Tag: American repertoire

What About Those Great American Symphonies?

The keypad of a telephone showing the buttons for numbers 1 to 9

A game involving lists of nine “desert island” symphonies has been making the rounds on Facebook this week, ostensibly inspired by a blogpost from back in January by DK Dexter Haven, although Jim Rosenfield played this same game with me last year at the American Academy of Arts and Letters Ceremonial.

Basically the challenge is to come up with a list of nine symphonies by nine different composers that are titled with the numbers one to nine; un-numbered symphonies are disqualified (which even includes single symphonies by composers who did not designate them as “No. 1”). Since we’re New Music USA after all, I thought I’d further up the ante with a list devoted exclusively to works by American composers. But since I’m also FJO, I couldn’t limit myself to one per number and even broke a few of the rules (as you’ll see)…

1. While I’m extremely partial to Irving Fine’s sole symphony, he didn’t number it so I can’t include it. But it’s still worth acknowledging, as is John Vincent’s sole symphony, John Duffy’s Symphony No. 1 “Utah,” Meira Warshauer’s Symphony “Living Breathing Earth” (which was her first and thus far only symphony), Elliott Carter’s Symphony No. 1 (he actually did number it, even though he composed two symphonies after that and didn’t number either of them), and Aaron Jay Kernis’s Symphony in Waves which retroactively must be considered his Symphony No. 1 since his next symphony was Symphony No. 2. But I’m reserving this slot for Ellen Taaffe Zwilich’s first symphony from 1982, which was the first composition by a female composer to be awarded the Pulitzer Prize in Music (1983). The sticklers may cry foul here since ETZ originally titled the work “Three Movements for Orchestra.” Well, tough…

2. Among the Philip Glass symphonies, I have always had a particular fondness for his Second, which has some amazing polytonal harmonies. I was really torn, however, because I also really adore the second symphonies of Chen Yi and Colin McPhee, both of which are fascinating amalgams of Eastern and Western traditions.

3. Another difficult decision. One of the most powerful live performances I have ever attended was the world premiere of John Corigliano’s Circus Maximus for wind band which he has titled his Symphony No 3, and another Symphony No. 3 for wind band by Vittorio Giannini is also extraordinary. Everyone loves to single out the third symphonies of Aaron Copland and Roy Harris as candidates for “the great American symphony,” but what about the unjustly neglected third symphony of Florence Price, a fascinating African-American symphonist whose works have recently been revived through the efforts of the Chicago-based Center for Black Music Research? Since hers is the least known and is equally worthy, I’ll cede the No.3 slot to her.

4. For once, I’ll go with my gut and choose the Fourth Symphony of Charles Ives which was not premiered in full until 11 years after Ives’s death (when the American Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Leopold Stokowski, with the help of two additional conductors, made its way through this legendary complex score on the stage of Carnegie Hall). The Grateful Dead used to spin the original Stokowski LP recording of that prior to going on stage for inspiration. How can I challenge them on that? This piece was one of the pieces that made me a lifelong devotee of contemporary music. That said, I also have quite a fondness for Lou Harrison’s fourth and final symphony which features narration by Al Jarreau.

5. I’d like to play trickster here and include the Fifth Symphony of Bohuslav Martinů whom some may balk at the inclusion of on this list since he was born in the Czech Republic and he returned to Europe toward the end of his life. But the first five of his six symphonies were all written in the United States during the 12 years he lived here, and that’s good enough for me. If it’s not “American” enough for you, you can replace it with the wonderful Fifth Symphony of Kamran Ince, but since he divides his time between the United States and Turkey and his music reflects his bi-cultural heritage, I don’t offer an easy alternative.

6. Playing trickster once again, I want to give this slot to the Symphony No. 6, subtitled “Devil Choirs At The Gates Of Heaven” by Glenn Branca, which is scored for an ensemble of electric guitars and drums. Folks horrified that I have manipulated the rules here and have thrown in a piece that is not for orchestra (though technically it qualifies) might want to substitute it with the wonderful Symphony No. 6 by Howard Hanson which breaks different rules; instead of being in the typical fast, slow, and ultimately fast mold, it opts for slow, fast, and slow—to great effect. I say go for broke and include them both.

