Since 1973, Lucie Arnaz has been, as they say, treading the boards. In those early days it was in Summer Stock (you kids can look that one up). But it wasn’t too long before she originated her first role in the musical They’re Playing Our Song. The 1979 Broadway hit had songs by Marvin Hamlisch and Carole Bayer Sager and a book by Neil Simon.

Later in her career she originated the part of Alexandra Spofford in the musical adaptation of The Witches of Eastwick.

Throughout her career Arnaz has performed such roles as Sally Bowles in Cabaret, Princess Winnifred in Once Upon a Mattress, Mabel Normand in Mack and Mabel and Berthe in Pippin. She’s had a vast career and it is precisely that career she is celebrating in her show I Got the Job! – Songs From My Musical Past which she will perform on October 22nd and 23rd at Catalina Jazz Club in Los Angeles and October 30th and November 1st at Feinstein’s at the Hotel Nikko in San Francisco. Between those dates she’s performing An Intimate Evening with Lucie Arnaz at the Purple Room in Palm Springs October 25th – 27th.

For those who don’t already know, Arnaz is the daughter of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz. She grew up in and around showbiz royalty.

Recently I spoke with Arnaz about her stage career, the shows she’s doing and what the future might have in store for her – whether on a Broadway stage or elsewhere. What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity. To see the full interview, please go to our YouTube channel.

Q: I want to ask you about something your mother is quoted as having said she said, “I’d rather regret the things I’ve done than regret the things I haven’t done.” As you as you were putting this show together, what role did time and perspective give you in reviewing the jobs you got and the jobs you didn’t? 

It’s a good question, actually. You look back on it now – several decades after you’ve done some of these shows – and the choices I make, even to pick the material from the show, sometimes I picked songs that my character didn’t even sing because another song means more to me now. Or there’s a better story that goes along with it or something. In this particular show, I’m not 100% sure that it affected what I choose to sing.

It’s my most authentic show to me because it really is how I started and how I got from point A to point B by playing all these different characters. So each and every song is a little scene. It’s a playlist from that show, even if I do it in a little bit different way.

I want to take you back to when you were 22 because you appeared in two productions of musicals that are actually on Broadway now. You were Princess Winifred in Once Upon a Mattress, which was in Dayton, Ohio, and you were Sally Bowles in Cabaret in Flint, Michigan. What resonates with you most about that time of your life being in those two shows? 

Just the most amazing opportunity to really learn your craft here in regional theaters or what they used to call summer stock in those days. And you had to put a show together with a week of rehearsal. So you better come knowing your stuff. And I had been trained, you know, on live three-camera, live audience television, which we did sort of the same way. We had a week to put a show together and know everything you’re going to do and then perform it in less than a week – four days.

I guess Mattress was my first, and I just loved it. I loved that you had to work as a team and get that show on in such a short period of time. It was just fantastic training, really. I love it. I made a family of friends that I still have to this day because you’re all in the trenches together to get that to happen.

What is easier to put together that quickly: the comedic role of Princess Winifred, in the course of a week or to put together a Sally Bowles in a week? 

I think it’s equally challenging because, for example, using Once Upon a Mattress. There’s so much physical stuff to do in that show: the climbing and all of the pratfall. She was a real interesting character to play and you had to be really good at it to make it look really bad. To make it look foolish. And so they don’t have a lot of time to do that. I worked really hard to make her believable. That’s all I ever really want to do is make these people believable. It could be a comedy. It could be a drama. To me, it’s kind of the same.

My mother, you mentioned her in the beginning, she always was believable. Their writers were so good that they wrote situations that were crazy predicaments. You would think, how on earth? But they were so brilliantly constructed that you believed what they were going to go do. And as long as that’s written that way, then you can just fly with it and think this actually could happen.

Last year I spoke to Gavin Creel, who was doing Into the Woods. He talked to me about his time in Chicago working on Bounce with Stephen Sondheim. Hal Prince was director. He talked about what the experience was like to be in the room and watching people struggle to do the best work that they could for a given show. You’ve been in that situation several times. They’re Playing Our Song was one of them, where you got to be in the room with Marvin Hamlisch, Carole Bayer Sager and Neil Simon. What was that experience for you?

That is such a gift. I can’t tell you. It’s only happened to me twice in my life where I could be in the middle of the making of a brand new musical. And it’s always a little different. When I did Witches of Eastwick in London with Cameron Mackintosh and all those gals and stuff. It was a slightly different experience, much bigger deal, all the flying. It was Cameron Mackintosh and bazillions of dollars and whatnot. [With They’re Playing Our Song] we were doing a two character musical in Los Angeles. We had three weeks of rehearsal, Witches had four months. To watch these geniuses, people like Marvin and Neil, figure out what works, what doesn’t, and why.

One of the things I learned from [Marvin], which just changed the way I look at myself forever because we were rehearsing a number – one of the ballads – and I’m trying to find my way around the song. How am I going to sing it? Where am I going to breathe? And he stopped and he said, okay, okay, wait, stop. I think I want to lower the key here for you in this song. I was so devastated. I was so embarrassed. Many people heard him say that. I went, Marvin, I’m so sorry. I know I can hit these notes. I kind of go at it easy in the beginning. And then he goes, “Stop. Would you stop already? You think I’m married to these notes?” And I looked at him like, What are you talking about? He said, “Lu, I hired you for the sound, the quality of your voice. Every instrument is different.” I was a singer. A composer like Marvin Hamlisch wanted to write a song for me. It changed my life.

Then to watch Neil watch us try to stage a scene. He’s Neil Simon. He’s the most prolific comedy writer. He’s chewing on his glasses and he doesn’t look happy. I got really nervous as I thought, what if I get fired? What if he decides these kids are not the right kids for this? He got up and he left. I panicked and we finished the day. We still didn’t stage the thing properly. The next day he came in and handed us all new pages and said, “When anything is that hard to stage, it’s always the writing.” He just went home and rewrote it and he didn’t even rewrite it that much. Boom, it staged itself. I just loved that that he didn’t sit there and blame somebody else.

Let me ask you about something you posted on Facebook on October 9th. You said “It’s stressful times. Let Ron Abel [her music director] and I take your pain away for 85 minutes.” How does doing this show take away your pain and does that relief last longer than 85 minutes for you? 

This show is a feel good explosion of emotions all over the board. I focus a lot to do it. And I go into this other wonderful world, this memory world, and play a whole slew of characters that I have had the opportunity to do. I think for people who are, let’s just say a little anxious right now, it’s healthy because I truly believe in sort of a woo woo metaphysical way of looking at life. That we need to visualize what we want the new Earth to be like, the new planet to be like, the new politics, if you will. How are we going to care for one another? How are we going to learn to be kind again? When I watch too much of my favorite shows like MSNBC or CNN or whatever, or read too much of the New York Times, it can be very stressful and it’s not helping me visualize the alternatives. So these days I’m looking for Lucie Arnaz shows. I’m looking for places to go where people are going to take me out of this week.

I think people have to work hard right now to keep their batteries charged and don’t give up. Don’t lose hope. We’ll get through this together. There may be some turbulence along the way. It could be severe turbulence. Buckle up. But when we get to the other side, the dust is going to settle and it’s going to be a different, better scenario for everybody. That’s my feeling.

I’m going to ask you to go back in the time machine one more time, and that’s to September 17th, 1967. You appeared, uncredited, as the girl in the golf cart on the second episode of The Mothers in Law. What would you tell that teenage girl about what her life and her career would be?

That’s a good question. Really? If I could go back to me at that age, I would just tell her to just settle the hell down. I look back and I go, honey, I didn’t know who I was. I had this way of talking. It was just bizarre. I just had no idea what I was good at. I had no idea where I was going. My brother was already in a rock group and was a rock and roll star at 11. My mother had this great television series. My father was a producer, ran a studio. [He] had this band, he made all this gorgeous music. What is it that I do? I hadn’t found the theater yet. I would just say, Honey, know that you are enough. You will find your bliss. Find the thing that belongs to you and stick with it. That’s what I eventually did. But if I could get to her just a tiny bit sooner, I think I would have been a lot happier.

You do realize you’re describing what most teenagers go through which is not knowing what they want to do when they’re teenagers. Plus you were surrounded by a very different family dynamic.

I kind of knew I would be in the business. I just wasn’t sure how to do it. I always loved performing: a little theater, my backyard. I picked my high school because it had a theater arts department that was great. I kind of knew I was going to get there somehow. I guess if we could go to our teenage self, we’d say, settle down, you’re going to be fine. You’re good, just as you are, honey. Don’t try to be everybody else. You have to find your own voice, your own way of performing a song.

And indeed you have. That’s what you’ll be celebrating in these shows.

Indeed I will.

To watch the full interview with Lucie Arnaz, please go here.

All photos of Lucie Arnaz courtesy Catalina Jazz Club.

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Conductor Elim Chan has had remarkable success since being named the first woman to win the Donatella Flick Conducting competition ten years ago. This month Chan is realizing two big dreams: to open the classical music season at the Hollywood Bowl and to conduct the First Night of the Proms in London at Royal Albert Hall. Not too bad for a young girl who years ago was inspired by Mickey Mouse in Fantasia.

The July 9th concert at the Hollywood Bowl finds Chan conducting the same piece that led to her winning the Donatella Flick LSO Conducting Competition: Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade. The July 19th First Night of the Proms concert will open with Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks Overture and close with Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5.

Earlier this week I spoke with Chan about these two concerts and what they mean to her, her evolving relationship with Scheherazade and what new dreams she has as she moves forward with her career.

What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity. To see the full interview with Chan, please go to our YouTube channel.

Q: Could the young girl who responded so passionately to the image of Mickey Mouse conducting in Fantasia have ever imagined these two big concerts for herself?

Absolutely not. Even though as a young girl I think I had quite a crazy imagination. Of course I have dreams. But this kind of dream, the Hollywood Bowl, it’s already very cool. And to think I’m going to start the classical season! Then the Proms is basically like a unicorn. To conduct the Proms on the first night – the biggest summer festival in the UK and famous one in the world? It’s more than a dream come true.

What was your first experience conducting the Proms, and how do you think this one will be different? 

The first time that I conducted the Proms was an amazing experience because the Royal Albert Hall, it’s a very different concert hall. You really feel that you’re in sort of like a stadium. You have the audience standing at your feet and you can literally touch them or they can touch you. The feeling of how the audience cheered for you and they really are so involved. That’s really quite something I never experienced anywhere else. That was such a huge honor. I felt like a rock star.

To know that this concert was like one of the first ones to be sold out; the tickets were gone the moment it went out there. I don’t know, I’m going to just stay open and let this just be a surprise.

We often hear about how conductors think about music. What do you think is unique about the way you hear music – whether you’re reading a score or when you’re conducting an orchestra? 

I think that’s a very interesting question. Conducting is so cool in the sense that I have this concept in my head, this story, a narrative or some sort of sound soundscape the moment I start opening a score. It starts. I can hear it. I can play it on the piano and then it builds this world that I’m hearing or envisioning.

When I’m on stage with the orchestra, I have to compare what I’m hearing with this vision in my head and then have to bring it closer. Sometimes, actually, what I’m hearing is nicer than what I thought. It’s like a constant synergy of both worlds. It’s, in a way, like a tango, right? Of course, I’m the conductor and I want to mold it in the end that we arrive at the vision that we’re all happy about.

I interviewed conductor Simone Young four years ago, and she told me that, “Everything comes from the written page. I spend hours and hours studying scores, but also studying manuscripts. References. I want to get as much info about the thought process and the work process.” Do you think there can be a definitive understanding of a composer’s thought process? Or will it always be open to interpretation?

