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 Elements had its world premiere on September 1st with the NDR Elbphilharmonie Orchestra with Alan Gilbert conducting. The US premiere took place in late September and early October with the New York Philharmonic. More performances are being scheduled and on October 25th Bell will perform three movements with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra.

Higdon is one of the most acclaimed composers of her generation. She received the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2010 for her violin concerto. She is the recipient of three Grammy Awards and her opera, Cold Mountain, had its world premiere in 2016 at Santa Fe Opera.

Higdon didn’t get to choose her movement. She took Air as her movement and thought quickly and decisively about the role her movement would play in Bell’s commission.

In this conversation she talks about her approach to Air, thinking about Joshua Bell as the soloist and the role of air in her daily life. 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: Joshua Bell had the idea of the elements and then adding space as a fifth component. But was it a lottery? How did you each composer get the element that you ended up writing? 

When Joshua called me he said, “Well, the elements have all been picked, so the only thing left is air.” And I said, okay, I’ll do air. At that point there were only four composers – we didn’t have space as part of it. At some point he decided he wanted space to be a part of the equation and they asked Jessie Montgomery. So I think the guys all picked the elements they wanted. Then they called me.

If it had all been open and you could have chosen any one of the five, which one do you think you would have chosen? 

Well, I think I could have come up with stuff for all of them. There was something interesting about air, though, because I’m a former flute player, so there was something striking about it and I might have picked that. 

I would say that if I were writing one of the other movements, it would be very different than what I wrote. Because to me the different elements feel like musically they would need to have different character just in the materials, the way it’s handled, the speed and the tempo. There are a lot of ways to go, but I think every composer approaches this according to their inner gyroscope. 

You weren’t dealing with air as wind. You were dealing with it as what we take in, what we breathe, what we need, what the planet needs. How did you go from conceiving the work as being about that component of air to what you actually put on paper?

I thought strategically, because I’ve written a lot for violin. My colleagues, I figured, would be excited to write some really virtuosic stuff for Joshua, which he plays fantastic. I thought to myself, what would the audience need to hold them through a long concerto? I love Joshua’s playing. His tone is beautiful in the lyrical lines he plays in all of the concertos and the solo stuff he does.

Maybe I should go and emphasize that and just make a quiet spot so the audience can breathe. I was thinking about the breathing thing. This is a much calmer sort of experience. It’s also a challenge for me because normally I write a lot of fast notes. 

For somebody who writes a lot of notes, how much does stillness, how much does silence, play a role in your concept of air? 

Actually quite a bit – especially in this. I used many more wind and brass voicings and less strings, partly to set off Joshua’s violin voice, but also just because they use air. I do put pauses in there. I make everything move slowly.

I was thinking a lot about the seasons. One of the things that strikes me is when seasonal changes come, the first thing we usually notice is the air when we step outside. The spring smells very different than the fall and winter. The bite of winter feels very different than the summer humidity that we often get on the East Coast. Part of it was just thinking about the distinctiveness of the air.

But I also thought about the fact that the word air is often used as a musical term meaning song, aria. The word aria came out of air, so that made for me a different kind of challenge than most people have. They have trouble filling things up. My goal is backing off and calming down. So I thought this would be a good way to do this. 

How does a work like The Elements come together given that five different composers are writing individual movements for it?

That’s the one thing about this concerto that’s fascinating. Every sound world is different because it’s a different composer. So you’re getting real variety in what you’re hearing. It makes the musical experience different than if you were listening to just a 40-minute concerto from one composer. The language is changing, the pacing, the rhythm, the interchange between the orchestra and the soloist. Actually it’s very, very effective. 

Is cohesion an outdated idea for contemporary works?

I think artists can’t really say anything is outdated. I think everything’s on the board. I like the idea of variety. We can have both. We could have cohesion within our own little movements.

One thing that gives Joshua a chance to do, if he does another piece with another orchestra and he wants to do one of these movements, he can do that. He can just pull it because the things work as self-contained units. They could also combine like maybe two or three of them if he needs a medium size work.

[As is the case with Bell’s October 25th concert with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra where he will perform the Bruch Violin Concerto and three movements from “The Elements.”]

