For all of the magic of holding a classical music festival on the street, every year I think the most special part of it for me is Sunday night after we’ve torn down the tents and stage, moved everything back inside, after the vendors have left, after every chair is taken off the street and there’s this incredible moment when we remove the blockades and traffic starts up again and it’s as if the fest never happened.

I don’t know what it is about that that gets me but it’s an incredible feeling. I stand there muscles aching from my arduous labors over the weekend and look at the cars going by with drivers totally oblivious to the fact that just hours ago the street was full of people and music was ringing out.  It’s like building your castle in the sand and taking great pride in it but also taking joy in watching the ocean wash it away.

That said I have many favorite moments of the actual festival itself including hearing Shostakovich’s e-minor trio performed while the sun was setting behind me, overhearing people rave about the music, watching the kids enjoying the WTTW Big Ideas Van performance and, not least, seeing this event that had existed in my head for so long come to life.

The smartest thing I did was hire Elliot Mandel to take photos.   Looking at these is now my favorite part of the fest and reminds me that it did indeed happen and it was indeed awesome.

Newcity’s Music 45 celebrates the musicians behind the scenes whose unseen sweat, blood and tears make the show happen.

It’s a thoughtful list and I was excited to make the cut again this year and to move up from #44 to #34.  Cue the Jefferson’s Theme  No, wait, don’t.

Not because it’s a bad song but because it’s an ear worm and I don’t want to walk around the rest of the day with it stuck in my head.

At any rate, check out the Newcity Music 45 Who Keep Chicago In Tune!

I was fascinated by this character the first time I saw this woodcut, the Galactic Drifter by Sanya Glisic. I was tasked with setting several of Sanya’s works to music by Amos Gillespie for a project called Paintings Composed and they’ll be playing this one at the Thirsty Ears Festival in a couple of days.

As I stared at the woodcut I pictured him dancing around space, teleporting to different worlds using the chronometer on his wrist and generally getting into mischief wherever he goes. Based on his footwear he may also have a passion for dancing.

I wanted to bring this idea across with a bluesy pizzicato part in the cello but I’m not really a fan of traditional blues and I have this compulsion to make everything more complex than perhaps it needs to be so it’s a bluesy cello pizz part that incorporates multiple pitch sets. But don’t worry, it’s still fun.

Then there’s a section where the flute, clarinet and cello play syncopated rhythms together and the saxophone comes in out of sync with them.  It’s my favorite part of the piece, although I like the lonely sax solo too.  Because of the sax solo and his aloofness in the syncopated part, the musicians thought that Amos was the Galactic Drifter but I promise I was thinking of no such thing.

Here’s the great recording from the original project some years back.  Best to listen to it while staring intently at the woodcut.

The highlight of summer for me is the Thirsty Ears Festival, Chicago’s only classical music street festival, now expanded to two days.

From Beethoven to Shostakovich to George Flynn, there’s something for everyone!

Or if you don’t like music you can just stand around drinking beer like most people at street festivals do.  We’ll have two great beer options for you from Chicago’s own Empirical Brewing.

Plus food trucks, vendor booths and family friendly activities all on a friendly, tree-lined street in idyllic Ravenswood.

I’m so very pleased that we have sponsors this year too.  We’ve received very generous support from PianoForte Chicago, Connect Hearing, Shure, WFMT and Hazel Chicago.

My first summer out of high school I decided that I should get some life experience before starting college and so I decided to move to the Lake of the Ozarks and go to work at a resort called the Lodge of the Four Seasons.

It was 1989 and I had some vague idea that it would be like Dirty Dancing and I’d meet some hot older ladies, spend a lot of time around a pool drinking exotic cocktails, I don’t know what else, maybe learn to dance?

Unfortunately it wasn’t like that at all.  They put me to work as a linen runner restocking cabinets with sheets and pillow cases and things and getting yelled at all day by scary chain smoking maids who kept asking me if I was an idiot or something.

Worse, a linen runner had no status, none whatsoever.  I wasn’t even allowed to enter the pool area, much less lounge by it whilst savoring a tropical cocktail.  All around me I saw people enjoying themselves and having a great time while I was stuck with a guy who, upon opening a linen cabinet and finding it empty would play air guitar and sing the words Bare to the Bone, apparently a reference to that idiotic George Thorogood song.

He would literally do this with every empty cabinet and, as our job was to fill the cabinets, they were all empty.  It was intolerable. I can’t remember his name now but the scariest day of all came as he was taking me around the Lodge in the little cart they let us drive and he told me that I would “make it” as a linen runner.  This was apparently a compliment.

