin, the Ivor Novello Award for Innovation went to tabla player and percussionist Talvin Singh, and the Academy Fellowship was awarded to Judith Weir.

“A hearty congratulations to all our winners, who have been recognised for their incredible achievements in composition,” said Ivors Academy Chair, Tom Gray. “The range of innovation and level of accomplishments make this an outstanding year. We have proudly celebrated creative excellence in composing for the past twenty years and thank PRS for Music and BBC Radio 3 for supporting us since the start.”

The 2022 winners of the Ivors Composer Awards are:

• Chamber Ensemble – Brett Dean for Madame ma bonne sœur
  Written for mezzo-soprano and string quartet, the song cycle is based on the letters of Marie Stuart – Mary, Queen of Scots – dating back to the 1560s. The work was commissioned by Germany’s Festspiele Mecklenburg-Vorpommern and Oxford’s Lieder Festival, where it received its UK premiere in 2021 performed by Lotte Betts-Dean and the Armida Quartet.

• Choral – Joanna Marsh for All Shall Be Well
  All Shall Be Well is a setting of quotations from ‘Revelations of Divine Love,’ a book of devotions written by Julian of Norwich (1342-1416). The piece was commissioned by RT Hon Patricia Hewitt for ORA Singers and premiered at voces8 foundation’s Live from London Summer Festival by ORA Singers directed by Suzi Digby OBE.

• Community and Participation –  Liz Dilnot Johnson for When A Child Is A Witness – Requiem For Refugees
  Written for choir, children’s choir, mezzo-soprano soloist, organ, piano, violin/Hardanger fiddle and refugee groups, the 100-minute requiem mass was commissioned by Ex Cathedra for Coventry’s City of Culture. The piece uses themes of war, displacement, sanctuary, and hope, to create space within the work for refugee groups to perform their own contributions of poetry, music and songs.

• Jazz Ensemble – Tori Freestone for Birds Of Paradise
  The composer and jazz pianist Alcyona Mick premiered the piece as part of the London Jazz Festival in 2021. Inspired by birdsong during the pandemic, when composing the work, Freestone explained that “having the melodies and rhythms combined with the play and interaction the birds created whilst our own forms of musical interaction were being restricted was uplifting.”

• Large Ensemble – Cheryl Frances-Hoad for Scenes From The Wild
  Frances-Hoad has won her third award at The Ivors Academy for Scenes From The Wild, a song cycle for tenor and chamber orchestra based on a book by Dara McAnulty, titled Diary of a Young Naturalist. The work was commissioned and performed by the City of London Sinfonia at Southwark Cathedral to mark their 50th anniversary year.

• Orchestral – Rebecca Saunders for to an utterance
  Saunders has now won her fifth Ivors Academy award with her work, to an utterance, written for piano and orchestra. The piece was premiered by the London Philharmonic Orchestra and Nicholas Hodges as part of the Southbank Centre’s new music festival SoundState.

• Small Chamber – Laurence Crane for Natural World
  Crane has won with his Natural World, a 45-minute piece for soprano and piano/sampler keyboard with three distinct movements. Commissioned by Juliet Fraser with Oxford Lieder Festival and Musica Sacra Maastricht, Crane explained that this piece aimed to “explore the poetic nature of factual or list-based texts,” from which he compiled and wrote words drawn from catalogs of birds and marine life.

• Sound Art – Hannah Conway for The Sound Voice Project: Paul, I Left My Voice Behind and Tanja
  Conway’s installation was created to explore the stories of people who have experienced significant voice change or loss. This project premiered at the 2021 Festival of New. Conway explained that her “installation invites audiences to consider wider issues of voice and identity, asking ‘what is a voice’ and ‘what happens when it is gone?’”

• Stage Works – Thomas Adès for Dante
  Adès has now won his fourth Ivors Academy award for the score to the ballet Dante. With choreography by Wayne McGregor and set by Tacita Dean, the UK premiere was at the Royal Opera House, performed by the Royal Ballet, conducted by the composer. The jury stated that the work “demonstrates an ambition in the dramatic investigation of the original text and its transposition into dance that creates wonderful synergy between the music and choreography.” 

For more about each of the winners and their works, click here.