In an interview that you gave to Annelena Lobb for the Wall Street Journal in 2005, she asked what you did to relax. After answering that you walked and went to the movies a lot, she said, “So it’s not music all the time?” And your response was, “I think that would be hard. The brain needs to breathe.” It seems as though, even 18 years ago, you were considering breath and air as part of your need to be healthy. 

My answer is still I take breaks. I compose about 6 hours a day, I have to take breaks. Our brain really does need to break because sometimes it has to solve the musical problems you’re wrestling with. If I go too long without walking, I get cranky in the same way that I get cranky if I go too long without composing. I’m really bad about taking the breaks, but I’ve learned through the years to make sure I do it because it actually helps the music.

What is the conversation that you would like to see amongst contemporary composers that maybe is a different conversation than the one that happens when contemporary works are sandwiched with the works by composers from anywhere from 100 or more years ago? 

I’m not sure how to answer that because I’m always on with older works. One of the things I have noticed when I attend concerts [is] the concerts that seem to be drawing more people are the ones that have some contemporary music on it. I’m not sure what shifted during the pandemic, but something did, and I can tell from quite a few of the concerts I have been to have been sold out. A lot of times I see orchestras just doing the same pieces over and over again, the audiences are shrinking.

One of the things I encounter a lot is the number of people who come up to me and say, “Oh my God, I’m so glad to see a woman on the program.” I didn’t realize how much it meant to other people. I just am writing the music. But other people take it as my voice is heard from the orchestral stage. I think that’s more important than a lot of people may realize because it makes it more relevant in the community. 

I always think of using music now to pull people in to hear an event or something that’s unusual and then program something else on that you really like. I fear that the audience is going to drop off too much. I think LA [Philharmonic] is doing an amazing job balancing that. It may be the orchestra that’s doing it probably better than anyone else.

You works get performed a lot around the world. You’re right up there with Phillip Glass and John Adams. Let’s say you’re in rarified air.

I’m lucky. I have like 250 performances a year, so I get pieces that are just repeated much more than Mozart or Beethoven ever heard in their lifetime. That’s actually an incredible, miraculous thing when I think about it.

I think that more people will get more performances if artistic administrators were looking around, were aware of more composers coming up. It’s ironic. I’m talking to you in L.A. The L.A. Phil is literally the last major orchestra in the United States who has not done my music. I think I’ve worked probably with 700 or 800 orchestras around the world. But the L.A. Phil is literally the only one that I’ve not had a performance with and I get asked about that now all the time. It’s unusual because [1999’s] Blue Cathedral, we’ve had 800 orchestras do that piece and even that hasn’t been in L.A. I’m sure it’ll get corrected in the next couple of years. 

Edith Wharton is quoted as having said, “The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.” How does the air of ideas inspire you as you move forward throughout your career?

It seems to me like anyone who is creative just lives in the era of ideas. Although I do know a lot of composers who struggle. If you’re able to actually write every day that tends to make the air produce more ideas. But I think you have to always be thinking. A lot of times people only get to work some small amount of time on a job. I think it’s hard to kind of air out the laundry and and get fresh ideas in what you’re doing. So it’s interesting. I know that’s a really good question. Isn’t that applicable to anyone doing anything creative, though?

Without that air and without those ideas, we’re stuck.

We’d be dead. It would not be an interesting world. Even the kids would come up with some cool idea of how to skateboard in a different way or something that’s also living in the air of ideas. That’s literally having your ideas fly through the air. But let’s look at the Wright brothers. Those are radical ideas. Same for astronauts and NASA. But I also realize that someone is cleaning a floor somewhere and they’re going, you know, there’s probably a better way to do this. The idea of raising kids, it takes constant creativity, always thinking. So I guess that quote is factual and is applicable to every human being that crosses this planet.

To see the full interview with Jennifer Higdon, please go here.

To learn more about The Elements, please go here.

Main Photo: Jennifer Higdon (Courtesy JenniferHigdon.com)

The post Composer Jennifer Higdon Lives in the Air of Ideas appeared first on Cultural Attaché.

Place was a Pulitzer Prize-finalist in 2018. The committee called it, “A brave and powerful work, marked by effective vocal writing and multiple musical genres, that confronts issues of gentrification and displacement in Fort Greene, Brooklyn.” Hearne wrote the music and part of the libretto. He collaborated with poet Saul Williams who write the rest of the libretto.