I quit the next day and went to work at a tie dye shop and spent the rest of the summer tie dying socks while talking to my co-worker Leann about her obsession, Led Zeppelin.  She had just read Hammer of the Gods, a sensationalized, mostly fictional account of the band’s exploits on tour.

We would line up long rows of pristine, rubber-banded white socks and gently pour colored dyes on them, watching them soak in and blend while she talked about the crazy thing that the band did with a dead shark.  Summer ran out before she ran out of Led Zeppelin stories.

People will tell you that summer is running out now but don’t believe them!  We still have until September 21 dammit.

Originally published in Newcity 7/28/2017

“It’s true I didn’t come over on the Mayflower, but I came over as soon as I could,” said Anton Cermak in 1931, in response to xenophobic slurs made against him by the deeply entrenched, and deeply corrupt, Chicago mayor “Big Bill” Thompson. Threatened by Cermak’s political skill and alarmed by his growing support, Thompson resorted to a strategy of personal insults and dark hints that Cermak wasn’t “normal.”

This strategy has a familiar ring to it, of course; but Thompson’s xenophobic and alarmist tactics backfired wildly, and Cermak rode a wave of immigrant support into the mayor’s office. Unfortunately he was killed before he could finish out even his first term—shot in the lung at a political rally by a deranged gunman who was apparently aiming at FDR, with whom Cermak happened to be shaking hands at the worst possible moment.

Cermak’s sentiment that he came to America from what is now the Czech Republic “as soon as [he] could,” speaks powerfully to me. You see, I’m a sentimental sort, the kind of guy who gets all choked up thinking about the idea of America as a melting pot, as a place where diverse peoples from around the world can live together in peace.

And yeah, I read my history. I know that the country was founded on top of one of the world’s most appalling genocides. I know about the three-fifths compromise. I know that the idealism of the American dream in no way makes up for the many atrocities committed along the way.

But from the moment that humans first climbed out of the primordial ooze and sat blinking in the full glare of newly formed consciousness, we’ve devoted an appalling amount of time and energy to killing each other; so the idea that we would at least make the attempt to put our differences behind us and live in peace—well, it’s something I still believe in with every fiber of my being.

Cermak “came over as soon as [he] could” because America represented an irresistible beacon to the world. America was an escape from authoritarianism, persecution, hereditary government and power wielded by the few in service to the fewer. But when he came over he discovered what everyone who has come over since has discovered: the ones who got here first didn’t want him.

Cermak is mostly forgotten today, but his victory over “Big Bill” Thompson is still a major win for the little guy, and a powerful reminder that the American dream cannot be taken for granted, but must be fought for in every generation.

Interestingly, though, Cermak’s longest-lasting legacy is not political but musical. He started the Grant Park Music Festival to give hard-pressed Chicagoans much-needed relief during the ravages of the Great Depression, and the festival is still going strong today. Then as now, Chicagoans had the extraordinary opportunity to hear classical music performed by a world-class orchestra and chorus in the heart of the city, for free.  It was an audacious idea then, and more than eighty years later it still is—as well as an indispensable part of summer in Chicago for tens of thousands of people.

Grant Park was also, memorably, the scene for Barack Obama’s stirring reaffirmation of the American dream upon his election in 2008 and, eight years later, the site of his stunningly gracious, optimistic and inspiring farewell address, in which he managed to find hope even as the country faced an incoming president who made “Big Bill” Thompson look like Honest Abe. Obama’s dignity in the face of despair was an inspiration to the composer Aaron Jay Kernis.

“In the months following President Barack Obama’s farewell address in Chicago, I began to turn my thoughts to composing this new horn concerto, ‘Legacy,’ for the Grant Park Festival. The President’s inspiring summation of the last eight years of our history rests incongruously next to the daily turmoil that has taken hold since then,” says Kernis.

“A great deal has been written about the ideal of the former president’s legacy: a commitment to protect our air, water, health, children… which, since then is being torn down, many pieces at a time, every single day. As a creative artist, I think frequently about what I will be able to pass on to my family, and to our world, as I spend my life attempting to create works of beauty, healing, confrontation and ideas.”

“Legacy,” co-commissioned by the Grant Park Music Festival and given its world premiere this month, opens with allusions to “Amazing Grace” in the strings and horn, which eventually become a full-fledged theme-and-variations—leading the listener to inevitably recall Obama’s powerful, deeply moving response to a racially motivated shooting in a house of worship.

The French horn is the perfect vehicle for music with a noble ring that recalls the understated but firm resolve of the former president; and Kernis, throughout the piece, perfectly balances sentiment with solid compositional craft.