People doing interesting things to objects doesn’t necessarily create interesting music. Can we agree on that? i don’t think that’s a particularly outrageous thing to say, though there were a number of times during my six days at this year’s Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival when i found myself wondering otherwise. HCMF, like most new music festivals, has for a long time been keen to explore music-making as a multi-disciplinary practice and performance art, which is wonderful, but the bottom line – for me, at least – is that, quite apart from whatever else may be going on and contributing to the work, it should at least have something substantial to say sonically. That most definitely wasn’t always the case this year, but rather than waste time eviscerating the more egregious offenders (some of them repeat offenders), i’m going to remind myself that the usual best response to bad music is simply to ignore it.

One performance piece i was happy to experience again (having previously witnessed it during this year’s Ultima festival) was Henning Christiansen‘s 180 Hammer Blows Against the War Monkeys. Again performed by the composer’s son, Thorbjørn Reuter Christiansen, in front of Huddersfield Art Gallery, i decided to take a different approach from Oslo. Then i had stood still, and watched, and listened. This time, i walked; i wanted to move around the streets, to hear how (and if) its resonance was spreading, to experience both its metaphorical and literal impact. Christiansen’s loud, regular hammer strikes followed me, down streets, along walkways, even into a shop. i’d like to say they never left me, but at one point i turned a corner – and suddenly they were gone, lost in what was only a mild hubbub but distance and weakened sound reflections had reduced it below audibility. It made me reflect on the frailty of individual protest, and on the necessity for the fire to be fanned, maintained and spread by others, until sanity prevails. For now, of course, chaos reigns, but i hope Thorbjørn Reuter Christiansen will continue to rain down hammer blows around the world for as long as necessary. For me, the effect (following on from Oslo) felt accumulative; maybe, one day, that will turn out to have been true.

The most stunning theatrical work i experienced this year, which spoke volumes about the situation past and present in Ukraine, was Roman Grygoriv and Illia Razumeiko‘s Chornobyldorf, given its UK première on the festival’s opening night. A complex mixture of allusion, metaphor, allegory, symbolism and direct statement, the piece was originally conceived (as its name suggests) exploring the effects of nuclear power from the perspective of a post-apocalyptic environment, but it was obviously impossible not to read its narrative within the nation’s ongoing apocalypse. Throughout the various sections of this “media-opera”, the musical actions and concomitant sounds were all inextricably linked to, and emanated from, the blasted emotional state of both the protagonists and their landscape. Cludged and broken instruments were used, misused and abused by performers arrayed in everything from seemingly salvaged rags adorned with bits of electronics, to elaborate ball gowns, to nothing at all.

However they were dressed, whatever they were doing, vulnerability was at the core. Sometimes they sought refuge in folk-like music, unleashing passionate forms of keening that seemed to echo back through centuries of tradition. Religion was another haven, articulated in formal processionals to make strange offerings to clapped-out altars. Through all of this was an overt, though implied, sense of dignity, not simply the urge but the necessity to overcome (or at least survive) tragedy with as much decency and grace, order and decorum, as humanly possible. Yet when that fragile façade broke down, Chornobyldorf became unflinching, unleashed in ferocious bursts of anger, massive overdriven walls of noise and hyperintense laments.

The work’s denouement suggested an overthrowing of communism: a large image of Lenin became the focal point for a wild techno rave, before being cast to the ground and dragged away. But the ending made it abundantly clear that the aftermath of disaster is tragedy not triumph. A country, and a people, that has been raped, maimed and destroyed, is going to need an age to heal and longer still to recover. Triumph has absolutely nothing to do with it. Chornobyldorf is an absolutely remarkable, deeply moving and challenging work; one can only hope it might be made available to stream so that as many people as possible can experience and reflect on its dark, authentic narrative.

The opening night ended with more Ukraine-related music courtesy of String Air Synthesis, comprising Solomiya Moroz on flute and electronics and Volodymyr Voyt on bandura. Though their recital was somewhat noodling in nature, it was an excellent (and necessary) contrast to the enormity of Chornobyldorf, and included some beautiful small-scale performances. Moroz’s short work In C was like a miniature burst of psychedelia, filled with notes overlapping and blurring, while Voyt’s 2-minute Campane for Ärvo emerged like a chorale played by weird bells with roaming overtones. The second of their slightly more lengthy improvisations was the highlight, again hinting at psychedelia in a jangly, heightened soundworld that seemed to refract the music through a kaleidoscope.