The Los Angeles Philharmonic New Music Group is presenting Place on Tuesday evening at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. Hearne will be conducting the performance which is directed by Patricia McGregor. She was recently named the incoming Artistic Director at the New York Theater Workshop.

Last week I spoke via Zoom with Hearne about Place, how he’s reconciled his own ideas about the issues the work raises and how his composing allows him to understand himself better. What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity.

You stated previously that you were confronted with your own feelings after hearing Spike Lee speak at the Pratt Institute about people and the relationship they have to their neighborhood. How did composing and writing Place impact your own perception of how you relate to your neighborhood? Has the time since the work debut altered your perceptions about that relationship, if it has?

One thing that changed is that I started to see the divisions that I created in my own life and my own sense of identity and my own self and how maybe I’ve created a proxy for thinking about those divisions. What I mean by that is that through this process, I started really looking at texts about whiteness and white identity and white supremacy and it got very personal in a way that I think it hadn’t before this process. And that’s a big way that my thinking changed. 

It was as blunt of an interrogation of the tenets of white supremacy and that systemic racism that were embedded in my own upbringing, in my own identity. That was totally not academic because all of my artistic work was right there front and center and that’s a big part of my heart and soul.

I think part of growing up in a place with so much systemic racism as a white person is often, at least in my house, in my generation, it is growing up with the idea that your perspective as a white person is like the neutral one. No one ever like told me, “Oh, that’s a better perspective” or that you’re better than anybody else explicitly. But also no one really told me that to be raised as a white person entailed kind of its own identity. So in a way being raised with this paucity of identity itself. I don’t think anyone should be raised that way. But this process was like a cartography process of mapping all the ways that white supremacy or racism was present just in all of my individual small interactions and the fundamental structures of family.

I’m happy to say that I think the conversation around all these issues has progressed a lot since when I started writing the piece. I’m not saying that any of this stuff was taught to me intentionally. But that’s, of course, the problem. This process really helps me connect all of these concepts which I’ve been wrestling with since basically coming of age in this culture so it makes sense.

Having come through this process how do you reconcile the dichotomy between the shining concert hall on the hill that is Walt Disney Concert Hall and the huge homeless community, mostly non-white, that are mere blocks away. Should that impact the way an audience experiences Place?

I hope it influences the way people see work like this. That dichotomy is all around us in this in this culture, right? In this society and this in this country, in the city. We’re living at a time of a large increase in the number of unhoused people in the city. And there’s a huge increase in aggressive, violent police action to remove unhoused people from the places that they’re dwelling.

Part of the process in writing this piece has been to think about displacement and the connections of displacement and systemic racism. Wrestling with inequalities that have been built into the systemic fabric of these institutions. I know that there are good people within these institutions that are trying to root out these inequalities and trying to create really safe spaces for all sorts of different types of people. But it’s not easy.

Including, I would assume, safe spaces for artists who aren’t just white to be recognized in the performing arts world as well.

Especially American music. There are these incredible innovators who just were never included in institutional music or classical music as we now call it. And I think that the reason that they weren’t included is because they’re not white. Duke Ellington being the most obvious example of a composer who was creating music that is symphonic and who’s pushing boundaries in so many different directions; creating this unique American work. I’m not saying that that necessarily affected Duke Ellington’s reputation, but I do think that when we say classical music we should acknowledge that it’s based on this history of exclusion.

When we think about the language that we use to talk about why certain artists are innovative or important we often romanticize it and leave out all of these very blunt and important sociological contexts: who had access to certain streams of money and who is a white man. These are actually very important parts of it. When we take all this together, we can see how the genre and institution of classical music has been sculpted.

During the pandemic you did an at-home version of Place that was streamed online. Did that prompt any reconsideration of the work that you had already completed or any reflection on what to do next?

I don’t feel like the piece was done until we did the version in March 2020 where we were all sheltering in place. We had already made the album and the album was about to come out. We had all the tracks from all the instrumental performances, from all these brilliant instrumentalists that we recorded across the country to make the piece. But then these singers, who were prepared and all ready to do the whole show, were stuck at home as we all were. So we decided to make this at home version.