Our country is led at the moment by vicious people, a mafia-esque cabal that, far from serving a lofty ideal, exists only for personal enrichment and the entrenchment and perpetuation of their power: in other words exactly that against which America was founded in the first place. They are taking a sledgehammer to Obama’s legacy but they fail to understand that Obama’s true legacy is his belief in a humanistic ideal which cannot be destroyed.

Chicago’s Grant Park is central to the legacy of Obama, who in many ways exemplified the American dream and who provided as perfect a model of dignity, class and respect for all as I’m likely to see in my lifetime. Kernis’ piece is a moving musical portrait of that legacy and it’s fitting that it will be premiered at a music festival started by an immigrant who long ago left his country in pursuit of a dream that the majority of us still hold dear.

The Grant Park Orchestra performs Aaron Jay Kernis’ horn concerto, “Legacy,” on August 11 at 6:30pm and August 12 at 7:30pm, under the baton of Carlos Kalmar with Jonathan Boen as horn soloist.  More information can be found on their website.

I have to confess that, as the American people ready themselves for their annual pyromaniacal outpouring of frenzied joy at being liberated from the tyranny of a British king, I find myself yet again wishing there were another way to celebrate independence and our near-hysterical love of freedom than the traditional week-long (at least) fireworks displays and general blowing up of things.

I want to point out too that this isn’t just a sign that I’m finally losing the battle against the ever-encroaching crustiness brought on by old age, (although I am.)  No, truth is, I’ve never liked fireworks.  Even as a child I would stand at a fireworks display and count the minutes until we could go back home and I could get back to reading The Three Investigators and the Secret of Skeleton Island.

Yes, a nerdy kid to be sure and grown into a nerdy adult but I can’t be the only one who thinks that freedom from tyranny might best be celebrated with a visit to the library, museum or the cultural outing of one’s choice.  Or just a nice long nap in the A/C.

Fireworks, sadly, are by far the most popular means of celebrating independence days around the world, but after much digging I did find a few more sedate ideas that I’d like to bring to your attention.

Did you know for example that in India the symbol for independence is a kite and so they fly kites for their Independence Day?  Tell me that people spending the day serenely flying kites over a lake isn’t better than drunk people blowing off their own fingers.

In Indonesia they celebrate by attempting to shimmy up a greased palm tree. I’m not going to run out and do this but I would be fine if it took off here instead of fireworks.  In Cambodia they celebrate liberation from French rule by releasing thousands of brightly colored balloons into the sky.  Another win.

South Korea it seems has an odd tradition:  they celebrate their victory over Japan and subsequent independence by setting prisoners free which is kind of a literal interpretation but, hey, still better than fireworks if you ask me.

Every year though I’m reminded in no uncertain terms that I’m way out of the mainstream on this, so this year I’ll celebrate the holiday the way I always do: with earplugs, alcohol and a good book. Happy Fourth!

Summertime for me means long bike rides, outdoor drinking, walks to the ice cream shop, sitting in the park reading a book, and of course the country’s only outdoor free classical music festival, the Grant Park Music Fest.

I’m giving pre-concert talks for several fascinating concerts this summer so if you’re in town and coming out, stop by the big white tent just west of the stage an hour before the show to hear my stunning insights.

And this year I’m not just talking about contemporary music which is odd. I’ve been entrusted with talks on Mozart, Beethoven and other stalwarts from the dim past.  Wikipedia here I come!

The full schedule is here!

When I was a music student lo so many years ago, there were teachers who liked to tell us all the time how much better things were in Europe.  According to them people were more sophisticated, there was broad support for the arts and classical music was the background to daily life.

One professor, who shall remain nameless, even went so far as to suggest that people in Europe by and large preferred atonal music.  In retrospect this is a ludicrous claim but at the time it seemed plausible enough. What can I say?  Young men aren’t known for critical thinking and it was an attractive idea.

At any rate, you can imagine my surprise when some years later I began making trips to Europe and was hard pressed to find a cafe or store playing atonal music, or even classical. Everywhere I went, in every European country, they were playing pop music.

Now after much experience I can tell you that the situation in Europe vis-a-vis classical music is very similar to what it is here.  Some people like it, some don’t.  No one prefers atonal music.

I bring this up because I’m leaving for France in about two hours on a two-week trip with my wife Maria to celebrate both her 40th birthday and our 10th wedding anniversary and I’m really excited.  But I’m also aware of the irony of heading to Paris in the immediate aftermath of a certain presidential announcement yesterday.

We’ve always had a fraught relationship with Europe. During World War I there was so much anti-German sentiment that Americans were encouraged to refer to hamburgers as “liberty sandwiches” and of course you probably remember the whole “freedom fries” thing a decade or so ago.