Another notable multimedia theatrical work was This Order Goes Wrong by Lithuanian composer Dominykas Digimas. Represented on stage by the lone figure of violinist Lora Kmieliauskaitė, she was supplemented by a myriad voices testifying to the reality of anxiety in all its mental and physical aspects. The piece created not so much a landscape, soundscape or noisescape, but what i can only described as a tensescape, a confused and disoriented bewilderment of word and action. A dronal quality to the music somewhat undermined the wildness at its heart (at least one voice spoke of “madness”), though nonetheless reinforced the notion of being stuck. In any case, unlike some of the more pretentious offerings at HCMF 2022 it benefitted from its acute directness, with a strong, stirring performance by Kmieliauskaitė.

More elusive, but also more hypnotic, was the UK première of Moving Picture (946-3), combining a 36-minute film by Gerhard Richter and Corinna Belz with music by Rebecca Saunders, performed by trumpeter Marco Blaauw. Taken individually, the two elements, sight and sound, could hardly have been more different: the film, bright bands of vivid colour, continually morphing into complex shapes and repeating formations and patterns not unlike the infinite contours of fractals; the music, a halting sequence of abstract gestures, simultaneously remote yet lyrical. However, as time progressed the connection between the two felt more and more fundamental. First, their respective attitudes were both utterly consistent, albeit from opposite directions, the film’s static (though ever-changing), the music’s in flux (though behaviourally predictable).

This was reinforced by the sedate smoothness of the film answered by Blaauw’s virtuosity, but more significantly by the way Saunders’ music – again occupying a monochrome world – brought to the film the two colours it was conspicuously lacking: black and white. Again like fractals, it became apparent that the colour transformations were not, as they initially appeared, simply sliding from side to side, but they were also moving slowly towards us; it was a mesmerising journey, onward and inward, that could have gone on forever. Absolutely wonderful.

Over twice as long but somehow feeling as if it passed in no time at all was the screening of Carl Theodor Dreyer’s 1928 silent masterpiece The Passion of Joan of Arc, treated to the first performance of a new live score by Julia Holter, performed by Holter’s band with the chorus of Opera North. It’s hard to argue with Dreyer’s sentiment that the film is best served with no score at all, though the “Voices of Light” score by Richard Einhorn (included on the Criterion blu-ray) makes a strong case for the value of accompanying music. Holter’s score worked well in terms of neither attempting simply to mirror the on-screen activities nor seeking to be too ambitious in its aims. In many ways it complemented the twin aspects of Dreyer’s visuals, the grotesque and the sublime. Having hinted at plainchant early on (‘Ave maris stella’, i think) Holter ushered the music into a bifurcated world by turns elemental and transcendent. The test of any film score is the extent to which it distracts from or is assimilated into the visuals, and in that respect it clearly worked. Perhaps it tried a little too hard during the film’s climax but, aside from silence, surely nothing but uproarious clamour would do justice to its tragic horror.

Some people, like All Classical Portland host Lynnsay Maynard, are simply born with a passion for reading and books.

“My parents have always joked that I would bring hardback books into my crib with me instead of dolls,” Maynard says, laughing. “But honestly, [reading] is one of the biggest loves of my life.” And she has carried that interest in the written word with her at All Classical, the internationally recognized radio station where she can be heard regularly in the wee hours of weekday mornings from 2 to 6.

When Maynard interviewed for the on-air position, she pitched the idea for a program that would explore the connections between classical music and literature—pieces of music inspired by prose or poetry, novels and plays influenced by symphonies or operas.

That concept became Noteworthy, a weekly program hosted and produced by Maynard that airs Sundays at noon. As promised, each episode tugs on a thread tying together music and literature through a selection of classical pieces and readings of poems or short passages.

For example, the debut episode, which aired in late October, explores Frédéric Chopin’s 24 Preludes, a series of short piano pieces that the composer partly wrote while living in Majorca with lover George Sand. Maynard played segments of the musical cycle as well as readings from Briefly, A Delicious Life, Nell Stevens’ novel told from the perspective of a ghost who falls in love with Sand.

A more recent installment wrapped together music that Johannes Brahms and Gustav Holst wrote for universities in the literary genre known as the campus novel, referencing Kingsley Amis’ Lucky Jim and Gabrielle Zevin’s Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow.

The depth and range of each episode of Noteworthy that has aired so far is fairly typical of All Classical’s programming, but feels even more impressive when you consider that Maynard is an autodidact when it comes to her interests in music and literature.

“A lot of people who work in this field have played an instrument or grew up in a house where Mom and Dad loved classical music,” she says. “I don’t have either of those in my pocket. I don’t play an instrument. I can’t read music. And my parents were the James Taylor, Carole King crowd. The way I really started to connect with the music was looking up stories about the composers and stories about their lives and how they got inspiration for the pieces.”