I think the second. I also do the same. I want to really put myself back in the time, in the context. This is really, I feel, like investigative work. There’s like a crime scene. Something happened. Okay, what really happened? You can collect evidence. You can talk to people who think they saw the thing happened. But each perspective is different. Then collecting all these things and then I try to build an interpretation of what exactly happened because no one actually really knows. And I think this is so cool. That’s the beauty of it, that there’s really not one right way. We’re all interpreters in that sense.

At the Proms, you’re going to be conducting probably one of the top five best known compositions in the history of the world: Beethoven’s Fifth. With a work so familiar to audiences and so familiar to the musicians, how do you think your approach to it might be the only one that you, as an individual, could have imagined? 

Well, there’s only one Elim, right? In that sense. It will be my interpretation of it. One thing that came out from this whole crazy time, and we’re still in some crazy times, is that I really want to give this life experience to everyone who is there. That you need to be there to experience that because it only happens once.

Beethoven Five is so familiar. And the audience thinks they know, too. The world is so messed up with wars happening everywhere and we get to make music and to celebrate first night of the Proms. The beginning of Beethoven Five is like a moment to really express something that fuels it to become a Beethoven Five that is fresh and happening now.

How often do you surprise yourself in the middle of a concert?

A lot. I laugh actually when mistakes happen because that shocks everyone. I love those very raw like a minute or two and everyone is like, wait, what? Oh no. And everyone’s awareness is insane, right? I love these waking up moments.

That sounds like a jazz musician, not a classical musician. Because a jazz musician moves past the mistakes and who knows where it leads them? I bring that up because I was very surprised to see a list of the five most important works for you and Bill Evans is on your list. What inspires you most about Bill Evans and do you see a way in which the way Bill Evans created and performed music that inspires the way you create and perform music?

He’s such an immense pianist and musician and it’s not ever the same. This is something I really want to take into a Beethoven Five or a Clara Schumann or Handel, Bruckner. I’m going to just take this opportunity and just really bring in that spirit. I think we can learn so much from all the other genres.

Note: First Night of the Proms includes performances of Clara Schumann’s Piano Concerto by Isata Kanneh-Mason and Bruckner’s Psalm.

You’ll be leading the Los Angeles Philharmonic at the Hollywood Bowl. Music director Gustavo Dudamel is set to leave soon. if the L.A. Philharmonic came to you and asked if you would like to be the next music director, what would be the first thing that you would think? 

That’s another unicorn. And then I’ll start doing a happy dance. I will probably be like, unbelievable. You know what? If that happens…thank you and let’s get to work. I want to be as ready as possible They are one of the most adventurous, curious, orchestras institutions in the world. They take chances, they take risks, and they can afford to do it. So yeah. Let’s see.

At the Hollywood Bowl you will be revisiting Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade. How was your relationship to this particular composition evolved in the ten years since your winning the Donatella Flick Conducting Competition?

The piece has a very special place in my heart. It’s the piece that jump started my career. Ten years ago I was the first woman to win the competition in London. And now ten years later, I’m still the only woman to have done that. And I’m like, hey girls, where are you guys?

Talking about the piece itself, it’s literally about a woman having to stand up for herself every night telling stories, and if she doesn’t tell a good story, she gets killed. I’ve done this piece again and again and I really feel very like I identify myself with her – Scheherazade. Each time I do the piece I get more brave. I’m more convinced that we really need to be strong. My interpretation is like a steady slow cook. It takes more flavor. Every time I go back to it, I still see something new and I want to try something new so I can tell the story in different ways. I really love the fact that this piece lends itself for that. 

Rimsky-Korsakov is quoted as having said, “I had no idea of the historical evolution of the civilized world’s music, and had not realized that all modern music owes everything to Bach.” Do you agree that all modern music, even today, owes everything to Bach? 

Wow, what a statement! I think a lot of it, yes. I always believe that we all need to actually understand what happened in the past, especially Bach as such a master. To really understand what the traditions [were] that came before. Then you can decide to keep it or break it. All the greats follow Bach. If you look back, Brahms, Beethoven, everyone basically comes from there.

We started the conversation by my asking you if you could have imagined opening the classical season at the Hollywood Bowl and then opening the BBC Proms in London. That seems like a dream come true. But everybody has to have new dreams as well. What dreams do you have beyond what this July is going to offer you?

My dream is to find an orchestra, a place where we can do some crazy things and grow together, fly together. Another dream of mine actually will come true is that I finally can do some opera. I came from voice choirs and so I love theater, I love drama. So what’s better than actually opera to have all these elements coming together? This is like in two years. There are crazy dreams to conduct the Berlin Philharmonic, the Vienna Philharmonic, all this stuff. Sometimes I put a dream and then things like the First Night of the Proms comes in. So in a way, I’m like, life – come on, surprise me.

To view the full interview with Elim Chan, please go here.

All Photos: Elim Chan (Photo ©Simon Pauly/Courtesy for artists)

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A Strange Loop has opened at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles where it will play through June 30th. If you haven’t seen A Strange Loop, the musical is about a Black, gay usher (named Usher) working at The Lion King, who writes a musical about a Black, gay usher, working at The Lion King…of course, that’s the easy description.

Jackson did not rest on his laurels. His musical White Girl in Danger ran off-Broadway last spring. His new musical, Teeth, written with Anna K. Jacobs, opened at Playwrights Horizon earlier this year and is transferring to New World Stages this fall.

With A Strange Loop coming to Los Angeles, I knew it would be a challenge to be one of those people asking Jackson questions. I saw the show in New York and loved it, but there were things I wanted to know. Thankfully Jackson agreed to the interview you are about to read.

Of course, what follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity. But you can watch the full conversation on the Cultural Attaché YouTube channel.

Q: What has this musical that you’ve given the world taught you over the course of your five year journey, which I know is a much longer journey because you had been working on it for 20 years?

It taught me that persistence is key and that we, as human beings, have a lot more in common than we have not in common. That’s been an interesting sort of lesson to learn each time I encounter the piece out in the world.

While in New York I strongly encouraged a straight couple and their teenage daughter to see A Strange Loop. I wasn’t fully sure how they would respond. They all came out of it loving it because they saw themselves in Usher. Is that the response you hoped for when writing the show?

The show is about a character who is exploring very explicitly his own internal makeup. I feel that when people watch it, they can’t help but do that for themselves. So it’s an exploration of the self. He is a fat, Black gay man. That’s the makeup that he has to work with. That’s not what everybody else’s makeup is necessarily, but they all have whatever their makeup is. 

Why do you think the show has resonated the way it has?

I think because the show is very open and very truthful and honest – sort of to its fault lines. It says things out loud that most people don’t really talk about openly, except maybe with an intimate friend or therapist. I think that it gives people permission to wade into certain territory that they wouldn’t ordinarily do in mixed company. 

And yet they all end up on their feet at the end of the show.

I think Usher’s journey is a really interesting one where he’s so miserable for so much of it and yet, by the end of it, there’s a brief but amazing moment of self-acceptance. I think that’s a cool change to watch. 

You’ve regularly been asked about how autobiographical this show is and I love your response that it’s emotionally autobiographical. Do you think people finally understand that you are not Usher and Usher is not you?

No, I don’t understand that at all. I’ll just keep telling them that until I’m dead in the grave and even beyond then. I’ll keep telling them it’s not autobiographical, but that there’s still many people who won’t believe me.

Why do you think that is? Nobody thinks that. Nobody thinks that Stephen Sondheim is Joanne in Company. 

Right? I mean, I think it’s because there is so much about it that is personal. Usher is, you know, a fat Black gay man with a famous name who’s writing a musical. I am a fat Black gay man with a famous name. I never said that it’s not a personal piece or that I didn’t draw from personal experience. I just said it’s not autobiographical because autobiography is a specific genre. It’s a specific form. That’s not what A Strange Loop is. It’s something stranger, frankly. As much as you want to make it be about me, there’s just too many ways in which it isn’t.

If anything, it’s a self portrait. It’s an attempt to capture a kind of experience from the inside. Something that I began when I was about 23 years old. I’m now 43 years old, so I’m literally not the same person. I have a very different life now than I did then.

For the original Broadway production the entire cast was queer-identifying. Is that something that is part of what you want all productions to embrace? 

I just saw a production in Boston which was the first regional production of it that wasn’t affiliated with the Broadway production. Everyone in the production identifies as Black. But there was one cast member who I believe was like a Puerto Rican or something. Everybody in that production was queer. Not everybody in this production is. Not everybody in the London production was queer either. But they all rose to the task of the character, of the spirit of the piece. I’m really excited, as it continues to be produced, for companies to decide for themselves what the spirit of the piece is, how they’re going to do that, and who are the people who they’re going to task with honoring the spirit of the piece.

I’m not going to say that I want there to be like an all-straight A Strange Loop or anything like that. But I will say that I believe in performance. I believe in acting. I believe in the material. I think there’s more flexibility in how and who can do that. I’m interested in how far people can push it before it becomes something else.

You went on as Usher for three performances in January of 2023. What your perspective being on stage watching a Broadway house see your show, particularly when it got to the point where you’re doing AIDS is God’s Punishment? 

It was a really profound and they were powerful performances for me. I went from having lived the life that I drew from in order to write this piece, to having to then perform the piece and direct that outward. I’m the only person in the history of A Strange Loop who looked at clouds from both sides now. I’d seen it from both vantage points. I felt the loop in both directions. I feel very blessed to have had that opportunity to do that.

Getting to AIDS is God’s Punishment, that song has so many meanings to me, in part because of things that have happened in my life that influenced the writing of it. It was an honor for me to step inside of that and get to literally embody it for those performances. 

I don’t know what your perspective was on stage, but I know sitting in the audience when Usher encourages to clap along, I just said, oh no, no, no, there is no way I’m clapping along to this. Did you see people with hesitation? Did you see a divide, people who clap and people who won’t at all?

My favorite part of A Strange Loop is the moment when everyone has to decide what their relationship to the gospel play is. I clap every single time. Every time I see the show, I clapped. It’s my honor to clap. I love it. Some people start and they stop. Some people never start. Some people look around and are angry that other people are clapping. Some people are confused.

But all of those responses are literally what Usher wants. That’s what it feels like to be him. It’s to have conflicted emotions in this sort of musical fantasia. In this hate-filled but beautifully underscored, beautifully sung gospel moment. That’s what it feels like inside of him. He is directing that outward so that people can experience it because he’s been showing you his impression of it the whole time. But until you’re in it, you’ll never know.

There’s a lyric in Tyler Perry Writes Real Life: “I’m into entertainment that is undercover art.” How much does that ideal guide you whether you were creating A Strange Loop or White Girl in Danger or Teeth?

I’m always pushing for entertainment that’s undercover art. That’s the work that I’ve always liked the best. That’s what inspired me. I looked to this as my guiding light and my guiding star as I was honing my craft and learning how to make the work I wanted to make. But that work is not always going to win the box office.

How much do you want to express yourself in a way that is organic and natural to you as opposed to trying to satisfy algorithms or any other formulas that either computers or executives think are the way to make art work? 

I’m often thinking about that, about how I don’t want to sell out. I want to honor my artistry. But it’s getting a lot harder. The economics of theater are so, so, so, so, so difficult. I’m often wondering, what do I do? Because it’s not really in me to sell out. I spent so many years perfecting the thing that I do that I don’t just have this other instinct in my back pocket. It doesn’t come naturally to me. I guess that means I have to continue to push my little Sisyphean boulder up the hill and see if I can get it to the top, or if it will press me on the way down.