7. I had to choose a symphony by Henry Cowell—he completed 20 and was at work on No. 21 when he died. Folks who only know of Cowell from his inside-the-piano and tone-cluster pyrotechnics might be surprised by the lush Symphony No. 7 from 1952, which is similar in style to his numerous Hymn and Fuguing Tune compositions for various forces. The “Symphony Seven” by Charles Wuorinen (whose symphonic numbering is somewhat confusing since several have no numerical prefix and some numbers he avoided altogether)—is also a worthy candidate here, but sadly it still awaits a commercial recording.

8. One of the only clearly audible tone rows in a composition occurs at the very beginning of Roger Sessions’s Symphony No. 8, a powerful work created during the height of the Vietnam War. Another wonderful Eighth Symphony is the one by Vincent Persichetti—I’m particularly smitten with the voicings in the second movement. I’ll let you choose.

9. But for the ninth symphony slot, I’d like to propose another emotional rollercoaster from the 1960s, William Schuman’s Symphony No. 9 “Le fosse Ardeatine,” a searing work written in memoriam for the victims of the Fosse Ardeatine massacre of 1944. Then again, another really cool No. 9 is that of Irwin Bazelon, but technically it’s his tenth since after his Symphony No. 8, he titled his next one Symphony 8½ and that piece is pretty interesting, too.

10. According to the rules of this game we’re supposed to stop at nine, because Beethoven did, but many important American composers wrote more than nine symphonies and some of their best work is to be found in these higher numbers. I love the 15th Symphony of Gloria Coates, the most recent one I know of, and if I had to choose one of the 67 symphonies of Alan Hovhaness (who really belongs on this list), I’d have to go with either No. 17 for metal instruments (scored just for flutes, trombone, and percussion) or No. 50 “Mount Saint Helens.” For sheer pranksterism, I also feel compelled to include the 67th Symphony of Dennis Busch, a New Jersey-based composer who writes in the style of middle-period Haydn. That one’ll keep folks scratching their heads all night!

I’m sure there’s tons of other worthy stuff I left out, so please tell me what I’ve missed!

The Second Performance and Beyond

Music Stands

“Take a stand!” by Bill Selak on Flickr.

On June 13 in Brooklyn, a triumvirate of concerts occurred that might have been unthinkable 40 years ago. Frederic Rzewski’s musically and politically radical 1971/72 suite Coming Together/Attica was presented at two venues by three ensembles, each of the groups having planned their concerts independently, without knowledge of the other productions in the works.

If such confluence can be taken as evidence that Coming Together/Attica is a part of the contemporary repertoire today, that might come as a surprise to people who were present for the piece’s premiere—or, at the very least, to a couple of critics. Covering what he termed the “local premiere” at the State University of New York-Buffalo for The New York Times on April 12, 1974, the critic Harold C. Schonberg complained about Coming Together—which sets a paragraph written by a prisoner during the Attica prison riots to an insistently repeating five-note motif—that “the narrator operates almost like a tape loop, constantly repeating sentences. A few minutes of this, all right. But 20 minutes, and it ends up music to sleep by.”
Curiously, the Times ran a review just over a year later—on June 4, 1975—of a concert also presenting Coming Together as a premiere. (Perhaps this was the New York City premiere, although the article doesn’t specify.) The piece fared only slightly better this time around. Peter G. Davis wrote of the concert at the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, “Mr. Rzewski played his music brilliantly, but diluted the dramatic effect by declaiming the text in a barely audible and unbelievably monotone drone.” That’s all the consideration the piece got in the review of the concert, which included five other works labeled as “premieres.”

It would seem a hard road to travel from dismissive remarks in the Times to performances by Ictus Percussion, ThingNY, and Newspeak all coinciding on the same night. (The first two performances were part of Conrad Tao’s Unplay Festival at powerHouse Arena in Dumbo; the third occurred during the first night of a three-night run by Newspeak with new choreography by Rebecca Lazier at the Invisible Dog Center in Brooklyn Heights.) Of course, how a piece goes from a perhaps uneventful premiere to even somewhat standard repertoire is the new music million dollar question. But one thing seems certain: There has to be a second performance.

Rzewski Opus One LP

The original Opus One recording of Coming Together/Attica is now a rare collector’s item, but there have been at least four other recordings of these works since then.