The people in the cast, the singers, they all live very differently and they were all affected differently. It was more traumatic to some than others. Something about that, plus the fact that this is a piece about place and displacement. Through people just capturing themselves at their microphone, but capturing the whole environment, we were able to get a really personal picture into the lives of all the singers. I think that was the last key to understanding the piece. It gave us something that we didn’t get when we were doing a large stage version. It made the piece really intimate and we use that in the remount of the piece that we’re doing now in 2022. 

Saul Williams wrote in Said the Shotgun to the Head, “I have offered myself to the inkwell of the wordsmith that I might be shaped in terms of being.” Ted, what is offering yourself to the inkwell of composing allowing you to be?

I’m pretty impulsive. I make like really large works sometimes that take years to make. I feel like often it’s driven by things that I feel in a moment or things that I feel [in] a cumulative succession of moments that feel powerful. I tend to use that as an engine. And then look later at the thing I made.

It’s the learning that comes from the rigorous process of composing. It’s through the rigor of holding yourself to really high standards and making sure that the piece understands and respects itself. Setting those strictures up as clearly and as well-constructed as possible. I think that through that discipline I can come to a much clearer understanding of who I am and who I am in the world. Without composing I don’t know if I would have any motivation to do that. If I didn’t have that process, I think that I would be drawn to living in a way that had no impact. Through composing I can continually examine my impact. 

I am really interested in living in a way that helps other people be better. But I have to help myself be better. I know it’s very presumptuous to think you can help other people be better without really putting yourself through the paces continuously. So I think composing is just the whole apparatus for that. 

Place is produced by Beth Morrison Projects. To see when Place might be performed in your area, I suggest you go to BMP’s website here.

Main photo: Ted Hearne conducting Place (Photo courtesy Unison Media)

The post Composer Ted Hearne Seeks to Understand His Place appeared first on Cultural Attaché.

All that success would certainly lead to multiple opportunities for both her existing works and for the commission of new works. But then COVID happened and works stayed on the shelf until performances resumed. As restrictions lifted the opportunity for world premieres came back, but Reid wanted to revisit those works to see what they have to say now as opposed to what they might have said had they been performed as previously scheduled.

Amongst those works is Floodplain which is being given its world premiere by the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra in three concerts beginning on May 12th. There was also TODAY AND TODAY AND TODAY AND TODAY AND TODAY AND TODAY AND TODAY AND TODAY AND TODAY AND TODAY which had its world premiere in February with the Seattle Symphony.

A lot to discuss with Reid for sure. What follows are excerpts from our conversation that have been edited for length and clarity.

What impact did winning the Pulitzer Prize, which you have described as “positive trauma,” have on you and your work?

I think it’s hard to know because you don’t know what the other side looks like. But I do think that as someone who has ideas that are outside the box, it’s allowed for me to have them heard a little easier, which is all the difference in the world, really.

And I think the biggest challenge for any composer today once you get a commission is finding where performances two, three, four and five are going to be.

Totally. But also you make getting a commission sound really easy.

Based on the conversations that I’ve had with other composers, commissions are easier to get than additional performances.

It’s true. Also, I like collaborating. I like things that are often a little nontraditional. So being able to bring those things into the world, there’s just a little bit more space to dream.

Floodplain was scheduled to premiere two years ago. You’ve stated that the pandemic allowed you a chance to revisit the work before LA Chamber Orchestra performs the work. Can you describe the fundamental changes between what you had written and what is being performed?

I have a few different ways to explain it. So the way that I like to work is I like to work on something a lot and then kind of put it on a shelf and work on other things and then come back to it, look at it, work on it a lot, put on the shelf and then when the deadline comes, clear everything off. You know, chop it up, mix it up, make it come together again.

I was on the second time of working through the material when COVID hit. So it wasn’t like I’m done. Final note. I had a lot of themes, a lot of material. I knew how I wanted some of it to flow.

I just made the commitment during COVID after things kept getting postponed that at a point I wasn’t going to work on something until I knew it was going to happen – as much as one can ever know anything, which is never. I decided to not work on things that weren’t within view. And so this one stayed on the shelf for a long time. I sometimes think about – this is so dorky – but think about composing like baking. You know, where part of the process of certain breads is this proofing* process? And some of them need to proof and some of them that changes the texture of the bread. So this piece proofed for a very long time.