I read the tweet that you posted on April 8th in relation to Jerrod Carmichael’s reality show. You wrote, “Every act of content creation is an act of content destruction. Stop wasting our time. We have less of it to spend than we think.” I love the idea that every act of content creation is an act of content destruction.

Joni Mitchell has this lyric on her 1972 song Electricity that goes, “I’m out of touch with the breakdown of this century.” That’s sort of how I feel in the content era. Everybody’s on their phone. There’s a meme for every emotion that you could possibly feel or not feel. There’s this constant pressure to broadcast every aspect of your life. I have been very guilty of this, so I’m not at all above it, but I do think that everything about our lives is so disposable. And I just hate that.

I never thought that everything was so disposable growing up when I was reading books or watching movies or TV. Maybe it is, but I’m resistant to that. I want the art that I try to make, I want it to last. I want it to mean something to people and to be something that you can go back to and that it can resonate with you beyond just the moment that you watch a two second clip of it online or a meme. I don’t want to be a meme. For good or for ill, that’s what I’ve been trying to do all these years.

Langston Hughes is quoted as saying, “Perhaps the mission of an artist is to interpret beauty to people, the beauty within themselves.” How has the totality of the experience of A Strange Loop allowed you to accept that you have interpreted your own beauty and how will that inspire you moving forward? 

It’s been a real loop roller coaster ride for me because sometimes I would feel like, wow, what a cool thing I’ve made that has shown, as you say, beauty to the world. But then other times I felt like, oh, God, I made something that’s just a vehicle for narcissism and navel gazing. But then I come back to I made something that is a real vehicle for a lot of Black actors to come together, to tell a story of a person trying to find themselves and somewhat succeeding. That feels like a win. So I can only hope that continues. That there’s a will to continue to tell that story and to find artists who want to tell that story as difficult as it is to tell.

To watch the full interview with Michael R. Jackson, please go here.

Main Photo: Michael R. Jackson (Photo by Zack DeZon/Courtesy Center Theatre Group)

The post Michael R. Jackson Is Not Usher in “A Strange Loop” appeared first on Cultural Attaché.

The comma in the album’s title is important to Hersch. Silent isn’t describing the listening. Being silent and listening are two distinctly separate qualities that were of paramount importance to him while recording Silent, Listening and the qualities he hopes listeners might employ when they put on the album. Which they should.

I recently spoke with Hersch about his concepts for this album, how the resurgence of vinyl impacts the albums he’s making and how he’s challenging himself to do something we haven’t heard before. What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity. To watch the full interview with Fred Hersch, please go to our YouTube channel.

Q: What is the role of silence in your music and in your life?

Without silence you can’t have music or much of anything else. This is maybe my 12th or 13th solo album. I think the title of this project partially refers to the the specific place and circumstances around the recording of the album. In a fantastic auditorium in Switzerland at the Swiss Radio in Lugano, a legendary auditorium, with superb acoustics, fantastic piano. I was prepared. I had some things that I wanted to play, but, I also left a lot open to the last minute.

I think there’s a lot of patience on this record; playing something and seeing how it lands. Play the next thing. As an improvising musician, that’s how you always want to be. You want to play the phrase and then see where it lands, and then the next thing comes. And if you have a goal or an expectation, then often you’ll be disappointed. Just like life. I like to be in that zone where I’m really minutely paying attention to each detail, which leads to the next thing. There’s a lot of what I call spontaneous composition on the record, open improvisation, whatever you want to call it. Just paying attention to the sonority, not the chord, just the actual sound. So sound was a factor and the beautiful silence that you get playing in a room like that.

I love the way you allow notes to just fade away. Then there’s a pause before you go on to something else. It feels like you’re not only allowing yourself to be patient, but you’re asking your listeners to be patient as well.

I think this record really unfolds almost like a suite. It’s kind of contra to the way that people consume music these days. I believe in the value of an album as a statement; a small film, if you will, a story. I think this album tells a story and builds on itself. A lot of the selections I didn’t plan to play. They just arrived. Certainly the spontaneous pieces just arrived, but when we put it together, we were totally in agreement about the sequence. It’s not just a series of tracks. It’s very much a unified statement. And the glue that holds it together is just sound. It’s a pretty immersive album.

In the press notes for this album you are quoted as wanting to have tell a story with this album. Yet, at the same time, you’re saying that some of the pieces just came to you as you were in the place. I’m assuming that you had the story deeply embedded into your heart and soul so that you knew what those pieces would be that came to you.

No. I had no title at all. I had a list of titles of artworks by Robert Rauschenberg. I would just assign, like Night Tide Light, that’s the title of a collage by Rauschenberg. Volon. I don’t know what volon means, but it’s an interesting word, so we just picked that. But the story emerged. There was no real intent. I think the story just arrived.

Manfred’s a great producer. What he says and also what he doesn’t say. Sometimes he just let me work stuff out. Other times he might say something. At one point he went into the audience, which was helpful. A couple of tunes I just played for fun, and he said, I really love those. I didn’t intend to play them. It was very much something that unfolded as we did it. But once we had the pieces, we completely agreed this is how the story gets told. Sometimes the pieces led very smoothly into each other. Sometimes there’s a very jarring contrast. It’s very cinematic, I think. But it wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to make a record with him in that place on that piano and see what happened. And so this is what happened right now.

I can’t help but believe that there is, whether intentional or not, a bit of a commentary about the cacophonous and easily-distracted world we live in. 

Yeah, I mean, that would be really nice if people would slow down and paid attention. I play in concerts in my home club, the Village Vanguard, people are quiet. It’s maybe the one time in the day where they are away from their cell phone for 75 minutes – hopefully. The final track, Winter of My Discontent, I learned 45 years ago. The lyrics are really relevant to our time. Whenever I play any kind of standard or anything that has words, I’m really singing the words as I’m playing the melody. It helps me emotionally connect to the melody, but it also informs the way that I interpret it. 

I listen to a lot of vinyl, so it’s like only a 22 minute a side commitment. Find time to put some music on and not while you’re on the treadmill or doing your email. Who knows how many people out there actually do that. But, without being fat-headed, I’d say that the people that do take the time to listen to this thing through, I think there’s a reward. We’re in the era of LPs coming back. When you make shorter albums, people are maybe a little more likely to actually dip into the whole thing. This record’s about 50 minutes. The one I did with Enrico Rava [The Song Is You] was 43 minutes. I think we’re in the era of not overdoing it. Less is more. 

Is that better for you as an artist?

It is. I’m going to record a trio album for ECM next month. If it’s only a 45-minute album, that’s only going to be 6 or 7 pieces because there probably will be a bass solo or two and something for the drums to play. I’ve got probably a good 1500 vinyls and some of them I’ve had since childhood. It’s still the best delivery system for music sound wise. As I learned to play jazz, self-taught in Cincinnati, Ohio, in the early 70s, I would have one side of one LP on the turntable for days. I just keep listening to those four or five tracks over and over again and get to know them deeply. We’re in an age where everything is the algorithm says if you like that, listen to this. Everybody’s twitchy with their fingers. I think it’s great that LPs are coming back. To me, they never left.

I have noticed in the past couple of years, listening to artists like Gerald Clayton or Joel Ross or the half of Sullivan Fortner‘s Slow Game that you produced, artists in the jazz world are expressing themselves in a more quiet manner than they used to. Do you think there’s something going on in our world that’s inspiring it?

It’s a great question for which I don’t have an answer. There are incredible 40-and-under musicians or 30-and-under musicians. You mentioned players like Gerald Clayton or Sullivan – state of the art younger jazz pianists, in my estimation. Great instrumentalists and very deep in their way of playing the language and with their own perspectives. I have my ear to the ground. Certainly living in New York, I go out and hear people. I’ve taught a lot of these great younger pianists over the years. I always learn a lot from the way that they speak the language, which is different. I came to New York in 1977. The job description for being a working jazz pianist was you had to know tunes. You had to be able to swing. You had to be able to accompany. If you sight read, that was a bonus. But that was it. Now all the young musicians are expected to be composers and manage their internet empires and social media presences and produce their own albums.

Some of the people that you’re mentioning who are more mature, who are able to hold more stillness and withhold all the stuff that they could play, these are the more artistic ones, in my opinion. But for every one of those, there’s six more I could think of where it’s a lot of stuff that’s kind of forgettable. Nothing sticks. So stickiness in performance – improvisation, composition, is a quality that I value. It doesn’t have to be Andrew Lloyd Webber to be sticky, you know?

Sullivan Fortner told me that you were “an extremely nice man and that you’re not an easy person to please.” How easy or how challenging is it for you to please yourself, either when you’re composing or playing? 

I can be a little tough on myself. I’m at that point in my career where I’ve done so many projects, to find something new, that’s where I am now. I don’t need to make another record just to make another record. I want to make something that represents growth. Something different.

I teach this all the time. Don’t obsess about what you’re not playing or what you wish you could play, or what you played yesterday that you can’t play today. Every time. Blank slate. If you make a mistake, use it. You already played it. There’s no point in tensing up about it. With Sullivan, when I’m dealing with somebody with a talent level like that, people don’t need to pay me to say, oh, you sound great. We were working together at the highest possible standard. It’s a pleasure and a gift to teach such talented individuals. I’m just really glad that people are really coming along to how great he is – finally.

You had him record just single takes of each song and I know you did far more songs that were released. How often do you rely on single takes for your own recordings?

On Silent, Listening I recorded the Russ Freeman tune The Wind. It’s the longest track on the album – seven minutes. The melody repeats twice. I just played the melody at the end. Both times I played a wrong note in the melody. Both repeats I played the wrong note. Same mistake, same place. The Fred of 20 years ago would never put that out. Like, people think I don’t know the melody. I’m always bugging people you don’t really know the melody. I made the same mistake twice. But there was magic in the take. Especially with things like ballads, you have to go with the feeling. To me, if I get a take and I’m really in the flow in it the whole way through, no lapses of concentration, it unfolds naturally, I won’t do another one because I might get, quote better. But then it’s going to be confusing later on between the take that has the vibe and the take that’s more perfect. I think I’ve learned to just leave things alone. 

The best way to make an album for jazz like I do or Sullivan does is you prepare everything or you have an idea, but you leave it open for the magic to happen when the tape is rolling. If you figure it out and then execute it, to me that’s anti jazz. I don’t want to hear people regurgitate what they know. That’s not interesting to me. I want to hear people play what they don’t know. That’s when it gets good. Sullivan could just react and reaction is a huge part of being a jazz musician.

It’s everything, isn’t it? Listening and reacting.

Right! I got into jazz to play music with people and in front of people. Starting as a 5 or 6-year old, I liked to improvise and then discovered jazz. It was a great language for improvisation. Hanging out with all the people in the clubs was fun. It didn’t matter what your age was or your race was or where you came from. Everybody had this shared love of this music. Nobody’s making any money. It was kind of romantic in a way.

Reacting is when I’m playing trio. Yeah, I’m nominally the leader, but I’m really one third of what’s happening. So I have to allow the musicians to add what they do and allow myself to be inspired by them. In a duo, it’s even more intense because it’s just this intimate conversation. Solo, I am reacting to the feel of the piano under my hands, the touch and the actual sound in the room. And then the emotion of whatever piece I’m playing is a large part of it, too. I have to play the right piece at the right time in terms of the emotional connection that I could get.

To watch the full interview with Fred Hersch, please go here.

Main Photo: Fred Hersch (Photo by Roberto Cifarelli/Courtesy Fred Hersch)

The post Fred Hersch: The Power of Being Silent and Listening appeared first on Cultural Attaché.

Matt Johnson & The New Jet Set will perform their jazz versions of many classic Disney songs at the Sierra Madre Playhouse beginning Friday, March 22nd and continuing through Sunday, March 24th. Johnson has created a multi-media show that includes stories, anecdotes from his many years as being a Cast Member at Disneyland and many of the classic songs we all know and love.