Coming Together and its companion piece Attica (which are sometimes given the subtitles Attica I and Attica II) did grow in reputation in the years following its premiere performances. Writing about its LP release for The Village Voice in 1978, the critic and composer Tom Johnson said it epitomized a move away from chord progressions among such composers as Steve Reich and Brian Eno. “Of the many recordings of new music that are almost totally unknown, Frederic Rzewski’s Opus One album (Opus One-20) is about the finest one that I happen to know about. […] I’ve listened to it many times, been touched by its political messages, felt its rhythmic power, and strained by concentration to the hilt trying to follow its melodies as they gradually grow longer and longer.” High praise for a piece that, seven years after its composition, was still “almost totally unknown.”

Rzewski’s politically charged diptych has been performed consistently over the years. It has appeared on at least four other albums since the Opus One LP, and with Rzewski’s imprimatur, the score has been available online as a freely downloadable PDF making it readily available for performance anywhere. It’s also been in ThingNY’s repertoire for about five years and they had performed it a half dozen times, including on election night 2012 at Spectrum on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, prior to the Unplay Festival.

For the ensemble’s vocalist Gelsey Bell, the piece is still politically and musically relevant some 40 years after its conception. It was Bell who suggested they include the piece (which, not incidentally, was written more than a decade before she was born) on their Unplay program.

“Structurally it feels like a piece from the ‘70s,” she said, echoing Johnson’s assessment. “What’s nice about it is it does leave a lot open to interpretation. It feels like us doing it right now so it does still feel politically relevant. That and the fact that prisons are still a very relevant topic–it’s going to be relevant for a long time.”

The bold repetitions might not be as shocking today, she noted, but that doesn’t take away from the music.
“I think it’s a beautiful piece,” she said. “Now it might not be very surprising. Contemporary new music audiences aren’t so surprised by it, but its beauty is really obvious.”

Younger ensembles playing a piece—as with ThingNY taking on Rzewski—isn’t just a strong indicator of a piece’s chances at longevity; it’s arguably a necessary condition. Without what conductor and percussionist Steven Schick refers to as a “beta generation” of performers, a work can quickly be lost to history.

Schick

Steven Schick.
Photo by Bill Dean, courtesy Aleba & Co.

“There’s this alpha generation of performers who have contact with the composer and will inject the composition into the repertoire,” Schick said. “And then there’s what I think of as the beta generation of performers who maybe don’t have contact with the composer and make it into what we think of it as. The beta generation coming up is the sign of a piece’s success.”
Schick is big on repeat performances and said he’s performed Bone Alphabet—which he commissioned from Brian Ferneyhough in 1992—some 300 times.

“Most commissioned pieces I perform, if they aren’t picked up two or three years after I premiere it, I think something went wrong. Maybe this is more typical in percussion because we don’t have a large repertoire. If there’s a new piece by David Lang and it hasn’t been performed 40 times the day after exclusivity has expired, then I don’t know what’s going on.”

As a conductor, Schick has faced some challenging premieres, notably presenting James Dillon’s Nine Rivers at Miller Theater on the Columbia University campus in 2011. The massive undertaking calls for three stage settings and is intended to be performed on a single night with the audience moving between venues. Five scheduled premieres in Europe were canceled before Miller Theater took it on, spreading it over three nights instead of different venues. But the conductor quit three days before the opening night. Schick was called in to save the day and presented the expansive work again at the Holland Festival in June.
“The idea of maintaining some kind of coherence was very difficult,” he said of the Nine Rivers premiere. “Exactly where you are in the piece becomes a lot clearer on the third, fourth, fifth performance. The first time it was literally a case of ‘let’s get through this without anything terrible happening.’”

Schick will return to Miller this winter for two nights of concerts celebrating his 60th birthday. One night will consist of what he calls “foundational works,” including pieces by Xenakis and Stockhausen, while the second night will feature works he’s commissioned, including two premieres.

Miller Theater will also be celebrating a birthday this fall, marking 25 years since renovating and changing its name from McMillin Theater to its current moniker. Melissa Smey, who has worked with the theater for 12 years and has been executive director since 2009, is well aware of the prestige in presenting premieres, even if it doesn’t affect ticket sales.

Melissa Smey

Melissa Smey.
Photo by Eileen Barroso, courtesy Aleba & Co.

“There’s a received wisdom that they’re newsworthy; you’re adding to the field of music,” she said. “There’s an idea that there’s a glamour in a world premiere, it’s exciting, it’s new. And as a presenter, you’re getting some input as to what the piece will be.”
Smey invited British vocal troupe The Tallis Scholars to perform at the theater this fall (the concert marking yet another birthday, the ensemble’s 40th anniversary) and has commissioned composer Michael Nyman to write a new piece for them. As the commissioner, she said, she is working with Nyman to decide such details as what the accompanying instrumentation of the piece will be.