When I got it down off the shelf I was like, What? What is this? What are you and what does this want to be? How can this feel relevant now? The work maintains a lot of the melodic themes and some of the chordal gestures. There is the rhythmic section and some other things that weren’t in the original sketches that kind of emerged from the long proof process.

Do you think that those who want to can find insight into your experience or your perspective of the COVID era or the pandemic itself?

That’s a little strong, I think. How to answer the question? It’s less direct. You know, the thing I like about the word Floodplain is it implies sometimes things go sideways. Not every day. Sometimes it’s going to flood and then otherwise it’s really fertile. So I think this kind of unpredictability, this kind of unsettledness that I still feel. I’m learning to trust and make plans again. I think some of those things are certainly somewhere in the work, but it’s not very specific.

Did the pandemic allow you time for introspection and did that change the way you thought about your work and/or how you want to express yourself?

I didn’t sit down and say, here’s what I want, X, Y, Z. But I think that any time anyone goes through anything challenging you just get to know yourself better. And you get to learn what what matters and that changes. I had to sit with myself a lot. There wasn’t as many distractions and there was a lot of unknown. And sitting with the unknown brought up some new things I’m interested in and things that I’m not interested anymore in a very clear way that it might have just taken a lot more time to find had we not had that experience.

I want to talk to you about Lunar Composition Lab, which I think is such an incredible thing that you and Missy Mazzzoli are doing in supporting female, non-binary and gender nonconforming composers. You’re six years in at this point. What impact would you like Luna and its graduates and fellows to have on the future of contemporary music? 

Great question. And the answer is kind of a non-answer, which is I want something that we can’t even see. For these fellows and alums, the fact they have their community, they have role models, they have mentorship, they have doors opening for them. I want for them to go somewhere that Missy and I and you can’t even envision. That’s what I want.

I know you’ve talked about how every project starts with a blank page. In Stephen Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George the first words are “White. A blank page or canvas. The challenge, to bring order to the whole through design. Composition. Tension. Balance. Light and harmony.” Do you see your challenges as more similar or more different than as it is expressed in the opening moment of that musical? 

I’m exploring my relationship right now with the blank page. I don’t know if that’s really accurate because we live in this multitude of our own imagination, so that the blank page is never blank. So I’m exploring how to start each piece actually with something on the page. Whether it’s finding a fragment of something and saying this is where we’re starting or the last pitch of the piece I just wrote. How actually to avoid the blank page because one hand it will be blank and it won’t be blank no matter what you do.

*proofing: the final stage of allowing dough to rise before baking

Main photo: Ellen Reid (Photo by Erin Baiano/Courtesy Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra)

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For those of us who remember when we first heard of the show or first saw it, it seems inconceivable that it has been a quarter century since the show become a phenomenon and would go on to win the Tony Award for Best Musical and the Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

It also made stars out of Taye Diggs, Jesse L. Martin, Idina Menzel (in her Broadway debut), Adam Pascal (in his Broadway debut), Anthony Rapp and Daphne Rubin-Vega (in her Broadway debut). Rent ran for over 12 years on Broadway with a total of 5,123 performances.

To celebrate this silver anniversary, New York Theatre Workshop is holding a fundraiser called 25 Years of Rent: Measured In Love. The event will feature a reunion of numerous cast veterans from the many productions of the musical that have taken place.

Those scheduled to perform include: Gilles Chiasson (Steve and others on Broadway), Wilson Jermaine Heredia (originated the role of Angel/Tony Award), Rodney Hicks (Benny on Broadway), Christopher Jackson (Hamilton), Kristen Lee Kelly (Maureeen – Broadway), Tamika Lawrence (Mrs. Jefferson and others in the 2011 off-Broadway revival), Jesse L. Martin (originated the role of Tom Collins), Idina Menzel (originated the role of Maureen), Aiko Nakasone (Alexi Darling on Broadway), Eva Noblezada (Hadestown), Adam Pascal (originated the role of Roger), Ben Platt (Dear Evan Hansen), Billy Porter (Kinky Boots), Anthony Rapp (originated the role of Mark), Daphne Rubin-Vega (originated the role of Mimi), Ali Stroker (Oklahoma!), Tracie Thoms (Joanne on Broadway), Byron Utley (multiple roles on Broadway for the entire run), and Fredi Walker-Browne (Joanne on Broadway).