Last week I spoke with Johnson (who drums for multiple artists including Jane Lynch) about his lengthy relationship with all things Disney and the songwriters and songs that make us all light up when we hear them. What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity. To see the full interview with Johnson, please go to our YouTube channel (where you can also see an interview with Alan Menken).

Q: Duke Ellington famously sings in one of his compositions, “It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.” What does the Disney songbook mean with and without swing? [The lyrics were by Irving Mills]

Listen, the Disney songbook doesn’t need my interpretation to stand alone in the annals of memorable music. We just happen to interpret it in our chosen vehicle. We take those memorable melodies and just put them in the jazz machine and crank them up and what comes out is usually very swinging. A lot of the music lends itself to swing. There’s lots of lullabies and happy children’s songs and some marches and some of them naturally lend themselves to swing. Then others we choose to have a little more fun with them. In one instance the beautiful ballad A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes from Cinderella. We’ll do it as a samba and play almost a double time rhythm underneath it. So sometimes the swing just happens. And other times we consciously choose to put it in a style that makes us even more happy.

Some of those films had great opportunities for swing. They did have Louis Prima as a voice in The Jungle Book, and they had Peggy Lee write songs and perform them for Lady and the Tramp. But those were exceptions. Do you think that there was a conscious decision in the history of Disney songs not to go into a swing mode? Or do you think that the films didn’t necessarily lend themselves to that style?

I know from being a long time Disney cast member that story is the most important thing. So whoever was in charge whenever a production was in the making, they thought about what would be the best way to convey the story. So conscious decision – definitely. But just crowbar in swing music? No.

By the time you get to Toy Story with someone like Randy Newman, you have a composer who has jazz in his bloodstream.

He does. You’ve Got a Friend in Me has very much a swingy bounce to it. I think it’s definitely a conscious decision to play jazz and or any other style. I’m thinking now Ratatouille – all Parisian. Michael Giacchino’s orchestration with lots of accordion and clarinet. Very Parisian, almost a gypsy jazz appropriate for the setting in the story it tells.

How do you see the Disney songbook having evolved over the years? What do you like most about the way it was, and what do you like most about the way it is today? 

I have had the wonderful experience of seeing it in the audience’s faces as we’ve performed the show a few times now. You can’t separate the music from the time when you experienced it in the movie theater. For those of us of a certain age, that means a really grand occasion. Back before you could stream a movie on your watch, it was a really big deal to go to a theater. We always looked forward to the Disney movies. Growing up in Southern California we had the opportunity to go to Disneyland. So we saw all the the tie-ins with the attractions and all the visuals. And, of course, we saw the characters. We also had the Wonderful World of Color and the Wonderful World of Disney. The music is just one of many, many emotional touchstones that are layered in us.

If there was any one team of composers or songwriters for whom the Disney catalog is best represented, it’s going to be the Sherman Brothers: Richard and Robert Sherman. What do you think makes their songs more beloved, or given them the ability to stand the test of time above perhaps any other songwriter’s songs who have appeared in Disney movies? 

First of all, we have to agree to the premise of your question are they, in fact, the greatest? And I think the reason both of us initially say yes, without a doubt, is because of the volume of work that they did when the studio was young or in their heyday. There was a period of time when Disney wasn’t making great movies, but everything before 1975 rocked. Maybe even earlier than that. Aristocats came out in 1970 and certainly everything that preceded it was just fantastic.

Walt referred to them as the boys. He’d storyboard with some of his artists and he said, let me get the boys in here, and then we’ll figure out where we’re going from here. The stories that I know, and even the documentary footage that I’ve seen, there was such a collaboration [with] the brothers. To see one at the piano and the other one scratching down something and changing and getting stuck on a word and seeing that collaboration was personally very inspiring. 

Doesn’t it feel like Alan Menken is the heir to what the Sherman Brothers were able to accomplish?

In and through the collaboration with his lyricists…Yes. All of those contemporary things from Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid. I’m no different than most. I’m really affected emotionally performing this music and having the responsibility of giving a little insight through my narration. Instead of saying, “Now we’re going to play I Just Can’t Wait to Be King,” I give a little background on the music and the production or something that I’ve read that’s interesting that maybe we don’t know. I have to be careful that I don’t trigger an emotional little thing in me that becomes distracting or, even worse, makes me emotional. 

Don’t you feel like this music allows us to revisit our childhood in some way, shape or form?

Every single time. My friend Charles Phoenix put it so perfectly, “Every time I go there, I feel all the ages I’ve ever been.” Because he remembers encountering the Disney magic at all these different points in his life. And also remembering the people in your life that are no longer with us. When you think about going there with your grandparents, I mean, that’s a powerful memory, you know? It’s just part of who I am. 

You can’t walk through the park without hearing music everywhere. A lot of it’s piped in now, but walk Main Street. You know better than anyone, that’s where you often hear live music.

Right. Straw Hatters are still out there. From season to season, sometimes they bring back a couple of what we call the break down groups: The Firehouse Hook and Ladder Gang. It’s been a while. The sax quintet who dressed in that Keystone Cops? We say Keystone Cops, but, the police uniforms from the previous century. The pre-recorded music there is all early, sort of parlor music. It’s not exactly ragtime yet. It predates ragtime. It’s happy family music from the turn of the century.

A lot of the music that that you and I know and that people probably have at least half a generation below us embrace as well, is stuff that kids today don’t necessarily have any relationship to unless their parents held on to old DVDs or they would catch the films on Disney Plus. What do you see in in terms of young people who come to these concerts and their response to these songs that they didn’t grow up with the same way you and I did?

There’s one thing that happens in general. I’m reminded of my friend Tony Guerrero, who says, “Even if you don’t think you’re familiar with jazz, if you witness a live performance, you can’t help but like it.” There’s just something about live musical performance that’s very powerful. Something you and I would take for granted because we sat through innumerable concerts, but young people wouldn’t necessarily. We try to have a couple of the contemporary Disney songs in there.

My indoctrination into the world of Disney took place when my aunt took me at three years old to go see Mary Poppins. That was the first time I became aware of movies. It was the first time I became aware of musicals in any way, shape or form. Obviously, the first time that I became aware of Disney in any in any measurable way. It is my understanding that you have worked with Dame Julie Andrews.

I was performing with a group called the Palm Springs Yacht Club in the early 90s. It was a musical comedy group, but we worked for maybe 3 or 4 years as a warm-up act for a handful of touring celebrities at the time, including Julie Andrews, but also the Smothers Brothers and comedian Rich Little.

We traveled one whole summer with Julie Andrews. It was my personal experience that she was wonderful and had a wonderful sense of humor. She was appreciative of the small supporting role that we played in her show. She traveled with an ensemble as well. We were traveling separately. Her band was on a standard tour bus at the time. She drove in a limousine and had a driver. This was the caravan. It wasn’t uncommon that the band, while on the road, their wives would come out sometimes and join the tour for the weekend and fly home. I overheard a conversation where she offered one of the guys the limo so he and his wife could travel from one venue to the next together to have some time together. She road on the bus. That said a lot about who she was. She was always very, very good humored and always made us feel as though our role was valued.

In Richard Sherman’s book, Pursuing Happiness, he tells a story about giving a lecture at USC. As he described it, some smartalec shouted out, “How much money did you make from Winnie the Pooh?” He goes on to tell this story about a girl in Texas who had fallen down a well. As they were trying to rescue her the girl apparently told her mother that she wanted her to sing Winnie the Pooh, because “Winnie the Pooh was in great tightness and he got out and I’m going to get out.” Richard Sherman said, “That moment made me the richest man in the world.” How does music in general, and these Disney songs in particular, make you the richest man in the world?

We just performed our show a couple nights ago. After the show a gentleman came up to me and said, “My dad has Alzheimer’s.” Out of the blue. I never met this guy before. I said I’m very sorry, not knowing where he was going with this. And he said, “He’s been living with us. When I was leaving the house, I said, I’m going to see a Disney show tonight. They’re playing Disney music.” His father, with Alzheimer’s, brightened up and said, “Do you remember when we took you to see The Aristocats?” Now, The Aristocats is not one of the most memorable movies, but it’s a fabulous movie released in 1970, and it happened to be the very last animated feature that Walt Disney would be able to approve for production in 1965. 

He went on to say that his little brother was born and stayed in the ICU for six weeks. [He continued] “When my little brother was able to finally come home my dad took my sister and I out to see The Aristocats.” This person who was suffering from Alzheimer’s was able to tap into that because of his connection to the Disney music. You can’t put a price on that; that I was part of a performance that reminded both those individuals of that story and that he chose to relate it to me.

Knowing how it affects people, how deeply connected people are to this music, it’s a great responsibility. Whether I’m playing at the park or whether I’m playing on the outside with my own band and present this music at the highest level, because I know how people relate to it. It is a gift that I cherish and I don’t take it for granted.

To watch the full interview with Matt Johnson, please go here.

Main Photo: Matt Johnson (Courtesy Matt Johnson)

The post Matt Johnson Swings Disney with The New Jet Set appeared first on Cultural Attaché.

Call it good timing or a lucky alignment of circumstances. But given that very little is just pure luck anymore, I’ll suggest that composer/pianist Timo Andres and his team knew exactly what they were doing when they lined up the release of a new album on Nonesuch Records, the world premiere of his fifth piano concerto, Made of Tunes, with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and his perform with five other pianists at Walt Disney Concert Hall of the 20 etudes by Philip Glass. All in one week.

On March 19th, Andres joins fellow pianists Anton Batagov, Lara Downes, Jenny Lin and Maki Namekawa to perform Glass’ Etudes 1-20. On March 22nd, Nonesuch Records releases The Blind Banister. That’s Andres’ recording of his third piano concerto. it also includes his Colorful History and Upstate Obscura. That same day the Los Angeles Philharmonic will give the world premiere of Made of Tunes which Andres composed for pianist Aaron Diehl. John Adams conducts all three performances at Walt Disney Concert Hall.

That gave me plenty to discuss with Andres when we spoke last week. What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity. To watch the full interview with Timo Andres, please go to our YouTube channel.

Q: Made of Tunes was commissioned by the Los Angeles Philharmonic and you composed it with Aaron Diehl in mind as the soloist. What are the qualities that Aaron Diehl possesses as a pianist that most influenced how and what you composed for him? 

That’s a great question. Whenever I write a piece for anyone, I’m trying to think of their specific qualities as a performer and how I can sort of highlight those and work with those and bring them out. In the case of Aaron, I’ve known him about a decade now. I’ve heard him play many, many times. His sound and his style was very much in my ear. And also his repertoire, because I think the music that he chooses to play and that he engages with has been as much a part of his voice as anything.

That really is kind of a broad history of American piano music going back to the earliest ragtime and the stuff that we would pinpoint as saying, this music sounds American for the first time as opposed to European. That whole tradition is very inspiring to me as well. I’ve always felt myself to be specifically an American composer.

On your website, you wrote that “Aaron’s part includes opportunities for improvisation, sections in which I pass him a tune or rhythm or harmony, and he responds with something I wouldn’t have thought of.” How much freedom does he have to improvise? Which I guess is in the tradition of cadenzas going back to Beethoven’s day.

What I’ve tried to do is a little bit trickier and a little bit, certainly rarer, in that I don’t actually have an improvised cadenza. The section that you would maybe call a cadenza is completely written out. And the improvised sections are actually playing with the orchestra. That, to me, was more interesting in a way, because it’s very much what one hears Aaron do when he’s playing with a singer or a trio or in an ensemble. It’s that responding to the other people. Not just responding to the musical cues, but responding to what else is going on in the room.