Though Maynard’s résumé includes work at other noncommercial radio stations like Seattle’s KUOW and Maine Public Radio, her day job until recently was working as a therapist. Her new full-time gig at All Classical and being able to work on Noteworthy are clearly a balm to her, especially after she became burned out on her previous profession during the pandemic.

Ever since getting the go-ahead for the show, Maynard has dived into the production with a particular zeal, speed reading new books for potential inclusion and doing research. As a result, she says she has already mapped out the next three months of programs.

On deck in the coming weeks are an examination of grief via the work of Beethoven and Joan Didion, and a show focused on the Harlem Renaissance. Also, Maynard is hoping to start featuring conversations with local authors and those visiting Portland on book tours.

It’s not difficult to get swept up in Maynard’s enthusiasm as she talks about the future of Noteworthy. I left our short phone call with a list of books and authors to search for at the library and pieces of music to track down—and I’m by no means on my own on this. Even after only a month, listeners to All Classical have been exuberant in their praise for Noteworthy and the show’s host.

“I’ve been pretty blown away by the feedback,” Maynard says. “People are overwhelmingly really, really liking the show. I just got an email from a listener today that said she’s been putting a spreadsheet together of all the books that are referenced on Noteworthy because she wants to add them to her ‘to be read’ list. As a fellow reader, that’s a pretty big compliment.”

LISTEN: Noteworthy airs at noon every Sunday on All Classical Portland 89.9 FM.

For the first time in its 180-year history, the orchestra sees women outnumber their male counterparts, with 45 women to 44 men

Founded in 1842, the New York Philharmonic is the oldest symphony orchestra in the U.S.

In a recent piece by The New York Times, it has been reported that when the orchestra moved to Lincoln Center in 1962, its new hall had no women’s dressing rooms, as there were no women in the orchestra.

Now, women comprise a little over 50% of NY Phil, but dominate some orchestral sections more than others, for instance, 27 of the ensemble’s 30 violinists are women (in contrast, the percussion section is all-male). Additionally, of NY Phil’s recently held auditions, 10 of the 12 latest musician hires have been women.

“This certainly shows tremendous strides,” said NY Phil’s CEO and president, Deborah Borda. “Women are winning these positions fair and square…All we seek is equity, because society is 50-50.”

Despite possibilities that the balance between women and men might sway due to NY Phil having 16 player vacancies to fill — from delays in auditioning caused by the COVID-19 pandemic — the change is still impactful, considering NY Phil only had five women in the early 1970s. It was during that decade that blind auditions were implemented, creating a fairer selection process and preventing gender bias.

The Philharmonic hired its first female member in 1922 — Stephanie Goldner, a 26-year-old harpist from Vienna. However, the orchestra became all-male again for decades after Goldner left in 1932.

In 1966, double bassist Orin O’Brien became NY Phil’s first female section player. As The NY Times explained, O’Brien was really the first woman to become a permanent member of the orchestra and was considered the beacon of a pioneering group of female artists who created opportunities for other women to join. By 1992, NY Phil included 29 female musicians.

“It’s a sea change,” said NY Phil principal violist Cynthia Phelps, who joined the orchestra in 1992. “This has been a hard-won, long battle, and it continues to be.”

Even though representation gradually increased, female musicians often faced discrimination and sexism in the industry. In 2019, the Boston Symphony settled a lawsuit with its principal flutist Elizabeth Rowe, who was being paid $70,000 per year less than the orchestra’s male principal oboist, John Ferrillo, despite their same workload.

For Judith LeClair, who joined NY Phil as principal bassoon in 1981 at age 23, it took 20 years before pay parity was reached. “I did feel I was taken advantage of in the very beginning because I was a woman, and young and naïve,” she told NY Times. “It felt humiliating and demeaning.”

The NY Phil has women in about a third of its leadership positions, including its principal positions, plus assistant or associate principal roles, which are the best-paid for orchestral musicians. The orchestra, like many around the world, has never had a female music director and has a noticeable absence of Black and Latino members.

Additionally, women make up around half of the players in orchestras across the U.S. but are still highly outnumbered by men in most ensembles, including those in Boston, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles.

Internationally, women are still the “firsts” in various positions in the classical music industry, including Ukrainian conductor Oksana Lyniv who became the first female music director of an Italian opera house, and Mélisse Brunet who became the Lexington Philharmonic Orchestra’s first female music director in its 61-year history.

For the Vienna Philharmonic — which is now around 17 percent female — they did not allow women to audition until 1997. 