But when that piece might get a second performance is an open question. It could remain in the Tallis songbook, or of course be picked up by other ensembles. And Miller does make efforts to re-present works that they commissioned on anniversaries of their premieres. But for the most part, she said, the presenter and commissioner’s work is done once the piece is premiered.
“You have dozens of ensembles that are commissioning pieces and then they become a part of their work. It’s different for presenters. You’re serving an audience and you can’t do the same piece 18 times.

“But who decided that it must have a second performance for it to be successful?” she added. “If you were to ask a composer to write a piece and it will get played once or it will never get played, I bet they’d pick that it get played once.”

Certainly that much is true for pianist and composer Anthony Coleman. “Do I actually seek second performances?” he said with a laugh. “I guess as much as I actively seek anything.”

With at least as much history in the world of downtown improvisation as he has in formal composition, Coleman may be more accustomed than some to the sometimes ephemeral nature of musical performance. But of course he’s not inclined to turn up his nose at return engagements.

“You don’t know if a group loves you if they give a premiere,” he said. “You just know they love giving premieres. If they play it the second time, you start to think maybe they like you. It’s like a second date. A first date is so fraught–you come with your shit and you try to think of something to say. When I work with people like Tilt or Either/Or, I get the sense that we’re building a relationship. It’s very rare that the first performance doesn’t have that edge of nervousness around it.”
According to Coleman, a piece needs time—and performances—to really be discovered:

Anthony Coleman

Anthony Coleman

The good performance doesn’t usually come until a few more down the line. I wasn’t at the first performance of the Carter Double Concerto, but for sure people were like, “How is this piece supposed to unfold?” It’s like D-Day with the guns blazing and then after a few performances you can start to see what’s going on.

The first time I saw the Ligeti Études it was by a pianist named Volker Banfield, and it’s no disrespect to Volker Banfield to say he was like an explorer. He was the first person to discover the Zambezi Falls. Now it’s been discovered. It’s been proven that it can be played; it’s encouraged other pianists. And now there’s a lot more quality, there’s a lot more ease, there’s almost a philosophical formula you could say. Once somebody does it, you know that it can be done. And then a piece starts to get its own history, its own culture.

One way of ensuring repeat performances, of course, is to have a standing group—as is the case with the Bang on a Can All-Stars or Steve Reich and Musicians, for example—so that pieces can be programmed more or less at will.

“Premieres are exciting, but I think that when you’re talking about as deep an experience as hearing music, it doesn’t have anything to do with that,” said composer and Bang on a Can co-founder Julia Wolfe. “A lot of times people are like, ‘It’s already been done in New York.’ What? It’s a great piece! Why not do it again? There’s always somebody putting together an In C. Something like that, it becomes a cult piece.”

The Bang on a Can organization launched its People’s Commissioning Fund in 1998—well before such crowd-funding models as Kickstarter and Indiegogo—as a way to generate new pieces, and it has averaged three new works a year for its performance ensemble, the Bang on a Can All Stars.

“There are keepers, shall we say,” Wolfe explained. “When you commission a piece, you don’t know what’s going to happen. Sometimes everybody is struck by a piece and we say, ‘Oh my God, we’ve got to tour this piece.’”
There are many factors other than intrinsic worthiness which determine if a piece will get repeat performances after the annual PCF concert, she added.

“It really varies,” she said. “Sometimes it’s a complicated piece or it involves the composer having to be there. It’s interesting being a composer; you have to make the art and service the art. There is this part of the profession where you are making it possible for people to hear your piece. Some of the most important pieces I’ve written–like, ‘Do I really want to write for nine bagpipes?’–I’ve been amazed they’ve been done again. You just never know.”
Another thing that can guarantee repeat performances, of course, is if the funding for a commission comes with that as a requirement. Chamber Music America routinely makes multiple performances a requirement, according to CMA Chief Executive Officer Margaret Lioi.

“We are making the investment in the commission on behalf of the funder, so just to have one performance seems a little slight,” Lioi said. “We are very committed to living composers and new work, and they need to be heard by as many people as possible. Not every group commissions new work. CMA has many different kinds of members and some members are really very devoted to the traditional, western canon of music.”

Like Schick, Lioi stressed that a piece is unlikely to survive if it isn’t played: “Hearing new music and supporting composers is very much a part of the ecology of chamber music and is what will keep it vital not just for the contemporary audience but in 25 or 100 years.”