The orchestra part is totally written out. I had an idea that I would maybe be able to incorporate some improvised or aleatoric bits in the orchestra part, but it’s really just too risky in terms of portability.

The orchestra is remaining on course with the notated music. Then Aaron, I always pass him something, whether that’s a chord or a series of chords or a melodic motif or literally just verbal instructions. I’m always giving him something to go on and that is very much how improvisation typically works. It’s not this idea of total freedom. You’re using certain frameworks and then replacing the things on top of those frameworks with your own ideas. That’s the skill of a great jazz improviser and that’s what I wanted to give Aaron the opportunity to do. 

As you were composing the piece, were you allowing yourself to play with some improvisations you might come up with if you were the soloist? 

I’m not an improviser. I do improvise as part of my compositional process sometimes, but it’s not a huge part of it. I think that’s one of the things that fascinates me and that I’m slightly in awe of with Aaron and people who can who can really do that on such a high level.

Maybe one day down the road I will end up performing this piece myself. In that case, I’m not quite sure what I’ll do in those sections. I may give myself a little bit more of a written framework; leaving some flexibility for what may happen in performance. But I don’t have that kind of confidence to give myself that total freedom in front of other people.

Do you have the confidence to add sociopolitical statements in your work? The reason I ask is in the description of Made of Tunes on your website you talk about the second movement, American Nocturnal, having six variations of original theme. That was all taken from a mishmash of the notes used in “the hokey patriotic song America the Beautiful.” Is that something that allows you to hold a mirror up to who we are as a country, by taking those notes so closely associated with how we present ourselves patriotically?

It’s not something that I want to make explicit. I would say that the whole piece sounds very American to me. I think the way that the piece ends, perhaps, says more than I want to say in words about that. When you hear what happens in the end, you can draw your own conclusions. I think the final orchestral gesture basically feels apocalyptic.

I read an article an interview that you gave the L.A. Times in 2009 when the L.A. Philharmonic was giving the premiere of Nightjar. You mentioned that you were obsessed with John Adams. The title for Made of Tunes is derived from a lyric in a Charles Ives song (The Things Our Fathers Loved). Adams, who is conducting the premiere, wrote a piano concerto called Must the Devil Have All the Good Tunes? Is there a wink and a nod to John Adams built into the title? 

Absolutely. Of course, John has a piece called My Father Knew Charles Ives and I know [him] as an admirer of Ives’ songs. John’s music was, and is, a huge influence on me. We’ve both developed and changed so much as composers even over the past 15 years. I think there is an aspect that we share in this sense of Americanness and this sense of a fluidity between all of these different kinds of music that make up the American identity. I think maintaining that fluidity is very important to both of us. I think you’ll hear a kind of rhythmic drive, especially in the first movement, that I very much think of as being something I learned from John’s music.

As we’ve been working on the piece together he actually told me yesterday that there’s something in it that reminded him of a song of his called I Was Looking at the Ceiling and Then I Saw the Sky. Which is a little bit of what you might call a cult classic among John’s works. 

I that same story in the LA Times you said about the LA Phil’s commission of Nightjar, “If you would ask me what my absolute dream commission would be, I probably would have said something along those lines. I mean, it’s Los Angeles. They’re pretty much where it’s at in terms of good music.” How has your perspective evolved since that time and where you are today with this new commission from the LA Phil?

It really feels like part of the same journey in a way. That Green Umbrella commission was one of my first commissions period – from anyone. It happened when I was still in grad school which was a vote of confidence in a way.

With everything that’s happened in the past few years, it seems like orchestras might be having a little bit of a tougher time. In general I see a kind of retrenchment into a kind of artistic conservatism.

For someone like me who’s a composer and an enthusiast of anything that’s new, that can be a little bit discouraging. But I do see the commission of this new concerto as kind of bucking that trend.

It’s actually my first subscription series appearance with the Phil. And my first piece that I’ve written for the full orchestra. It’s still a dream ensemble. They’re the the most new music friendly of the major American orchestras by far, and I think the most comfortable with a lot of the more demanding things that new music in general, and my piece particularly, asks of them.

Nonesuch Records is releasing your new album, The Blind Bannister on the same day that this concerto is having its world premiere. That’s a concerto that had its world premiere in 2016. How has your relationship with that piece evolved? How did that influence how you chose to perform it?

The Blind Banister is my third piano concerto and Made of Tunes is my fifth. So it’s kind of a week of piano concertos here. The Blind Banister was also a piece that was written specifically for Jonathan Bis. I think that piece has much more to do with a kind of classical romantic lineage and how I place myself in that as a 21st century American. I just performed the piece last month; four times in Oregon.

It’s still, I think, a piece where I figured out certain things compositionally that I can mark as a tent pole in my catalog in a way. I think formally I tried some things in that piece that I had never tried before. It’s this continuous 20 minute stretch of music, which I think at the time was the longest continuous stretch of music that I had attempted to write. I think, in general, it succeeds at articulating that amount of time in a way that’s compelling and that leads the listener through a kind of journey. It has its particular demands and difficulties and sections that are tricky to put together and balance. But the rhetoric of the piece and the formal journey of it kind of explain themselves.

During your recent NPR Tiny Desk concert of Philip Glass’ Etudes you performed etudes six and five in that order. On March 19th you’re going to be performing at Walt Disney Concert Hall as one of five pianists doing Philip Glass’ Complete Etudes 1 – 20. You edited the published edition that recently came out. When you’re working on something from an editorial perspective are there new discoveries that you were able to make, new understandings, that are separate from what you understand as you’re playing a piece of music?

I’m someone who’s very grounded in notation. I think already that puts me in the minority of musicians in the world. Most music is not made via notation. Notation is not only how I deal with music most of the time, but it’s inescapably how I think about it. Like when I hear music, I’d see notation and vice versa. All the music that I interface with I understand something more of it by seeing the notation. Very often, especially when I’m playing new work, I will actually go and re-notate certain things. Not because it’s notated wrong. It’s just there’s certain opinions that I hold, esthetically or taste wise, or just from a practicality standpoint that are sort of the differential between how a composer might think of a piece, might conceive music and then the ways that a pianist might approach that music. 

With Philip, I think his notation always has a wonderful kind of clarity to it. So it wasn’t so much about clarifying anything in particular. You can read these pieces off his hand-notated manuscripts, pretty much with no problem. This was more about meeting somewhere in the middle between a totally liberalized, typesetting of those manuscripts and then reading from the manuscripts. I think there are aspects of both documents that are useful.

You posted on your website on January 4th of 2023, “Thanks to all the artists and record labels who asked me to write about their recordings. Doing so always teaches me new ways to listen and think about music.” If we fast forward 30 or 40 years and somebody is editing your work or asking to comment on them, what would you like them most to know about who you were at this particular time in your life as a person, a composer and an artist?

I’m not really someone who likes to self-mythologize. I don’t think autobiographically. It’s not really a question I’m prepared to answer. And I don’t think it’s my job to answer it. I think of myself as someone who works very hard. My life is really about all the different aspects of the work that I do. Whether it’s writing a piano concerto or playing the work of another composer, or writing about the work of other musicians, arranging the work of other musicians. All of these different ways that I can get my hands dirty with music, so to speak. I’m up for it and I don’t stop to really interrogate what my project is in a sense for or even who I am. Do any of us really know who we are?

I think when you start to think about that, you’re becoming your own publicist. In a way you’re marketing yourself. Which is a necessity in the modern world of constant pressure to be sharing content and sharing yourself online and simultaneously the complete destruction of any kind of critical apparatus in the mainstream press or any real critical discourse that goes on in the mainstream. In the field that I work in it’s tempting to try to pick up the pieces and try to do it yourself. I have a website. I have Instagram. I have Twitter. I do all these things. But I also don’t know if they truly say anything about who I am as an artist. I think I would rather leave it to the professionals to come to their own conclusions. 

Or let the music speak for itself.

It’s a little bit cliche to say, I guess, but yeah, listen to the music. If you’re curious, it’s all in there. I don’t think it says particularly anything autobiographical. I’m not that kind of composer. But, I think you can connect the dots if you really listen.

To watch the full interview with Timo Andres, please go here.

Main Photo: Composer/Pianist Timo Andres (Courtesy Colbert Artists Management)

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She was the producer/director and co-showrunner of One Day at a Time that starred Justina Machado and Rita Moreno. She’s also the woman behind the Amazon series With Love. But what many people don’t know about Calderón Kellett is that she is also a playwright. Her plays include Plane Strangers, In Her Shoes and Baggage and now One of the Good Ones.

One of the Good Ones is having its world premiere at the Pasadena Playhouse where it will play through April 7th. Calderón Kellett takes the classic idea of the daughter bringing home a man and her parents don’t know what to think of him. Yoli (Isabella Gomez – also from One Day at a Time) is the perfect Latina daughter. But is Marcos (Nico Greetham) good enough for her or her parents (Ilana and Enrique played by Lana Parrilla and Carlos Gomez)? Can anyone be good enough for her? The issue here, told as only Calderón Kellet can, is not about his ethnicity. It is about how each of the five characters in the play define themselves and what it means for each of them to be an American. It’s not always the same thing. Or is it?

There are multiple surprises that await theatergoers. But Calderón Kellett says one of them is the very setting of her play.

“Part of this play was also intentionally set in Pasadena with a wealthy family because we never get that,” she revealed. “That certainly exists all over the city. There’s a lot of Latinos that have money, that have generational wealth. What does that look like? Those stories deserve to be told as well. So it was all very intentional. There will be people in the audience that do not know that Pasadena was Mexico.”

That’s just one example of the fascinating conversation I had with Calderón Kellett as One of the Good Ones was in the final weeks of rehearsals. What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity.

Q: In a 2021 interview that you gave to latina.com you said, “I feel really fortunate that my brain defaults to comedy in dark moments.” What was your initial inspiration for One of the Good Ones? Did it come out of a dark moment and when did you start writing it? 

It did come out of a dark moment. A dark and a light moment. When I did One Day at a Time, which was more based on my life and experience, people suddenly really wanted to talk to me about being Latina – which I’m happy to talk about. I love being Latina, but it was very interesting that the panels and the discussions would be either about being female or about being Latina, and very little about being a writer or a showrunner. I was happy to take that. To sort of take that bullet initially because it felt like we’re in a time where that’s still so rare that I’m going to talk about it. But also, how weird that it’s so rare that we have to talk about it. 

I had to talk about Latinidad so much. Trying to make people understand we are 19 plus countries under this umbrella of Latin. That in the United States Latino, as a term, is supposed to encompass all of us. It can’t possibly, because we all come from different backgrounds and different places. So it felt like it would be interesting to talk about identity in a comedic manner, and how could I do that? I love the challenge. I love writing myself into corners. I love the challenge of 90 minutes, no intermission.

In that same interview you talk about having three generations when you grew up and you were the kid for so long. Then you’d transitioned into your parents and were in the middle. “It’s a sandwich and I’m the meat in between my children and my parents and I’m trying to navigate that.” How much is One of the Good Ones your response to that place you find yourself today?

Absolutely. I see myself always in the female characters in such a strong way. And then the male characters really reflect so many of the males [in my life]. Enrique’s very my father. My husband has said, I like when your dad’s here because a man’s in the room. That’s the kind of man my dad is. He’s like an old school man. There are things about that that are so comforting. And my mom is sort of this old school mom. She’s always beautiful: always a heel, always a lip. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen my mom without that lipstick.