New songs from Joe Iconis (Be More Chill), The Lazours, Benj Pasek and Justin Paul (Dear Evan Hansen) and Rona Siddiqui will also be performed.

Additional participants will include: Sebastian Arcelus (Roger on Broadway), Annaleigh Ashford (Maureen in an off-Broadway revival in 2011), Assistant Director Martha Banta, Adam Chanler-Berat (Mark in the 2011 off-Broadway revival), Linda Chapman, Nicholas Christopher (Collins in the 2011 off-Broadway revival), Set Designer Paul Clay, Wilson Cruz (Angel on Broadway), Brandon Victor Dixon (Hamilton), casting director Wendy Ettinger, producer Stephen Graham, director Michael Greif, Janet Harckham, playwright Jeremy O. Harris (Slave Play), Neil Patrick Harris (Mark on tour), Victoria Leacock Hoffman (producer of tick, tick…Boom!, Mariko Kojima, Julie Larson (the composer’s sister), Telly Leung (Angel at the Hollywood Bowl), Kamilah Marshall, producer Kevin McCollum, Lin-Manuel Miranda (Hamilton), Anaïs Mitchell (Hadestown), Shakina Nayfack (Difficult People), NYTW Artistic Director James C. Nicola, playwright Dael Orlandersmith (Until the Flood), Councilmember Carlina Rivera, Jai Rodriguez (Angel on Broadway), producer Jeffrey Seller, director Leigh Silverman (Grand Horizons), Ephraim Sykes (Benny in the 2011 off-Broadway revival), casting director Bernie Telsey, producer Jennifer Ashley Tepper, director Ivo van Hove (West Side Story revival), Tom Viola (Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS), Rent Music Supervisor Tim Weil, Rent Costume Designer Angela Wendt, Rent Choreographer Marlies Yearby and more.

My personal Rent memory surrounds my first time seeing the musical in New York on December 19, 1996. I was in New York with my friend, Matthew Barry. Like everyone I knew, I, too, was fascinated about seeing this musical that was the must-see show on everyone’s list. I didn’t know much about it beyond it depicted the lives of a group of people who lived in the East Village of New York. I also knew that it was inspired by Puccini’s opera, La Bohème. That was it.

Almost the entire original cast was performing that night. The only person out for that performance was Timothy Britten Parker (who played Gordon, the man, Mr. Grey and others). He was attending his sister’s opening night in Once Upon a Mattress (his sister is Sarah Jessica Parker).

By the end of the first act I was, along with majority of theatergoers, convinced that this was a special musical. Then the second act began with the company singing Seasons of Love.

They got to the bridge with the lyrics:

In truths that she learned
Or in times that she cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

My mother had passed away three months earlier. As you can imagine, I was a mess. All I could think about was mom. I’m sure there were people around me at the Nederlander Theatre who couldn’t understand what was going on with me. I was too caught up in my emotions to care. I somehow managed to pull myself together and enjoy the second act.

After the performance was over, Matt and I left the theatre and it was lightly snowing. It felt like a sign that everything was going to be just fine. Rent, with its own story of love and loss (both on stage and off) had offered one of many forms of catharsis I would rely on to get me through that first year after my mother’s death. To this very day whenever I hear any of Larson’s songs, I always think of my mother.

What are your personal memories and experiences of seeing Rent? Leave a comment on this post.

Tickets for 25 Years of Rent: Measure in Love are $25. The show will be available for streaming through March 6th at 8:00 PM EST/5:00 PM PST.

Photo: The cast of Rent at New York Theatre Workshop (Photo by Joan Marcus)

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Angel’s Bone tells the story of a married couple who find two fallen angels. The angels have not fared well in their journey to earth. Once they have recovered their strength and are feeling better, the husband and wife use them for their own personal gain.

The libretto is by Royce Vavrek (Missy Mazzoli’s Breaking the Waves – which LA Opera will perform in February and March of 2021.)

In awarding the Pulitzer to Angel’s Bone, the committee called it “a bold work that integrates vocal and instrumental elements and a wide range of styles into a harrowing allegory for human trafficking in the modern world.”

