Tag: in memoriam

Fran Richard: An Appreciation

Eve Beglarian pays tribute to Fran Richard, Honorary Board member at New Music USA, Founding Director, Vice President of Meet the Composer, and former Vice President and head of ASCAP’s Concert Music department, who passed away on February 8 at the age of 87. 

Fran is sorely missed by Board and staff, past and present, at New Music USA, and by the music community she championed and cherished. We hope you enjoy learning about Fran’s extraordinary life and work through Eve’s words. At the bottom of the page, you will also find a video that was made for a virtual tribute to Fran that New Music USA organized last March, where many composers shared their personal experiences of Fran’s incredible support.

— The New Music USA Team

Eve Beglarian (left) with Fran Richard (second from left) in 2016. Photo by Annie Watt.

I met the amazing Fran Richard in the early 1980s, soon after I arrived in New York City aiming to make my way as a composer. She hadn’t yet taken the helm of the Concert Music Division at ASCAP: she was working with John Duffy at Meet the Composer, the predecessor of New Music USA.

It’s hard to characterize how different the world of new music was in those days. Meet the Composer — then a young organization — was a breath of fresh air in a pretty pallid and constricted musical life. What we call “new music” had retreated into isolated tiny hideaways, where different sorts of music were performed for fellow aficionados and hardly ever visible in the wider culture. The simple idea of paying composers a fee to be present at performances, to introduce their work and actually interact with the public, was pretty thrilling. And the range of composers that were given these opportunities was completely transformative: that “jazz” and “classical” and “experimental” composers were treated as equally vital and necessary contributors to the art was a seemingly revolutionary claim, and one that Fran asserted every day, in every statement and every decision, big and small.

While Fran’s background was deeply rooted in the European classical tradition — she was a cellist, a musicologist, and a conductor by training — she always supported the homegrown American version — from her early days at Meet the Composer through her many years at ASCAP. Even though her ASCAP office was right across the street from Lincoln Center, that bastion of the safe and middlebrow that (with tiny exceptions) it has been for so long, her support was for music where the stakes are high, where the risks are meaningful, where the possibilities are wide open. She was more open to wildness in all its forms than her establishment position would indicate. Her standards were high, and she certainly did not suffer fools gladly or countenance fatuity in any form, but her definitions of excellence, of talent, of imagination were as capacious, as expansive, as those definitions could possibly be. Fran loved the messiness, the risk, the terror, involved in making something new, and having her as our advocate was a great gift.

Fran Richard at the 2015 ASCAP Concert Music Awards. Used with permission by ASCAP.

And Fran was an INCREDIBLE advocate. She went out to all those hidebound institutions, all those conferences and seminars and meetings where new music could easily be overlooked or neglected or shunned. And day after day, week after week, year after year, she stood up for us, testifying to the importance of what we do. New music, and the composers and performers who make it were vital and central to every single day of her life.

We all have our stories about Fran: those amazing lunches sprinkled with liberal amounts of vodka and expletives and cigarette breaks, where you felt like you were at the center of a movie of the artist’s life, a way of living that most of us didn’t and don’t experience on a regular basis! And there was nothing better than her post-concert congratulations. I think of how many premieres she heard, how many concerts she went to, but when she talked with you afterwards, it was never pro-forma, never perfunctory, never phoned in.

It was great to celebrate with Fran, but it was pretty incredible to grieve with her as well. She deeply understood that most of us composers can be fragile, a bit unsteady now and again. We do fall apart sometimes. Her ferocious warmth and loyalty and wisdom gave comfort to many of us, through many challenges. The loss of a family member, the collapse of a relationship, the failure of a much-anticipated project: Fran was there for me through the hard times, and I will carry her support and her faith in me and my work with me forever.

My guess is that the flowering we have seen in the last thirty or forty years in the world of new music in this country, the vast improvement in the health of our field: from Bang on a Can to Music Alive; from all the young composers she supported through the ASCAP Foundation Morton Gould Awards who grew up to become Missy Mazzoli and Conrad Tao and Clarice Assad and Huang Ruo and uncountable others who make the vital and varied and beautiful work that defines our time — we are all lifted up by the generosity, the vision, and the fierce and steadfast love that Fran Richard gave us all her life.