I also feel a lot of the Yoli of it. I was the first one to go to college. When I came back I was wanting to have these conversations. They were both so excited to have me go off to college and be the first to go to college, and then somewhat threatened by these new conversations and thoughts that I was bringing in the house. I really want to poke the bear and talk about the things. We see obviously the guest who’s coming to dinner. We’re all familiar with a Black man coming into this home and the conversations that arise [Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?]. When I brought my husband home, who’s a lovely white guy, my family was very warm, but I do feel like they were disappointed I didn’t bring a Cuban guy home.

Yoli says early in the play, “We can’t put off conversations because they might be unpleasant.” What are you hoping the conversations will be, pleasant or unpleasant, after people get a chance to see your play? 

I hope they’ll first say, that was so fun and funny. Then it’ll be like, wow, there’s a lot there I hadn’t thought about. Some of my favorite thoughts of the play are surrounding the melting pot idea. I’ve really, I think, benefited from walking so deeply in the history of my ancestors. It gives me such purpose. I think that so often people think America is cool, but it has no culture because it melts away. So these are the conversations I want people to have. If people are able to walk away talking about their own identity as well as understanding a little portion of this Latino family’s journey, I think that would be really cool.

At another point Yoli responds to something said to her by saying it is filled with the kind of dialog that sort of smacks of everybody respecting every possible thing, which, of course, the characters can’t sustain through the entire play. What is your personal view of how far one should go in order to be respectful of every aspect of one’s identity?

I think more than being PC, I think we need to be kind. If somebody is trying we give them the grace of knowing that they’re trying. They might not be perfect, but perfect is the enemy of good. If we’re trying to be kind and if we have genuine questions…I was in a room during One Day at a Time where half the room was queer. I am a straight lady. Before everything I’d be like, I’m so sorry. I’m probably going to say this wrong, but I have a question and I’d say the question. And they were like, no, it’s okay. That’s great that you ask that. Let’s get into it, because they know that I’m trying. We need to try.

I love the fact that Marco’s parents are named Marty and Elayne. As somebody who lived in LA my whole life, is that a nod to the entertainers that once frequented the Dresden Room?

It is. I’m so glad you caught that. 

The lack of Latino Hispanic representation is only getting tougher right now, not easier, because all we’re seeing about people from Mexico, Central America and South America is the immigrant crisis on the border. Has that crisis created a reluctance in the entertainment industry, from your point of view, to support stories about people who come from these places?

100%. We have been seeing that for a long time. That’s my work. I talk about the immigrant experience, but you would be shocked by the amount of drug narratives, border-crossing narratives, cartel narratives that I turn down every single year. It always hurts my heart because once you point that out to people, their brains kind of explode. What stories of ours do they give the most money to? Griselda! I don’t think that they have the wherewithal to know how damaging it is for us. But man, I would have killed for part of Griselda‘s marketing budget for my little show about a family that loves their queer son when he’s getting married. It makes me so sad to know that Narcos narratives are the ones that still get the most money and the most marketing.

They are resistant to buy just a normal American family living their life. I was so fortunate that we got to make four seasons of One Day at a Time. I’m so grateful because, true to Norman’s [Lear] incredible work, that ended up being a time capsule of what it was like to live as a Latino in America during the Trump administration. I think a lot about the damaging narratives that we’ve seen. I also worry that that’s the only way they see us.

Yoli says in the play, “Mexicans come in all colors.” Apropos of our conversation about the industry, is there this belief that Mexicans are all one thing?

Yes. I think that people think that Mexicans are just what they see on these border crossing stories. I mean, Mexico City is very white. There’s also a ton of Afro-Latinos. Afro-Latinos are an enormous part of this American population and they get lumped in with Black most of the time because they’re not allowed to be the totality of their ancestry. That was an important thing that I did on With Love. I purposefully cast an Afro-Latino family and that was the first time either of those actors had played the totality of being Cuban and being Black. We’re Black. We’re white. We’re indigenous. We look like all of these things because of colonization and what that colonization brought. It’s important to let people know that there are blond Mexicans, there are Black Mexicans and everything in between. 

So many people know you from television, but don’t know your other plays. What can people learn about who you are as an artist and who you are as a person, not just from One of the Good Ones, but from Plane Strangers, In Her Shoes or Baggage?

They’re all explorations of humans. I think what you can learn about me is that I’m a person that is also trying to figure it out. I am the proud daughter of immigrants. It’s always the first thing I say because I think it largely defines who I am and what my purpose is, which is to understand people who were in an oppressive regime and what they would do. My grandmother was my age and my daughter was the age of my mother when she sent her to the US in the hopes that people on the other side of the water would be kind. And they were. The promise of this country is that here you can be free to say what you want. So the sacrifice of my grandparents, to get my parents here so that I could speak freely. To try to hold up a mirror to society, with humor, heart and good intention, and lead conversations that can be healing and that can make the world a little bit brighter and kinder. That is my goal as an artist. I really try to do that with great intention when I’m making anything that I do, whether it’s a sitcom or a play.

Rita Moreno, one of the stars of One Day a Time, is quoted as having said, “I really started to understand that everyone has a responsibility to others and to a community, that you were not the only person in the world you simply represent, whether you like it or not.” I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you agree with her. But what is the responsibility you feel, and what would you like to do most with that responsibility moving forward? 

I think the responsibility for me is to try to send the elevator back down. To hopefully blaze this trail so that it is open for others to come through it. I think that storytelling has become a little stale. I mean, the city is on fire right now. Not in a good way because of the need for commerce versus storytelling like authentic storytelling we’re chasing. I think that the people in power are chasing the high of money versus the impact that stories can actually have on community.

The divide of the country can directly be lined up to how we are not watching the same things anymore. There used to be shows that all of us would watch. There would be a commonality in a conversation that we could have with people of different economic, socio-economic backgrounds and ethnicities because all of us were watching Friends or something that brought us all together. Those days are gone. It has replaced it with echo chambers where people are just yelling to each other. I don’t know that that’s moving us in the right direction. So using entertainment, as a mirror to society, as a way to bridge, to foster conversation, is something I do feel very morally and ethically responsible in trying to provide. That’s what I’m going to keep on doing while I’ve got breath in this body.

Main Photo: Gloria Calderón Kellett (Photo by Abby Guerra/Courtesy Pasadena Playhouse)

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It’s a busy time for composer/pianist Marc-André Hamelin. On February 2nd his album New Piano Works was released. It was Hamelin’s first recording of his own compositions since 2010’s Études. Hyperion Records, his label, was acquired and the floodgates of his dozens of releases on Hyperion were suddenly available for streaming. It is, as Hamelin says, a veritable “treasure trove of recordings.”

This weekend he joins the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra for performances on March 2nd at The Wallis in Beverly Hills and a March 3rd performance at Zipper Hall at the Colburn School in downtown Los Angeles. Hamelin will be performing Nadia Boulanger’s Three Pieces for Cello and Piano and César Franck’s Piano Quintet in F Minor.

I last spoke with Hamelin in 2019. His new album (one of my selections for New In Music This Week: February 2nd) was part of our conversation as were his concerts. It also served as an opportunity to see how his point-of-view may, or may not, have changed in that time.

What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity. To watch the full interview, please go to our YouTube channel.

Q: You’re going to be playing two pieces in these concerts with the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra. One of them is Franck’s Piano Quintet in F minor. That’s a work you recorded in 2016. How much does the personality and the musicianship of any given other four musicians make a difference in the end result of this, or any other piece of music that you’re performing? 

It does. But the fun, I think, of getting with a new group that you haven’t played with before, is to just to discover each other’s musicianship and finding common ground. Also, suggesting differences and new ways of doing things that they might not have thought of. It’s an area that’s very, very rich in surprises and possibilities. That goes for any piece in the repertoire, really.

With all five musicians in a quintet, or four in a quartet, is there any place to hide? 

Maybe small ones. But especially with a work that’s so well known as the Franck Quintet. It’s really one of the big five along with the Brahms, Schumann, Dvorak and Shostakovich. We hear it so often that people know how it goes, or at least most of them do. So, in that sense, there is little room to hide and for mistakes. In a lesser known work, belonging to the byways of the repertoire, then maybe, since the piece is not heard very often, perhaps it’s more acceptable to be faulty. It will matter a lot less, I guess. Of course, we always strive for as much perfection as possible. Or at least, fidelity to the composer’s thought.

Apropos of that statement, do you feel like works are museum pieces and should be slave to what the composer’s thoughts were? Or is there room for this music to live and breathe and have its own life in 2024 versus the life it had when it was composed?

There’s several ways of thinking about this. On one hand, being a composer myself, I don’t pretend to have all the answers. Nobody does. But being a composer allows you to feel a little closer to the works you perform and especially how they were created. Sometimes you can see the process. I have a pretty good idea of how I want my pieces to go, but there is so much you can do in the way of notation to convey that. You have to leave something to the performer’s individual views or ways of understanding musical notation.

On the other hand, there are several different types of composers. There are composers who will allow great variations of interpretation. For example, I can think of Grieg, who once said to someone this is not really the way I saw it, but don’t change anything, I love individuality. There are other composers who are thankful for any performance, even though it may fall short of their expectations. There’s lots of nuances within the individual composer’s appreciations and that’s what makes the whole world richer.

When we spoke five years ago, you mentioned that you, “Have the luxury, at this point in my career, to be playing, without exception, pieces that I really love.” How do you think your perspective on what those pieces are has shifted since then?

It’s pretty much the same, actually. I keep introducing favorites. Sometimes I come back to old ones because it’s always very healthy and also very fascinating to revisit things that you haven’t played for quite a few years. It’s always really startling. I see sometimes how much they have changed without you doing a single thing. In the meantime, you have changed yourself. Therefore, your approach has changed. When I play these pieces for myself, after not having played them for many, many years, they will be completely different. That’s only because of my personal evolution and, hopefully, my increased understanding of what the composer wants.

Do you find that there are pieces that intimidate you? 

I’m a little less inclined – quite a bit less inclined – these days to play the big virtuosic things. I’m much more interested in meaningful communication at this point rather than showing myself off on stage. That, to me, is really not very satisfying. A recital is really a one-to-one act of communication. An offering, an act of sharing with the audience. I’m always thinking every single second of the audience, rather than myself. Because what else am I doing this for? I just really adore sharing discoveries and perhaps new ways of doing things that people already don’t. 

Is there something that you think is pivotal to communicate to an audience now that perhaps reflects either who you are as a person right now or the times that we’re living in?

I really concentrate on the music. Generally a concert really should be, in the best of times, abstracted from whatever else is happening in the world. However, I will say this though. Maybe two or three days after the 2016 election I was giving an all-Mozart concert at the 92nd Street Y in New York. So many people at the end told me, thank you. We needed that. And I won’t say any more.

New Piano Works is your first album of material you’ve composed to be released since Études in 2010. Why this work and why now?

It’s really more for practical reasons than anything. I’ve been very fortunate in having been published by Edition Peters who are one of the major publishers. They originally solicited me, and the first thing they published with it was this volume of 12 études which I recorded along the same time. Since then I published a number of piano pieces which hadn’t been recorded. So it’s basically a collection of almost everything that I’ve written for piano since then.

It’s sort of a dull reason, but, I’ve really come to realize very quickly that even if you publish a score and make the music available, the music is going to be a lot more appreciated and more pianists are going to go to it if they can hear it first. That’s why I recorded these things. 

The album opens with Variations on a Theme of Paganini, a piece most concertgoers or classical music fans have heard for years. How do you approach something that is as familiar as that for a transcription versus something that an audience may not know as well?