In the last few years, as more women have become leaders in the orchestra, it has become a more inclusive environment. This is also helped through dress code considerations. NY Phil updated their dress code in 2018 to allow women to wear pants on stage, while the Philadelphia Orchestra followed in 2021.

In promoting change, NY Phil has aimed to hire more women as guest conductors and commission female composers’ works. Additionally, some of its players have urged the organization to select a woman for the music director role, currently held by Jaap van Zweden, who will step down in 2024.

“It’s more of a family now,” said Sherry Sylar, associate principal oboe, who joined NY Phil in 1984. “I’m not saying I want this to be an all-women orchestra either…It’s just nice to see that women are being recognized for their talent.”

Gender parity is not the only milestone of the orchestra — this fall, NY Phil Philharmonic also performs in its newly renovated David Geffen Hall for their upcoming season.

By Aaron Keebaugh

Bold and colorful by turns, this disc offers an ideal introduction to Hans Rott, a composer who has slowly surfaced from the dark corners of history.

Hans Rott: Symphony No. 1 in E major; Mahler: Blumine; Bruckner: Symphonic Prelude in C minor. Bamberger Symphoniker. Jakub Hrůša, cond. Deutsche Grammophon.

There’s no doubt that the Scherzo to Hans Rott’s Symphony No. 1 in E major sounds familiar. With a French horn line soaring over a ländler rhythm, the music builds steadily before evaporating into a mysterious Trio. It’s easy to think that such sounds originated with Mahler, who achieved such an effect in his own First Symphony. Yet Rott’s actually came first.

Completed in 1880 though never performed in the composer’s lifetime, Rott’s music walks the wire between Brucknerian grandeur and Mahler’s world-embracing vitality. Commendably, Jakub Hrůša and the Bamberger Symphoniker are shedding new light on this remarkable score. Bold and colorful by turns, this disc offers an ideal introduction to a composer who has slowly surfaced from the dark corners of history.

The Symphony in E major was the grandest score by a solitary figure who struggled and lost against personal demons. Lauded by Bruckner at the Vienna Conservatory, Rott composed the work in the elder master’s shadow. And for that reason, the conservatory faculty — save for Bruckner — derided Rott as an epigone. Unfortunately, Rott made the mistake of showing it to Johannes Brahms. No fan of Bruckner’s influence in Vienna, Brahms told the young composer to give up music entirely, sending Rott into a deep depression. His mental health only declined from there. He reportedly pulled a revolver on a passenger in a train believing that Brahms had hidden dynamite in one of the cars. Rott spent the last four years of his life in the mental ward of the Vienna General Hospital, dying there in 1884 at age 25.

The symphony, however, shows a healthy mind with a remarkable grasp of a long-term tension and release. Nearly an hour long, the score channels an elemental, up-from-the-depths momentum as well as a haunting distance.

The work opens in darkness. Yet there are splashes of light played out through flickering woodwinds and warm trumpet solos. A regal pomp brings the initial movement to an arresting culmination.

An organist like Bruckner, Rott channels a hymnic solemnity in the second movement. But, here too, winds and strings offer a splash of light. That mix of reverence and verve mark the remaining movements. The Scherzo bounds and lilts, while the expansive finale unfolds organically — even Brahms-like — propelled by simple pulses and spare textures. In Rott, one hears both a culmination of Viennese romanticism as well as a glimpse of what was coming in the years ahead.

There have been a smattering of recordings since the symphony was premiered belatedly in 1989 by Gerhard Samuel and the Cincinnati Philharmonia Orchestra. Many are capable readings, with Leif Segerstam’s 1992 performance with the Norrkoping Symphony Orchestra capturing the full range between introspection and exuberance.

But Hrůša leads the pack with the most seismic vision of the work’s sweeping form. His broad tempos reveal every detail without sacrificing urgency. And there’s plenty to enjoy along the way. The gleaming winds and strings of the Bamberger ensemble provide a foil for the other in the opening movement, which the conductor shapes through vivid crescendos. A sense of angst and struggle come to the fore in the otherwise serene “Sehr langsam.” Hrůša teases the bucolic zest out of the Scherzo; the Trio offers a delicate, even chamber-like complement. Hrůša builds the tension slowly in the finale. The theme central to the movement — a nod to Brahms — culminates in a satisfying denouement. With all its tasteful empathetic shaping, this performance conveys everything that’s exceptional about Rott’s little-remembered but highly original composition.