Likewise New Music USA–the parent organization of NewMusicBox–funds composers with an eye toward the longevity of their work.

“We rarely fund composers directly but we’ll probably start doing more of that,” according to Director of Grantmaking Programs Scott Winship. “However it would be unlikely that we would fund a composer without some ensemble or presenter backing it up so we see a premiere.”

Under the Commissioning Music USA program, New Music USA has traditionally required four performances of a funded piece and has encouraged that there be more, Winship said.

“It’s important in helping the piece move on,” he explained. “The ‘one-and-done’ idea wasn’t something we wanted to do. Having multiple performances gives the work a chance to shine. It’s really polished after the four performances and getting it out there gives a work a greater chance at being included in an ensemble’s repertoire. Having a piece toured and put before a lot of audiences is great for the composer.”

Eric Lyon may not have the benefit of a standing ensemble of All Stars, but he has developed a close relationship with violinists Conrad Harris and Pauline Kim Harris, writing works with them in mind and even giving the duo its stage name, String Noise. Second performances, he said, come “only in my dreams—or nightmares. Most violinists you show my work to, they’d run the other way screaming.

“I used to write for violin or oboe but now I write for Pauline or Conrad,” Lyon explained. “There are pieces I wrote for [flutist] Margaret Lancaster. She has such a strong personality that infuses it. I took the piece and had another flutist play it who was very much a delicate flower, and it became a very different piece. It was kind of shocking.”
Lyon wrote Noise Tryptych and Book of Strange Positions for the String Noise duo and has arranged punk and new wave songs specifically for them, making quick, pounding string minuets out of Black Flag’s “Gimme Gimme” and the Germs’ “Lexicon Devil,” and giving a Reichian phase treatment to Violent Femmes’ “Blister in the Sun.” He also scored the Psycho Killer Variations, based on the Talking Heads’ song, for Kim Harris.
String Noise has built up a book of pieces written for them, not just by Lyon but a number of composers, including Petr Kotik, Todd Reynolds, Elizabeth Hoffman, Matthew Welch, and others. And they not only give the pieces repeat performances, they sometimes repeat entire programs based on what Conrad Harris referred to as “cohesive units of composers.”

But, he added, he still anticipates the excitement of the first performance.

“When we have six new pieces or eleven new pieces it is a little daunting,” Harris said. “Part of the excitement is actually trying to play it. You’re probably going to have the composer in attendance and you’re going to have the excitement of the people in the audience; it sort of transcends the experience. It gets better if there is a level of excitement; it has a different energy.”
“The point of the premiere is to be all that you can be in the time you have,” Kim Harris added. “People aren’t expecting perfection. Sometimes composers aren’t satisfied or performers aren’t satisfied, but that’s the way it is.”

Kim Harris premiered Variations on Psycho Killer on April 14, 2012, at the Dimenna Center for Classical Music on Manhattan’s West Side. Since then, she has performed the piece at Bowery Electric and BargeMusic and has shot a video for it (the video itself premiering now on NewMusicBox). While the premiere performance was exhilarating, she said, it was also far from perfect. She had received the score only days before the performance and then on the night of the concert she forgot to turn off her bridge pickup before playing the piece, which calls for some fairly aggressive technique.


“Every time I would bow or finger there would be excessive pick-up noise,” she explained. “But just getting through the piece, I think, is part of the whole phenomenon, and not knowing what the piece is going to sound like—there’s no recording you can listen to. The thrill of learning something quickly and playing it for the first time—I’m addicted to it! I keep wanting people to give me something new.”

Flutist Amelia Lukas has been presenting new music since she moved to New York in 2007 under the banner Ear Heart Music, first at the Tank and more recently at Roulette. And while her fledgling organization isn’t in a position to commission pieces yet, Lukas does work to pair composers with dancers, video artists, and people from other disciplines to create a new experience even if it’s not a premiere performance.

“A lot of what I’m doing instead of commissioning is matchmaking,” she said. “They’ll come to me and say, ‘We have this musical idea’ and I can make suggestions about like minded artists they can work with. There’s so much potential for this kind of music to be happening right now. Groups want to do it. Audiences want to hear it. Audiences are looking for that total immersion experience when they go to concerts and I’m just working to provide a space where that can happen, in all ways—space, funding, resources, and developing audiences that have an understanding of music as a social response.”