It was really a fun thing to do and I instinctively chose the theme simply because it’s one of those things which is easy to elaborate on. I mean, the structure is very simple. It’s very easy to remember and you can riff on it in just a gazillion different ways. A piece like that, for me, is an expression of freedom in a sense. I couldn’t resist having fun and quoting different composers. I’m sure you heard, variation seven I think it is, there’s a passage and one of the variations in the Beethoven Sonata, opus 109, it’s in E major. I transposed it to A minor and for 16 bars, it’s already a Paganini variation. I didn’t have to change anything. That was a lot of fun. When I came across this little bit I thought, I can’t not use this. This is too good. And it happens to be quite funny.

Do you, as a composer, have any conversations with you as a pianist in terms of what is truly possible to play versus what you want to express in the notes themselves?

At the beginning when I started to write, I just wrote whatever I wanted. Whatever I heard, without really too much concession to pianistic comfort. I was wondering why nobody was playing my things. Even I had trouble and I wrote them. So over the years, as I gained experience, I was able to make things sound the way I wanted without them being so difficult. But I’ll always carry that reputation of my things being almost unplayable. But I can assure you that there’s a lot that I wrote which is perfectly approachable. 

Are there other ways in which you feel you have evolved as a composer? 

I think that my harmonic system, such as it is, because I’ve never tried to explain it, really hasn’t changed that much. I think if anything has changed, I think I’ve gotten to think more about expressing pure music than thinking in pianistic terms. 

Your Hyperion Recordings now available for streaming. Do you feel this new way of distributing music, however challenging it might be economically for a performing artists like yourself, balances out with this newfound exposure that people can suddenly have to countless recordings of yours?

I think exposure is really the priority here. We should be thankful for that. A lot of people, over the last few years, have complained to me, we can’t find you on Spotify. We can find your early recordings on other labels. Hyperion resisted for the longest time and purely for financial reasons. But now that they’ve been bought by a large corporation, the justification is there. I think people are just so pleased as punch that Hyperion is finally being heard. The catalog is a golden treasure trove of discoveries and wonderful performances.

What do you think the role is of a transcription in allowing listeners new ways of hearing works that they’re familiar with, or new ways of hearing music that they’re not familiar with, for that matter?

In many cases, it’s about expanding the repertoire. A lot of solo instrumentalists are envious of something like the Franck Violin Sonata and they want to play it. So there are arrangements for cello, for flute and other solo instruments as well. I’ve always been fascinated by composer’s views of other composers; appreciations of other composers. I think really a transcription is just another way of expressing that. It’s paying tribute, let’s say. You think of what Busoni did with the Bach Chaconne from the D minor Partita. He really built a wonderful cathedral of sound. There are some people who don’t like the transcription, but I personally view it as a tremendous act of reverence for a composer.

Amongst my favorite transcriptions are Liszt’s transcriptions of Wagner. I think those are really interesting because we’re so used to his big, huge orchestral arrangements. To have it pared down to one instrument, I find it endlessly fascinating and a different way of hearing Wagner. 

The only ones that I’ve played are the Liebestod (from Tristan und Isolde) and also the Tannhauser Overture. But that particular one, I don’t like pianistically. It’s in E major and it feels, under the fingers, like completely the wrong key. 

It’s interesting you say that because I spent a little bit of time over the years with Stephen Sondheim. He and I were talking once about The Ballad of Sweeney Todd. He said it’s published in F minor, but it sounds so much better in F-sharp minor. I went to my piano at home and played it. He was right. It’s shocking how even a half-step difference can have such profound effects on a piece of music.

Keys are a very important. They have personalities. They really do. Gerald Moore, the famous pianist, expresses that very, very eloquently. He guards against sometimes indulging transposition – a singer’s transposing. Because you can stray too far from the original mood of the song.

Liszt is quoted as having said, “My piano is to me what a ship is to the sailor. It is the intimate, personal depository of everything that’s stirred wildly in my brain during the most impassioned days of my youth. It was there that all my wishes, all my dreams, all my joys and all my sorrows lay.” What is your piano to you?

An extension of my thought. An instrument of communication and sharing and joy.

To watch the full interview with Marc-André Hamelin, please go here.

All photos of Marc-André Hamelin (Photo by Sim Cannety Clarke/Courtesy Colbert Artists Management)

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During the first half of this concert music by Tan Dun (Concerto for Six), Yi-Wen Jiang (Selections from ChinaSong) and Bright Sheng (Four Movements For Piano Trio) will be performed.

Wang was born in China and joined the LA Phil in 1994. She’s a beautiful musician and audiences may know her best from her on-stage collaborations with composer John Williams. Wang is the featured soloist any year in which the Theme from Schindler’s List is played as part of the Maestro of the Movies concerts.

Wang has performed under music directors Esa-Pekka Salonen and Gustavo Dudamel. She will soon find her third music director on the podium after Dudamel leaves for the New York Philharmonic.

Last week I spoke with Wang about this concert, the significance of the music she programmed and about her musical partnership with Williams. What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity. To see the full interview with Wang, please go to our YouTube channel.

Q: What does the New Year mean to you personally and do you associate any particular music with the New Year?

All New Years means so much for many of us coming from Asia. I heard a comparison that it is like Thanksgiving and Christmas combined. I have to say it is that combined and much more. There are many traditions. Traditions with foods that we eat for Lunar New Year and of course, music. What I’m going to perform, it’s not really traditional New Year’s music. But certainly, as people will hear, it’s very effective. It’s very colorful. It’s going to be very festive. 

I guess being colorful and festive makes it easier for Western audiences to hear Chinese music. 

In fact, as I was practicing Harvest Celebration [one of the ChinaSongs], it came to my mind this is exactly the drum beats and the percussive rhythm that people would feel at a local dance. I’m going to speak at the beginning of the concert. I will ask people who has seen a Lion Dance. They will really associate that with the rhythm that they will hear in Harvest Celebration.

The concert opens with Yi-Wen Jiang’s adaptations of traditional songs. Then you’ve got music by Bright Sheng and Tan Dun. The second half of the program is Mendelssohn’s string quintet. What’s the conversation that you see taking place between the first half of the concert and the second half of the concert?

I actually wouldn’t be the expert right now to tell you. But I do want to mention that to the audience that viola quintet is a form of chamber music that’s less common than a string quartet and a piano trio. Bright Sheng’s piano trio brings back a lot of familiar memories to me melodically. So I recommended that piece and I suggested Yi-Wen Jiang’s transcription of the three string quartet pieces. In terms of Mendelssohn viola quintet, it’s a master work of the chamber music repertoire. What is the connection? I cannot just ignore that when I introduce the program. In terms of how I see that, it’s as if we give you some beautiful hamburgers on the Chinese banquet table.

Selections from ChinaSongs opens the concert. Those are based on traditional songs. What can you tell me about those songs and their cultural significance? 

The first piece is Yao Dance. It means dances of the Yao People. The Yao People is from the south west of China. They are a minority. They love to sing and dance and they have beautiful music. The second one is Shepherd’s Song, and this is folk music from the Inner Mongolia. [It’s] really about the shepherds in the prairie and has a lot to do with singing. Shepherd Song and Harvest Celebration are both very well known as solo music for violin with piano accompaniment. So these two are the pieces that I played many times when I was growing up in China.

Shepherd Song is slow. It’s beautiful. It’s music originally written for a Chinese instrument, which is called suona, which is a double reed instrument. It sounds like an extremely loud oboe. It’s an instrument that people play in festival settings like weddings and New Years. It’s very loud. A composer transcribed that for violin. It’s really a great piece that always brings down the hall because it’s so lively and loud. It’s exciting. It has syncopation. It has rhythmic changes. It’s always a fantastic piece for a performance.

Where do you believe Tan Dun’s work stands in the world of contemporary classical music in general, and in the music by Chinese-American composers?

I really think Tan Dun is very important, if not the most important, living Chinese composer. I always thought that from the very beginning. He always incorporates a lot of elements from back home and not only the familiar melodies that I grew up listening to. He went into places in China that we’ve never been to. I think he’s so innovative. I feel he’s always ahead of all time.

Tan Dun and Bright Sheng were in the same composition class at the Central Conservatory in Beijing. That’s the first class right after culture revolution ended. We always consider that to be the most important and the greatest composition class period in Chinese history. So they both attended and were in that class, and they both came to Columbia University and had their doctorate at Columbia University. We actually turned out to have two composers from the same background and education.

What does it mean to you to have Chinese music part of the programing at the Los Angeles Philharmonic or any other orchestral institution that chooses to program it?

I feel it’s very important. Not only in L.A. Society is so diverse and it’s important that we understand each other’s music and background. So I’m always thrilled to be the interpreter or to introduce that music to a broader audience. Obviously in L.A., needless to say, we have so many people of Chinese heritage.

Increased exposure to non-traditional music and contemporary classical music began in earnest under Esa-Pekka Salonen. Gustavo Dudamel has done a wonderful job of continuing that tradition. What are your hopes that whomever the new music director is announced to replace Gustavo Dudamel will follow in those footsteps and continue to present music from other cultures and from newer composers that don’t traditionally fit into programing?

I have no doubt whoever our next music director will be will be innovative and will bring their new angle and strength in this following champions of modern music. Gustavo came and look at how much music he brought in. We’ve played so much music of South American composers that we really had not a lot of exposure to before. So I feel whoever will come will bring their unique angle on this.

Is it time for a woman to be the music director?

Maybe. We will see. I think we are trying not to put an expectation to fulfill a certain agenda or a role. Yes, we are looking. We are taking our time. We are hopeful. We’ve had Gustavo for 17 years.

I noticed how carefully you skirted around that question. If Gustavo said, hey, there’s a place for you at the New York Philharmonic, would you join him?

I have to say this, I will not. My home is in LA and my part is here. 

One of the advantages of having your home in Los Angeles is the relationship that you’ve developed off-stage and on-stage with John Williams. What can you tell me about your close musical relationship with him and how that developed? 

It all started after I joined the L.A. Phil. My first summer was 1995, and then, in 1998, I remember very clearly when he first programmed a violin solo. On that program it was Sabrina and he was so thrilled. We connected and the rest is history. We have have performed yearly ever since then. So it’s more than 25 years now. I’ve also toured with him. There’s nothing else quite like that.

When I’m asked your favorite conductor, I will bring up John Williams’ name. Who will give you this kind of experience for me?

When you are on stage, immersed in this music and you look up the composer looking down at you – that kind of connection, that kind of gift and experience cannot be replaced.

He has written a violin concerto or two. Maybe you could be a soloist on one of those.

It is my goal. Yes. Someday I will play one of those concertos and not just the three minute solo, which I do love. 

Being a young girl growing up in China, could you ever have imagined this kind of experience with the most beloved film composer of all times, with arguably the greatest orchestra in the United States? What does it mean to you every night when you get on stage, whether you’re a member of of a small ensemble, as you will be Tuesday, or a soloist with the entire Philharmonic?

Thank you for asking me that question, because I feel that every day. I could not have imagined. When I attended the Middle School of Shanghai Conservatory and practiced around the clock. When I came here on a full scholarship to attend Peabody Conservatory. Then when I attended Manhattan’s School of Music and studied under Glen Dicterow, who is a colleague at USC Thornton School of Music. I could not have imagined that my professional path would have taken me this far. Even when I joined the L.A. Phil at age of 26, I could not have imagined how my professional development have evolved and grown.

I have an important part of my career that is teaching now. I already have one former student in the orchestra and I have another incoming former student. This is really the greatest feeling to see the next generation, developing under my guidance.

On your page on USC’s website, you are quoted about your teaching philosophy that, “The intent is always to motivate and to inspire them to become better instrumentalists and complete musicians.” I was intrigued by complete musician. When did you realize you were a complete musician and what does it mean to you? Or how do you define what a complete musician is?