Two additional tracks only enhance your appreciation of Hrůša’s perceptive artistry. He leads Mahler’s Blumine with a keen eye trained on every tittering orchestral effect. Bruckner’s Symphonic Prelude in C minor also comes off splendidly in all its Wagnerian power. For this music, that’s about as good as it gets.

Aaron Keebaugh has been a classical music critic in Boston since 2012. His work has been featured in the Musical Times, Corymbus, Boston Classical Review, Early Music America, and BBC Radio 3. A musicologist, he teaches at North Shore Community College in both Danvers and Lynn.

Attending a concert is an excellent way to warm up and cheer up with friends and family during the last month of the year. Portland is fortunate to offer a lot of performances of sacred and secular music that embraces the holiday season. Here are 14 gems that may entice you to get out of the house. Keep in mind that masking requirements may vary for each concert. So be sure to check with each organization’s website.

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Wintersong – Portland Symphonic Choir

A warm mixture of seasonal works will elevate your spirits when this choir, under the direction of its artistic leader Alissa Deeter, sings it annual holiday concert. You will hear “Ring Out, Wild Bells” by Jonathan Dove and a medley of traditional tunes in ‘Christmas Day’ by Gustav Holst. The choir will also sing the Ukrainian New Year’s carol “Shchedryk” (commonly known as “Carol of the Bells”), “Lo, How A Rose E’er Blooming,” “Noel” by Portland composer Naomi LaViolette, and “Maoz Tsur” by Shlomo Farber. Be sure to clear your throats to sing-along with “Deck the Halls,” “Silent Night,” “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” “O Hanukkah,” and the “Hallelujah Chorus.” Choirs from Franklin High School and Southridge High School will also participate.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 3, Rose City Park United Methodist Church. 5830 N.E. Alameda St.; 4 p.m. Dec. 4, Cedar Mill Christ United Methodist Church, 12755 N.W. Dogwood St.; $40; pschoir.org or 503-223-1217.

Glory of Christmas – Oregon Repertory Singers

Ethan Sperry directs this festive celebration with seasonal favorites that encompass traditional carols like “Sing We Now of Christmas” and “What Child is This” and sacred pieces like Morten Lauridsen’s “Chanson des Roses,” Eric Whitacre’s “Sainte Chapelle, Franz Biebl’s “Ave Maria.” You will also enjoy Ola Gjeilo’s “Northern Lights” and Portland composer Naomi LaViolette inviting arrangements of “Love is Love” and “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence.” The program includes two world premieres: “LaViolette’s “Winter Solstice” and Ethan Sperry’s “7 x 7.” The ORS youth choirs will combine with the adults to sing LaViolette’s “Noel,” which sets the old carol “The First Noel,” with a new melody and harmonic structure.

Dec. 4, 10, 11, First United Methodist Church, 1838 S.W. Jefferson St.; $25-$45; orsingers.org or 503-230-0652.

Comfort & Joy – Oregon Symphony

Associate conductor Deanna Tham and the orchestra will open the concert with Leroy Anderson’s “A Christmas Festival,” which contains a brilliant medley of carols. The kid in all of us will smile along with the “Parade of the Wooden Soldiers,” and “Spirit of the Season” from the movie Polar Express. “Joyful Day” from Nigerian composer Fela Sowande has an infectious rhythm. The musicians will accompany the Oregon Chorale to carol you with traditional favorites, such as “We Need a Little Christmas,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” and “White Christmas.” Following the “Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s “Messiah” you will be treated the equally rousing “Gospel Hallelujah” of Quincy Jones.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 7, Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 S.W. Broadway; $25-$59; orsymphony.org or 503-229-1353.

Yuletide: A Christmas Carol – Choral Arts Ensemble

Imagine weaving the story of Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol,” with traditional carols and a few new ones to create a powerful and poignant event. That’s exactly with the Choral Arts Ensemble, under the direction of David De Lyser will do with its presentation of Benedict’ Sheehan’s “A Christmas Carol” in its West Coast premiere. Portland’s own Susannah Mars will provide narration, accompanied by the choir and soloists, to tell the story of the wealthy and self-centered Scrooge, who repents the wrongdoings of his past and wakes up on Christmas morning with a new mission in life to bring joy to the impoverished Cratchit family and especially Tiny Tim.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 10, 3 p.m. Dec. 11, St. Philip Neri Catholic Church, 2408 S.E. 16th Ave.; $22 advance, $30 at the door; portlandschoir.org or 503-488-3834.