Fran Richard and Leonard Bernstein at Bernstein’s 70th birthday party, held at ASCAP in 1989. Photos used with permission by ASCAP.


Fran was known for her passionate support of composers and the impact she had on them at pivotal moments in their careers. At a virtual tribute to Fran organized by New Music USA last March, many of the composers who attended credited Fran with changing their lives. Fran’s unwavering commitment to composers extended through all areas of her life, including her long tenure as a Board member of New Music USA. If you would like to learn more about how you can support the composers and music community that Fran so dearly treasured, please click here.

Garlands for Steven Stucky

After the passing of Steven Stucky on Valentine’s Day of 2016, Christopher Rouse, Steve’s friend of 40 years, wrote on this website:

I don’t think I’m alone in seeing Steve as the sort of person we all wish we were. Even had he lacked the musical genius he did in fact possess, his way of living his life and treating all with kindness and respect would have been a model worth emulating for anyone. Loved by so many, we have lost not only a great composer, but the dearest of friends. I wonder how we will be able to go on without him.

Steve died much too soon—and for so many of us, unacceptably—at the age of 66. His unusually aggressive brain cancer had been diagnosed only three months earlier.

Steven Stucky died much too soon—and for so many of us, unacceptably—at the age of 66.

I met Steve in 1988 upon his arrival at the Los Angeles Philharmonic, where I had been working steadily as an “extra” alongside the redoubtable principal keyboard player, Zita Carno. Steve’s tenure there as resident composer and new music advisor lasted for 21 years, the longest such affiliation between a composer and an American orchestra. I was a frequent participant during most of those years in much of the new music programming for the LA Phil’s orchestral series and Green Umbrella concerts. Steve, having largely determined much of that programming, was present at every rehearsal, always exuding his special combination of bemused, gracious, self-deprecating erudition. Over time we became friends, and his interests became my interests. As the foremost authority on the music of Witold Lutosławski, he was my guiding light as I prepared my CD Piano Music of Salonen, Stucky, and Lutosławski. The 2009 Grammy Award bestowed on me for that recording is an honor that I owe in no small part to Steve.

The day after Steve died, Deborah Borda, then-President of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, phoned to tell me about an April tribute concert already being organized by the Philharmonic. Several of Steve’s friends and former students were being invited to write short piano pieces (one or two minutes each) in Steve’s memory, and she asked me to organize the pianists. There would ultimately be six works, by Fang Man, Anders Hillborg, Magnus Lindberg, James Matheson, Joseph Phibbs, and Esa-Pekka Salonen, interspersed with music by Steve and Lutosławski. The pianists, all associated with Piano Spheres, Los Angeles’ piano series devoted to new music, would be, respectively, Mark Robson, Susan Svrček, Steven Vanhauwaert, Nic Gerpe, Vicki Ray, and myself.

Following the announcement of the upcoming program, I heard from a few of Steve’s countless composer friends who were expressing a wish to dedicate a piano homage of their own. Though I was not empowered to add them to the Philharmonic’s program, I knew that I couldn’t ignore their heartfelt offers, that I would be in touch afterwards, and that this had the makings of a very good idea that would embody all the goodness that Steve had brought to so many of our lives. Later that spring I began inviting them and others to contribute additional pieces to the initial set of six for a collection that would be called Garlands for Steven Stucky. With the original six pieces having been such powerful declarations of love and friendship, and knowing how many more of Steve’s eminent, emotionally devastated friends and students would want to honor him similarly, I felt that a CD would be the necessary endgame. Unsurprisingly, my wish list of essential invitees, compiled with the help of Christopher Rouse, Donald Crockett, and Steve’s widow, Kristen Stucky, grew very, very long. I had to limit the number to just 24 more composers who then wrote their hearts out to honor Steve in the way they do best.