I hope I live by example. You don’t only win the job and play the notes and make a salary. Complete musicians means you’re devoted. That you are involved in music. Your responsibility includes sharing, cultivating, giving, which is so important. I would say at my ripe old age, I feel I’m still changing and hopefully getting better. I’m still hoping to become a better musician, artist and a teacher. That, for me, means you’re complete musician. You are immersed and giving.

Berl Sinofsky [one of Wang’s former teachers] is quoted as saying that, “Music is a higher calling than just a profession or living. It is an effort in understanding something bigger than yourself. It is an effort at striving to be something bigger than you are.” In what ways has music given you that understanding of something bigger and that ability to be something bigger? 

I doubt I can give really a deserving answer to your question. I think that’s a great statement that he gave. I hope to do more is really part of my answer. It’s going to be what I said earlier. I think by really doing good with my music and really becoming more than just a musician by really helping others and be involved and immersed in a community. I think that’s that’s what I’m hoping to do.

To watch the full interview with Bing Wang, please go here.

All photos courtesy of Los Angeles Philharmonic

The post Bing Wang and the LA Phil Celebrate The Year of the Dragon appeared first on Cultural Attaché.

Composer George Gershwin did not know he was expected to write a new work for a concert that Paul Whiteman called An Experiment in Modern Music until his brother Ira read about it in the paper several weeks earlier. Gershwin went to work and the end result was Rhapsody in Blue.

That concert took place at 3:00 PM on February 12, 1924 at Aeolian Concert Hall which stood just east of 6th Avenue in Manhattan. (Go to this link to hear a 1924 recording with Gershwin at the piano with Paul Whiteman and his orchestra).

Since that jazz band version (arranged by Ferde Grofé) there has been the fully-orchestrated concert version (the standard version heard played by symphonies around the world) and multiple re-workings of Rhapsody in Blue by artists ranging from Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington to Chick Corea, Marcus Roberts (on his album Portraits in Blue) and a new re-imaginging that was released recently by pianist Lara Downes with composer/percussionist Edmar Colón.

I recently spoke with Roberts, Downes and St. Louis Symphony Orchestra’s Conductor Laureate Leonard Slatkin, whose 1974 recording of Rhapsody in Blue is one of the first recordings I owned. We discussed their first memories of hearing the piece; its longevity and appeal and also a recent article written by Ethan Iverson for the New York Times.

You can read Iverson’s full story here, but he says, in part, “If Rhapsody in Blue is a masterpiece, it might be the worst masterpiece. The promise of a true fusion on the concert stage basically starts and ends with it. A hundred years later, most popular Black music is separate from the world of formal composition, while most American concert musicians can’t relate to a score with a folkloric attitude, let alone swing.”

What follows are excerpts that have been edited for length and clarity. You can see all three of my interviews on our YouTube channel.

DOWNES: I have this fuzzy memory of hearing the bit you would imagine used for figure skating in the Olympics. That’s one of my earliest memories I can pinpoint.

SLATKIN: Actually it’s so long ago, I don’t think I remember, but I suspect that like everybody else, the first thing was the clarinet at the beginning more than the piano part. It was a sound that we really hadn’t heard before.

ROBERTS: I was a child, probably 12 years old, maybe 13. The funny thing is I remember hearing the piece, but when I first heard it, I didn’t know that’s what it was called. I think I heard it on the radio, maybe in the middle of it or something and I was really attracted to it. It was soulful. I could tell it had something in it that I could identify with. And of course, years later, I figured out that it was indeed Rhapsody in Blue.

SLATKIN: I hung out with a lot of jazz musicians, but I didn’t know so much about big band jazz. So this idea that whether it appeared in a symphonic form or in a band version didn’t really strike me as anything other than something very unusual that I wasn’t used to. 

ROBERTS: Now that I’m grown up and I’ve been out here playing a long time, I don’t know if I was thinking this way as a kid, but I think it was the fact that the themes were relatable to me, meaning they seemed to come right out of my cultural experience.

DOWNES: What was happening in American music and all of the things that were coming together and all the things that were changing so fast. Understanding what was happening in Black music at that time in the early part of the 20th century and this hybrid language that was developing.

SLATKIN: In order to understand that, we have to go back to that first performance and understand why it was so important. This concert is organized by Paul Whiteman – An Experiment in Modern Music. We didn’t really have American music for the concert hall. Yes, there were composers in America, and yes, many of them were born in the States. But the sound of the music itself reflected a more European tradition.

We’re not talking about an original American music. We’re talking about borrowed music from church, from patriotic songs, from folk music. We didn’t have anything we could call our own. That’s coming up via the emerging popular music scene, probably starting with ragtime. The vernacular music of the time tended to be shorter pieces 3 or 4 minutes long. Now, all of a sudden, a large scale work 15 16 minutes was appearing. This audience, which included some of the most distinguished musicians in New York at the time, was stunned by what they heard. 

ROBERTS: He’s using American themes. He’s using themes that clearly come out of the African American experience. And as Dvorak said, that’s really the cultural identity of the country. That’s where the themes should primarily come from. Not exclusively, but that’s the richest soil that we have.

DOWNES: [When] we look at the core tradition of classical music, what we’re looking at is [often] this interchange between structured music and the vernacular. The folk music that gets absorbed into the music of Brahms and Liszt to Dvorak and everybody. So I think it’s a continuation of a tradition. I also like to look at this as omnidirectional. Gershwin is leaning back, he’s looking forward. He’s got all these things kind of pushing and pulling at him. And what he comes up with is very emblematic of its time.

SLATKIN: It’s an immediate sensation. All of a sudden composers in this country said, we have the room to grow within our own culture, within our own sound world. And from that point on, composers now began to gravitate from one world into the other.

ROBERTS: So I think that it’s ripe for improvisation because the rhythms are clear. You can hear the blues element in the melodies. When I did Portraits of Blue back in 1996, a lot of critics were not too happy about it at the time. Of course, there’s the Ellington version of it. Nobody really did it, though, with the real intention of improvising on it and bringing it literally into the jazz environment with the specific agenda of improvising on it and recreating it. Me doing that has made it clear that not only can you do it, but you should do it, and there should be many versions of it where people can do what they want with it.

SLATKIN: Even Gershwin himself added little things in different performances. I think one of the reasons that this works as an improvisatory piece, even though everything is written out by Gershwin, is because it’s essentially a number of cadenzas where the orchestra is not playing.

DOWNES: I always experience it as a dialog. I really do. I have a close relationship with the solo piano version of the piece. I play that a lot, too. So what that means is that when I play the Grofé version with an orchestra, I have to remember what not to play. But I feel very intimately involved with those orchestra bits because I need to play them myself. I’m not sure that I have an objective view of the structure, but that is something that we wanted to expand and embrace was the improvisational nature and opportunity.

ROBERTS: In the original score, it basically says something to the equivalent of wait for George to nod or something or watch George. So he was he was probably improvising on it himself when he premiered it at Aeolian Hall in 1924.

DOWNES: I think that the further that we’ve gotten from 1924, as we always do, we have started more and more setting that thing in stone, which it wasn’t originally. When you talk about Ellington and Strayhorn, they’re not that far out from the 20s. Grofé did the version in 24 and then the version with orchestra from 1942. I feel like these 100 year anniversaries, it’s important not to put things in a museum when they get to be 100 years old.

I think it’s an interesting thing that we don’t do in the world of classical music very much. There’s some of it, but we don’t tend to re-arrange, reconsider, review, re-imagine. It’s really funny for me when I work with musicians from other traditions and they’re like, you do what? You play the same notes the same way over and over again? 

ROBERTS: And I think that’s what ultimately made me want to do something different with it. The goal for me is to present the piano based on all of the music that I’ve heard in my life up till now. What is it that I understand and put it in that context.

SLATKIN: I think it’s not even fair to call this work a piece of cultural appropriation, because it doesn’t reflect what the Black musicians of the times were doing. They were going in a whole different direction. And yes, that music would pave the way for innovators such as Ellington and so many others.

DOWNES: There have been all along massive problems of inequity in the music world that were institutional. There have been a lot of closed doors and a lack of access. I don’t think that fits with the musicians themselves. I think that sits with institutional structures. I think that what musicians have always done well is listening. And I think that we listen to each other and we learn from each other and whatever is happening in our air around us, we absorb. We can’t help it unless we want to keep our heads under a rock.

ROBERTS: It’s been a struggle. There’s no secret there. There’s obviously been a lot of struggle with minorities in this country. Not just in terms of opportunities in music, but with a bunch of stuff. The fact is, had he not written it, I think there still would have been struggle. So I like to look at it more from the standpoint that he did it. It has opened up, frankly, eventually opportunities for people to still do whatever it was that they were going to do.

DOWNES: I’m so fascinated with that time in the 1920s, in the 30s. Things were changing so fast. People were encountering each other for the first time and everything was new. Jazz was new, and it was a very different thing than it is now. Just even to look at Gershwin’s very short lifetime, his 24-25 years before he wrote Rhapsody in Blue, all the things that are so quickly moving through but accumulating: the Yiddish theater and vaudeville and the beginnings of the Great American Songbook. It’s all coming together. 

SLATKIN: Gershwin didn’t intend that when he wrote it. It wasn’t I’m going to write something and therefore nobody else can go this direction ever again. Gershwin was in his own groove. He came from Tin Pan Alley. Those are people who went from door to door just pitching tunes to publishers. Most music was sold in sheet music fashion for people to play at home. Within the Black culture that was probably not the case. This was passed on more through different means. Ragtime, as practiced, say, in New Orleans or other places, was mostly an improvisatory field. It wasn’t really written out yet. 

ROBERTS: It’s not just George Gershwin. It’s not like it’s George Gershwin’s fault that he did that right. I just think the main thing that we have to focus one in this country is let’s see if we can get away from doing stuff like that. Let’s really use all of our efforts, all of our collective power, to include people and give them opportunity to succeed regardless of race, creed or gender.

SLATKIN: It’s not felt as a work that’s exclusive to one audience. Timeless works are that way for a reason, because they go over these boundaries. Rhapsody in Blue was different for its time. Could Ellington and others have appeared and done this kind of work earlier if Gershwin hadn’t done it? Maybe. But probably not. And anyway, if they wanted to go that direction, they would have done it regardless of what Gershwin did.

DOWNES: I do think that there’s a reason that things last. The piece has proven itself 100 years later and I would just love to see it continue to grow. Because I do think that was Gershwin’s intention. This musical kaleidoscope that speaks to me of endless possibility and shifts.

SLATKIN: Gershwin was all about moving forward with music. Leonard Bernstein talked about how he really was not happy that so many people knew him from West Side Story. Gershwin, I think, would have said, I’m thrilled that the Rhapsody has reached this kind of audience. And I’m pleased that my other works have also done this. He’s always the classic example, along with Mozart and Schubert, of saying what would have happened if he’d lived longer? Let’s just take what we’ve got, because what we’ve got is not bad.

ROBERTS: The attitude I have is that it’s a living work. It’s a living document. I feel like that simply is one of these pieces that’s alive every time we play it. I hope that it’ll be around for another 100 years. And I hope that there’ll be other music that America will fall in love with, that we can continue to have similar ways to collaborate jazz and classical music. 

To see my Rhapsody in Blue interview with Lara Downes and to hear more about her new album, please go here.

To see my Rhapsody in Blue interview with Marcus Roberts and to hear some exciting news about upcoming albums, please go here.

To see my Rhapsody in Blue interview with Leonard Slatkin, please go here.

Main Photo: George Gershwin (Courtesy the Billy Rose Collection/New York Public Library Archives)

The post Rhapsody in Blue is 100 appeared first on Cultural Attaché.