Gospel Christmas – Oregon Symphony

Charles Floyd leads the orchestra, the Northwest Community Gospel Chorus, and soloists in this annual concert that brings glorious, full-throated gospel sounds to the Schnitz. Vocalists Alonzo Chadwick Sr. and Saeeda Wright-Amartey will help to power you upward and onward. Chadwick opens the concert with Isaiah Smith’s “All Praise” and closes it with Myron Williams’ “King of Kings.” Wright-Amartey will deliver “Great Big God” by Lisa Knowles Smith. They are just two of the many soloists involved in this upbeat concert that will take you from “Go Tell it on the Mountain” into “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” Be ready for the call and response style that is guaranteed to get you warmed up and clapping along.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 10, 4 p.m. Dec. 11, Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 S.W. Broadway; $25-$115; orsymphony.org or 503-229-1353.

Handel’s ‘Messiah’ – Portland Baroque Orchestra

Handel’s “Messiah” is a three-hour musical feast based on passages from the Old and New Testaments. Split into three parts, this oratorio tells of the coming of Christ to redeem the world, His ministry, death, resurrection, and ascension. Terrific recitatives, arias, and choruses, including the “Hallelujah Chorus” have combined to make the “Messiah” one of the most popular pieces ever written. Conductor Gabriel Crouch will lead the Portland Baroque Orchestra, the Cappella Romana vocal ensemble, and soprano Maya Kherani, mezzo-soprano Abigail Levis, tenor Thomas Cooley, and bass-baritone Douglas Williams. Crouch teaches at Princeton University and is the musical director of the British early music ensemble Gallicantus, which has released six acclaimed recordings.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 9-10, 3 p.m. Dec. 11, First Baptist Church, 1110 S.W. Taylor St.; $38-$78; pbo.org or 503-226-6000.

Light the Way Home – Gay Men’s Chorus

The 100-voice choir will perform sacred and secular pieces with chamber orchestra and percussion. From the late medieval period, the men will sing an arrangement of “Gaudete.” A medley of Christmas carols will sparkle in Chad Weirick ‘s “The Lights Have Been Strung.” Arrangements of “Betelehemu,” a Nigerian Christmas carol by Olatunji and Wendell Whalum, the Hanukkah song “One Light,” Carol Hall’s “Hard Candy Christmas,” and Sara Bareilles’ “Love is Christmas” will add flavor to the concert. The chorus’ new artistic director, Braeden Ayres, will conduct. Ayres previously led the Colorado Springs Men’s Chorus, which, in light of recent tragic events, makes this concert about peace and joy especially significant.

8 p.m. Dec. 9-10, 3 p.m. Dec. 11, Newmark Theatre, 1111 S.W. Broadway; $20-$56, pdxgmc.org or 503-226-2588.

Cello Nutcracker – 45th Parallel Universe

Tchaikovsky extracted several of the most well-known numbers from his ballet “The Nutcracker,” to create “The Nutcracker Suite.” It is in this form that the ballet gained world-wide popularity, and that has led to a variety of arrangements, including one by David Gwyn Seymour, which shows off the versatility of six cellos. Portland’s own North Pole Cello Sextet (Seth Biagini, Pansy Chang, Trevor Fitzpatrick, Antoinette Gan, Kevin Kunkel, and Marilyn de Oliveira) will deliver the goods. You will hear the Sugar Plum Fairy’s dance and the Russian, Arabian, Chinese, and Reed Flute dances. The elegant and grand “Waltz of the Flowers” will probably cause any children in attendance to get up and twirl in the aisle. Also on tap are a few movements from Arcangelo Corelli’s “Christmas Concerto,” Franz Schubert’s “Ave Maria,” and Karl Jenkins “Benedictus.”

7 p.m. Dec. 14, The Old Madeleine Church, 3123 N.E. 24th Ave.; $30; 45thparallelpdx.org or 503-446-4227.

J.S. Bach Christmas Oratorio – Trinity Music and Portland Baroque

The Trinity Choir, accompanied by the Portland Baroque Orchestra, will present J. S. Bach’s “Christmas Oratorio,” which consists of six separate cantatas for specific days during Christmas and Epiphany. The first three cantatas will be performed on Dec. 16 and the second set on Dec. 17. Featured soloists are soprano Evelyn Johnson Zamudio, countertenor Daniel Moody, tenor Nils Neubert, and bass Daniel Pickens-Jones. The entire ensemble will be conducted by Avi Stein, associate organist and chorus master at Trinity Wall Street. Each concert will be followed by Trinity’s Wassail Party. The merrymaking is included with the ticket purchase.