The Garlands

Julia Adolphe: Snowprints
Julian Anderson: Capriccio
Charles Bodman Rae: Steven Stucky in memoriam
Chen Yi: In Memory of Steve
Louis Chiappetta: This is no less curious
Donald Crockett: Nella Luce
Brett Dean: Hommage à Lutosławski
Fang Man: That raindrops have hastened the falling flowers: in memory of Steven Stucky
Gabriela Frank: Harawi-cito de charanguista ciego
Daniel S. Godfrey: Glas
John Harbison: Waltz
Anders Hillborg: Just a Minute
Pierre Jalbert: Inscription
Jesse Jones: Reverie
William Kraft: Music for Gloria (In Memoriam Steven Stucky)
Hannah Lash: November
David Lefkowitz: In Memoriam: Steven Stucky
Magnus Lindberg: Fratello
David Liptak: Epitaph
Steven Mackey: A Few Things, in memory of Steve
James Matheson: CHAPTER I: In which our hero dies and encounters Palestrina, Brahms, Debussy, Ligeti, Lutosławski and other dead loves; looks out to see the entire universe before him, and prepares to visit all of the amazing shit therein
Colin Matthews: some moths for Steve
Harold Meltzer: Children’s Crusade
Eric Nathan: In memoriam
Joseph Phibbs: in memory of Steven Stucky
Kay Rhie: Interlude
Christopher Rouse: Muistomerkki
Esa-Pekka Salonen: Iscrizione
Michael Small: Debussy Window
Stephen Andrew Taylor: Green Trees Are Bending
Andrew Waggoner: …and Maura Brought Me Cookies (Remembering Steve)
Judith Weir: Chorale, For Steve

As the recording was shaping up to be a collective portrait of friendship, I invited two more of Steve’s trusted collaborators, Peabody Southwell (mezzo-soprano) and Carolyn Hove (oboe), to join me on the CD. Together, we close the recording with Steve’s Two Holy Sonnets of Donne (1982), based on John Donne’s defiant, mocking proclamations on the powerlessness of death.

Holding 32 individual, deeply-felt relationships in my hands has been fulfilling beyond words.

For the 32 composers, I imagine that it must have felt hardly possible to write a one- to two-minute piece that expressed all that they wanted to say about Steve. “How could I even begin to capture the depth and quiet intensity of this man?” asks Esa-Pekka Salonen in his liner note. For me, holding 32 such individual, deeply-felt relationships in my hands has been fulfilling beyond words. As reflections on Steve as a friend and teacher, the Garlands are by no means a compilation of mournful dirges. I note many cheery portrayals of him, such as in Julia Adolphe’s reimagining of his “giddy excitement” during composition lessons, Pierre Jalbert’s inclusion of a “fast rhythmic section (Steve’s wit and humor),” and Steven Mackey’s evocation of “the playful banter” that they shared. We also see Steve invoked several times in quotations of his music and of music that he loved, and in opening motives that seem to summon him with the pitches B-flat (si), E-flat (es), and G (sol), representing his initials.

Steven Stucky with Esa-Pekka Salonen and Gloria Cheng,

Steven Stucky with Esa-Pekka Salonen and Gloria Cheng (photo by Carlos Rodriguez)

Proceeds from our CD sales and royalties will be donated to the Steven Stucky Composer Fellowship Fund. The fund was established by the Los Angeles Philharmonic to honor Steve’s vision of engaging young composers in multi-year educational programs with the orchestra. The Composer Fellowship Program continues to flourish under Program Director Andrew Norman and Teaching Artist Sarah Gibson.

The Garlands project follows another CD honoring Steve, Steven Stucky: Chamber Music, issued a year ago by pianist Xak Bjerken, Steve’s longtime colleague at Cornell, on Open G Records. I believe that I speak for all of us in hoping that we might somehow be sending a thanks to Steve for enriching our lives as he did, and for leaving us with the enduring gifts of his music, his writings, and above all, the unforgettable feast that it was have him as such an extraordinary and exemplary friend.

Garlands for Steven Stucky (Bridge 9509). Photo by Jeffrey Herman.