In April of 2017, Du Yun told NPR about the work’s theme, “When we look at human trafficking, we always think that it’s far away from us. We all have our own narrative of what human trafficking is supposed to be, but if you do a little research, human trafficking happens, in many different forms and shapes, right in our backyard.”

Du Yun was one of the composers of Sweet Land which was recently produced and performed by Yuval Sharon’s The Industry.

While we won’t have opening night on May 1st to experience Angel’s Bone in person, at least we do get to see and hear the work that inspired Corinna da Fonseca-Wollheim of the New York Times to write, “It’s an appallingly good work when you consider that it takes on the subject of child trafficking and mixes in elements of magic realism and a musical cocktail of Renaissance polyphony, electronica, Modernism, punk rock and cabaret.”

Photo of Angel’s Bone performed at the New Visions Arts Festival in Hong Kong in 2018. (Credit: Hong Kong Leisure and Cultural Services Department)

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Dionysus takes on the form of a butch lesbian gardener named Diane (Rami Margron). The goal is to bring the earth closer to its natural order. In order to get the other characters in the play to go along with this idea, Diane will have to use all of her seductive powers. In other words, to be rather like Dionysus.

Jesse Green of the New York Times called George’s play, “astonishing.”  George was a Pulitzer Prize finalist for her 2013 play, The (curious case of the) Watson Intelligence.

James Vásquez directs this production of Hurricane Diane. Joining Margron in the cast are Opal Alladin, Jenn Harris, Jennifer Paredes and Liz Wisan.

This looks like not just a very funny play, but also a thoughtful one, too. Perhaps just the kind of play the god of ritual madness and theater might love. Whether he/she goes by Bacchus, Dionysus or Diane.

Hurricane Diane runs 90 minutes and does not have an intermission. There is strong language in the play.

For tickets go here.

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Shaw is a composer, violinist, vocalist who became the youngest person to win the Pulitzer Prize for Music when she was awarded the prize for Partita for 8 Voices 2013. She has also collaborated with Kanye West which brought her to the Hollywood Bowl for the first time.

Which such acclaim it was inevitable that a slew of commissions would follow.

A journalist for The Guardian was mistaken when she quoted Shaw as saying she had some “18 or 19 pieces to write.” At the time the composer was talking about commissions for the 2018 and 2019 seasons. But when we spoke by phone about Observatory, she clarified her present workload.

“The things in my folder to come around to is around fifteen,” she says. “They all exist in different states. I’m usually not actively writing something for more than one piece at a time. I’ll be thinking a year or two ahead and laying the groundwork for the concept of the piece. Then I dive in in a concentrated period of time.”

Her decision-making process is pretty straightforward. “My biggest priority is to keep a well-balanced diet. I know that this year I wrote two pieces for orchestra. That’s not normally what I do, nor does it come as easily as writing for voices and string quartet. I will balance that out by not doing as much [large orchestra pieces] in the next couple of years.”

One of those pieces was Observatory. At the time of the commission she had no idea she would be opening for Beethoven’s 9th Symphony.

“I sort of feel like I already wrote my composition to go with Beethoven’s 9th with a piece for choir and brass which was meant to be paired with the 9th. I’m not sure if I had any guidelines except length which was 15-20 minutes. This clocks in at 18. I’ve never written for a full orchestra. No double winds. No extensive percussion. This one I grew it out a bit more.”

In the program notes Shaw references cosmologist Kendrick Smith who feels that knowing our place in the universe is important for us to learn. In spite of, or because of that reference, Shaw effortlessly avoids attaching any specific description or philosophy construct to her work - Observatory included.

“I don’t want to call this piece something that defines what it means to be in the universe. We like to sometimes assign narratives to things that maybe are ambiguous. My own bulls** meter goes off pretty quickly if I sense I’m saying something that isn’t exactly true. Sometimes that narrative can be spun out and solidified. The truth is writing music is a very strange thing to do and I think life is too short not to think on a very large cosmic scale.”

In those same notes she talks about science fiction storytelling as a source of inspiration.