But while creating a rich concert experience is important to Lukas, presenting premieres may not be one of Ear Heart Music’s primary goals:

Amelia Lukas

Amelia Lukas

The second, third, fourth, fifth hearings are as important as the premiere. Premieres have this built-in promotion machine, but they’re very often just as quickly forgotten about. It’s only when you have these repeat performances that you can sort the catalog and understand where the piece falls in terms of context and longevity.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m very into premieres. If you’re committed to this work, you’re committed to giving premieres. But looking at the back catalogs of composers, you have a much easier time of fitting a work into a program. I really do try to look at the general shape of things and when you look at those back catalogs you can really pick some gems that people don’t know about.
Sometimes it’s fun to be surprised and hear something new and sometimes it’s fun to have certain expectations and have them met or not met and be surprised.

One reason for the prevalence of premiere performances is the simple fact that there is so much more composition being done. As with record production, filmmaking, music criticism, and smartphone development, there’s just more and more music being written and therefore more and more music to premiere.

“You have so many composers, you have so many performances, it’s not possible for anyone to consume all this music,” Lukas said. “That’s why it’s presenters’ and critics’ jobs to help make those discerning choices about what gets presented.”

As Melissa Smey asked, who decided that a work must have a second performance to be successful? But on the other hand, if we drown ourselves in premieres, are we falling short of helping to decide what’s important for future generations?

“We are establishing the 21st-century canon,” according to Anthony Coleman. “There are plenty of performances of pieces by David Lang and Lachenmann. And who is the composer that as soon as they drop dead everyone will start playing? In the middle of all this bullshit, there are some pieces getting played.”

American Repertoire Spring

Reverse Flag

Reversing the ratio of American music to standard repertoire is long overdue in the programming of most American orchestras but I’ve recently been noticing a health change in direction.

Back in October 2005, I attended a performance of the Cleveland Orchestra conducted by Franz Welser-Möst at Carnegie Hall, ostensibly to hear them play Chen Yi’s Si Ji (The Four Seasons), a New York premiere. I was very glad to have been there since the piece would later be one of the three finalists for the 2006 Pulitzer Prize in Music, and sometimes it takes years for finalists and even winners to get the recognized works released on commercial recordings. Often if you don’t get to hear it live at its premiere (or in this case, an additional performance during a tour), you’re out of luck for quite a while.

However, I also remember being really annoyed at having to sit through a performance of Johannes Brahms’s Symphony No. 1 following the intermission. (Unless I’m running off to another premiere, I never leave a concert during intermission.) Now, don’t get me wrong; Brahms’s First ranks very high in my personal musical pantheon. I have multiple recordings of it at home, as well as a score which I’ve studied in depth. Back when I was a high school student, I even contemplated composing an electronic “symphony” that would conclude with variations on the famous theme from the fourth movement (though admittedly it was somewhat tongue-in-cheek since that theme was the melody for my high school’s school song). In fact, now that I’m in my late 40s, Brahms continues to be a source of inspiration to me since he didn’t complete the piece until he was 43 years old—a beacon of hope for those of us who still haven’t penned our first symphony.

So the reason I was frustrated by that Cleveland performance had nothing to do with Brahms’s music. Rather it was because I had just sat through a really tremendous live performance of Brahms’s First just 48 hours earlier done by the New York Philharmonic under the direction of guest conductor Marin Alsop only a few blocks north of Carnegie at Lincoln Center. (I was at that concert to hear a piece by James MacMillan.) With all the amazing repertoire that is out there and the fact that so little of it gets done, I was incensed that the two most prominent presenters of orchestral music in New York City would have scheduled the same piece in such close proximity; it seemed a real waste of precious resources despite my fondness for that particular symphony.

Ironically, this season I have experienced several “repeat performances” of works, and those have made me very happy. For me, one of the highlights of the 2013 Spring for Music (I attended five of the six concerts) was hearing the Detroit Symphony, under the direction of Leonard Slatkin, play all four of Ives’s numbered symphonies back to back. Yet, less than a month ago, I had heard a performance of Ives’s Fourth Symphony by the New York Philharmonic under the direction of Alan Gilbert. Admittedly, though I deeply admire Brahms’s First, I worship Ives’s Fourth and never tire of hearing it. But part of that, I think, is because it is so rarely performed.