7 p.m. Dec. 16-17, Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, 147 N.W. 19th Ave.; $22-$60; trinity-episcopal.org or 503-222-9811.

Baroque Holiday Concert – Bach Cantata Choir

The 40-voice choir, conducted by artistic director Ralph Nelson, uncorks works of the Baroque period, beginning with three German carols by Michael Praetorius that includes “Lo, how a rose e’er blooming.” Heinrich Schutz’s “Hodie Christus Natus Est” (Today Christ is Born) vocally reflects a brass ensemble. Handel’s first music teacher, Friedrich Wilhelm Zachow, wrote the soothing cantata “Uns ist ein Kind geboren” (To us a child is born). Bach’s Cantata No. 122, “Das neugeborne Kindelein” (The newborn child) was written for the Sunday after Christmas in honor of Christ’s birth. The big number on the concert program is Bach’s “Magnificat,” a festive work with colorful instrumentation that uses brass and tympani.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 16, Rose City Park Presbyterian Church, 1907 N.E. 45th Ave.; $30; bachcantatachoir.org or 503-702-1973.

A Rose in Midwinter – In Mulieibus

Works spanning from medieval times to the brand-new pieces will be sung by this outstanding all-female ensemble. You can hear rarely performed songs by Pérotin, who was associated with the Notre Dame school of polyphony in the 1200s and other “anonymous” composers from the Early Music era. Contemporary pieces will feature Ivan Moody’s “Cum natus esset Iesus” (When Jesus was born) and the music of Nicola LeFanu and Portland composer John Vergin. The sirens in this concert, led by Anna Song, are sopranos Catherine van der Salm, Henriët Fourie, Kari Ferguson, Ann Wetherell, Amanda Jane Kelley, and mezzos Sue Hale and Hannah Penn. Be ready to bliss out!

7 p.m. Dec. 20, St. Mary’s Cathedral, 1716 N.W. Davis St., 7 p.m. Dec. 21, St. Philip Neri Catholic Church, 2408 S.E. 16th Ave.; $30-$40; inmulieribus.org or 503-283-2913.

Holiday Brass – Oregon Symphony

The orchestra’s stellar brass section will strut their stuff under the direction of associate conductor Deanna Tham. Composer Anthony DiLorenzo, who has won an Emmy and has been nominated for a Grammy, is represented in the program with his arrangements of “Joy to the World”, “Twas’ the Night before Christmas,” and “Christmas ‘Toons.” Composer Sean O’Loughlin will mellow things out with “Peaceful Sleep” before stirring things up with “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” and “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Denis Bédard’s “Toccata sur Il est né, le divin Enfant” (He is born, the divine Child} and Vince Guaraldi’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas Medley” will feature organist Jeff Wood.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 21, Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 S.W. Broadway; $20-$49; orsymphony.org or 503-229-1353.

Concert at Christmas – Portland Youth Philharmonic

Since 1961, this annual event has lifted concertgoers’ spirits and this year’s program continues that tradition under the moniker of “Up in the Air.” The Portland Youth Philharmonic, under David Hattner, will achieve lift off with Gioachino Rossini’s Overture to “La gazza ladra” (The Thieving Magpie). They will also play the world premiere of Kenji Bunch’s “she flies with her own wings” and John Philip Sousa’s “The Stars and Stripes Forever” in honor of its 125th anniversary. The PYP Alumni Orchestra will follow with Richard Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.” The concert also includes performances by the Portland Youth Conservatory Orchestra under Lawrence Johnson, the Portland Youth Wind Ensemble under Giancarlo Castro D’Addona, and the Portland Youth String Ensemble under Inés Voglar Belgique.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 26, Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 S.W. Broadway; $15-$65; portlandyouthphil.org or 503-223-5939.

Vivaldi’s Four Seasons – Oregon Symphony

A wonderful way to ring in the new year with Vivaldi’s ever-popular “Four Seasons.” Led by associate conductor Deanna Tham, the orchestra and featured violinist SooBeen Lee will take you on a journey through the calendar year. Vivaldi’s inventive melodies are accented with birdcalls, sunshine, thunderstorms, barking dogs, lullabies, and other enchanting sounds that have made this piece so well loved. The orchestra will also play Rodion Shchedrin’s “Carmen Suite,” which consists of memorable tunes from Georges Bizet’s famous opera.

7:30 p.m. Dec. 30, Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 S.W. Broadway; $29-$109; orsymphony.org or 503-229-1353.