“Science fiction is all about telling the largest stories through the smallest parts or vice-versa. That was part of the construction of this piece in its larger scale form and its small motives. Maybe this piece, more than others, has some allegorical elements, but I’m very wary of revealing them or talking about them because it can make them too direct. I’d rather leave it for someone to write their own story.”

Like any composer, sitting in an audience when your work has its first performance is an utterly nerve-wracking experience for Shaw, which is where she first hears the stories others have created.

“Being in the audience for a premiere is pretty harrowing. I’m excited and scared. The hardest part is when audience members don’t know you are the composer and they talk about how they feel. It’s flattering when they like it and uncomfortable when they don’t. There’s something in an interview that Stephen Sondheim said that ‘on the night of a premiere, don’t say anything bad to my face.’ It’s so rare to get honest criticism and feedback. I really cherish that and it’s hard to find.”

Given the title of her piece, we concluded our conversation by talking about something Henry Ward Beecher wrote in Life Thoughts. “The soul without imagination is what an observatory would be without a telescope.”

“That’s so beautiful,” she responds. “It makes me think when you are looking out and you are looking for something. You aren’t just looking for the dots in the sky or the data, you are looking at yourself. It’s the same kind of storytelling you tell about something else, but you are telling about yourself. Or sci-fi is talking about aliens, but is telling about the smallest details of human relationships.

“I like that quote. I don’t know if I agree or disagree with it. I believe very strongly in imagination. I think people are much more imaginative and creative than they think they are. As kids we are all making up stories and imagining things at the same time. At a certain point you start to believe that some people are creative and some people are not. I don’t think that’s true at all. I think you can develop a personal practice that celebrates one’s own imagination and I think that’s why I write music. It challenges me to keep working on that part of myself.”

For tickets for Tuesday night go here.

For tickets for Thursday night go here.

Photos by Kait Moreno/Courtesy of carolineshaw.com

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Sondheim and Lapine were inspired by the Georges Seurat painting, A Sunday on La Grande Jatte. What Sondheim noticed was that none of the people in the park in this painting were looking at each other. Not one person. So he and Lapine pondered what would have been going on in their minds that afternoon. And what was going on in the life and mind of Seurat himself.

Act One of this beautiful musical takes place as Georges (Marc Ginsburg) is trying to complete the painting while maintaining his relationship with his muse, Dot (Alyssa Simmons).

Act Two takes place 100 years later. Georges and Dot’s great-grandson, also named, George (Ginsburg), is an artist relying on technology for his work. It’s the debut of his “Chromolume #7” which celebrates the work of Seurat. Joining him for the debut is his 98-year-old grandmother, Marie (Simmons).

The musical is an incredible depiction of the life of artists, what it means to be an artist and it depicts the challenges of finding your voice – whether your are an artist or not.

Sunday in the Park with George first appeared on Broadway in 1984. There have been two revivals since then, including a terrific production that originated at the Menier Chocolate Factory in London. The most recent revival starred Jake Gyllenhaal and Annaleigh Ashford.

Amongst the songs found in Sunday are “Finishing the Hat,” “Move On,” “Children and Art” and “Color and Light.”

Thomas James O’Leary is directing the concert with musical direction by Doug Peck.

Sunday in the Park with George is an ambitious show and a one-night-only concert is equally ambitious. No doubt they are taking Sondheim’s advice by tackling this production, “bit by bit, putting it together.”

For tickets go here.

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In much the same way that Studs Terkel examined the lives of working men and women for Working, Nottage conducted countless interviews with the people of Reading, Pennsylvania – the setting for the play. Those interviews, combined with other research she did, formed the foundation of her play.

In awarding Nottage the Pulitzer Prize, the committee said of Sweat, “For a nuanced yet powerful drama that reminds audiences of the stacked deck still facing workers searching for the American dream.” The other two finalists were Taylor Mac‘s A 24-Decade History of Popular Music and Sarah DeLappe’s The Wolves.

Sweat played on Broadway at the Studio 54 Theatre after transferring from the Public Theatre and was nominated for three Tony Awards.

The Los Angeles production is directed by Lisa Peterson. The cast includes Kevin T. Carroll, Grantham Coleman, Will Hochman, John Earl Jelks, Mary Mara, Peter Mendoza, Michael O’Keeefe, Amy Pietz and Portia. Jelks was part of the original Broadway cast.

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