In an even weirder twist of fate, earlier this month at the Cleveland Museum of Art I participated in a live performance of John Cage and Lejaren Hiller’s multimedia extravaganza HPSCHD , a piece that gets done with even less frequency than Ives’s Fourth, and as a result I missed the concurrent performance of the piece in New York City. However, I heard the Cleveland Orchestra led by James Feddeck perform John Adams’s Shaker Loops in Cleveland on May 1 and merely three days later I heard Marin Alsop lead the Baltimore Symphony in a performance of the same piece at Carnegie Hall on May 4—one of the same orchestras, conductors, and venues involved with my Brahms’s First double dosage from eight years ago. Again, both of these repertoire reduxes made me happy rather than annoyed.

So, did I change my outlook about multiple performances in the intervening years? No. Is it rather that I am overly nationalistic and therefore am looking the other way when the piece getting the multiple performances is American repertoire? Ah, guilty as charged! The only way that any music created on our own soil will ever be able to compete with the standard repertoire—both in terms of audience devotion to it and the high level at which it is regularly performed—is for our own music to be programmed more frequently. And, at least from what I’m gleaning from my experiences thus far this year, that seems to be starting to happen.
Like the Prague Spring of 1968 or the Arab Spring that began in 2010, we seem to have entered a kind of—allow me the indulgence—“American Repertoire Spring.” But let’s hope that unlike what happened in Czechoslovakia (an eventual clamp down and a return to the prior status quo) or what is happening in the Middle East (perhaps too soon to tell but seemingly more unrest and violence than greater freedoms for more people), this long overdue, regularly occurring embrace of music by compatriots at some of our nation’s larger cultural institutions (something you would think would have always been the case but bizarrely has not) will hopefully continue and will flourish. At every performance I attended, the audiences appeared to be ecstatic. It seems obvious that to put our own musical achievements at the forefront of what gets presented at the major venues could only serve to get a greater number of people in this country interested in going to these venues.

However, I’d be remiss if I didn’t also point out that, to my ears at least, the most extraordinarily performed concert of the entire week of Spring for Music programs seemed to be the final concert performed by Washington, D.C.’s National Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Christoph Eschenbach and that concert did not feature a single piece of American music. A tribute to Rostropovich, who served as the NSO’s music director from 1977 to 1994, the program was 100% Soviet repertoire—Slava, Slava by Rodion Shchedrin (albeit a work commissioned and premiered by the NSO), Shostakovich’s triumphant Fifth Symphony (allegedly a favorite of Stalin’s), and Alfred Schnittke’s amazing Viola Concerto, which my friend Jack Sullivan quipped afterwards sounded like a nervous breakdown set to music.

Here’s another bizarre programming twist: Of the five Spring for Music concerts I heard, two were all-American—the Ives immersion and the Albany Symphony’s program of Harbison, Gershwin, and Morton Gould’s formidable Third Symphony (a real discovery). Another two were all-Soviet—the aforementioned NSO gig and the Buffalo Phil which played Giya Kancheli’s hauntingly beautiful Morning Prayers followed by the epic Ilya Muromets by Reinhold Glière. (Admittedly the 1911 Ilya Muromets is pre-Soviet, but Glière remained in the USSR after the Bolshevik Revolution up until his death in 1956 and this piece has not really had much of a life outside of the Eastern Bloc.) Marin Alsop’s Baltimore program was half-Soviet (an incredible performance of the revised and expanded version of Prokofiev’s Fourth Symphony) and half-American (the Shaker Loops I mentioned above and a New York premiere of Jennifer Higdon’s concerto for the quasi-bluegrass trio Time for Three). All in all, this means that the repertoire for 5/6th of the proceedings were equally divided between the United States and the Soviet Union. (The program I missed breaks the paradigm. Weill’s Seven Deadly Sins was composed before he relocated to the USA, so is therefore not claimable as American repertoire. There were two works by Rachmaninoff—who, though admittedly Russian, had fled the Soviet Union and eventually emigrated to the United States—but since both of these works were composed long before his exile, they also cannot be claimed as American. And finally La Valse by French composer Maurice Ravel, which seems like a total red herring on this list.)

Anyway, as musically wonderful as the NSO’s performance was (and it really was), it seemed somewhat anticlimactic to me to present it after the DSO’s Ives bonanza. I kept wondering what someone outside our community would make of a program that offered absolutely no acknowledgement of music created in this country by an orchestra based in our nation’s capital that is named the “National Symphony Orchestra.” Clearly the American Repertoire Spring still has a long way to go.