But I’ve never seen anti-European sentiment hit the fever pitch that it’s at right now.  There are a lot of decisions being made on emotion alone – or in service to a political base devoid of the power of critical thinking and in service to an all-consuming, inarticulate rage – that will cause immense harm.  We may be confused, divided, angry and willing to lash out blindly, but Putin and others like him are not confused.

The weakening of NATO, the end of American influence on the world stage, the growing acceptance of authoritarianism and human rights abuses, a new alarmingly cavalier attitude toward the truth and the willingness to demonize whole ethnic groups or religions, all of this only helps spread the chaos that fascist leaders like Putin want.

I know that we’ll enjoy our vacation in France but I also know there will be a darker undercurrent to the trip as well and I know that every conversation we have will likely revolve around politics and that’s a shame.

Chaos comes out of order, there is no system that won’t break down on its own. But there’s also no reason to go around helping it out. I hope we can remember that Europe is our ally and a powerful and necessary one at that.

Even if they don’t actually prefer atonal music…

Originally published in Newcity Magazine 5/1/2017

Constellation celebrated its fourth anniversary last month without quite as much fanfare as was perhaps appropriate for one of the city’s most adventurous music venues. Begun by jazz composer, drummer and arts entrepreneur Mike Reed, Constellation is dedicated to programming forward-looking jazz, free jazz and contemporary classical music, and the Sunday night Frequency Series is not only the city’s only weekly contemporary classical music series but one of the few such weekly series in the country.

Peter Margasak, who has written articulately about music for the Chicago Reader for more years than most of us can remember, is the director of the Frequency Series and he had an ambitious goal for it: “When I started the series the primary idea was to provide a consistent platform for Chicago new music groups, since it seemed to me most of them struggled to find good places to perform. I also wanted to generate a kind of critical mass. There were and remain so many interesting ensembles in Chicago, and in general they’re ignored by the local media. I wanted people to know that they could go hear an interesting group on any given Sunday.”

The timing for the Frequency Series couldn’t have been better, as Chicago has seen a growth spurt in contemporary music ensembles over the last decade or so—and, yes, venues are always a challenge; but not the only one. There’s a reason that contemporary classical music ensembles are ignored, and there’s a reason for the very fact that they have to exist in the first place.

As anyone who has ever stood outside of Symphony Hall and looked up at the names of a select few composers literally carved into the stone can tell you, classical music isn’t exactly a welcoming art form for living creators. The truth is, if you’re a living composer, classical music institutions don’t particularly want you.

The reasons for this are complex, but in a nutshell it’s because music gradually grew more complex harmonically until, by the time of Wagner, tonality itself became a tenuous prospect. If you’re writing a five-hour opera about the death of the gods, after all, you’re going to need a large orchestra, a lot of pointy hats and spears and you’re going to need a sound a bit more otherworldly than, say, C Major.

Most people’s takeaway from Wagner is that operas last a long time, Norse mythology is dark and that the “Ride of the Valkyries” is the perfect music for strafing innocent civilians with machine-gun fire from a helicopter. But, in the early twentieth century, many other composers had a different takeaway. They decided that it was time to push tonality over the cliff and make atonal music the music of the future and, in a somewhat unlikely twist, this idea was very popular with the music establishment at the time. So popular, in fact, that for several decades composers felt that anyone who wasn’t writing atonal music was a reprobate.

Meanwhile the rest of the world decided that classical music had gone insane and moved on. There was big band music, swing and jazz and then Elvis Presley and rock, and it was just so much more fun. Classical music institutions responded by doubling down on the classics and ignoring modern composers, and so ensembles that specialized in contemporary music were born.

Of course not everyone was writing atonal music, and there were two fascinating responses to the “tonal crisis” as it was known: jazz and minimalism. Jazz composers rejected atonal music in favor of chord progression patterns that could be repeated in any key and improvisation that allowed you to stay within the lines of the song form, or not. Minimalism, pioneered by La Monte Young, Terry Riley, Steve Reich and Philip Glass, favored highly tonal musical cells that were played in rhythmic repetition patterns that changed very gradually over time.

I give you this brief and woefully incomplete history of twentieth-century music because it helps to provide context around why a venue like Constellation, that gives contemporary performers and composers a place to practice their art, is so important—but also because, to me at least, these swirling waters of atonality, minimalist repetition and jazz harmonies found a fascinating synthesis in the music of Chicago-born composer Joseph Schwantner. To listen to his music is to hear the propulsive rhythms of minimalism combined with seventh-based jazz harmonies in a complex tonal structure that very few composers could have pulled off.

“[It’s] like looking through a crystal prism with rainbows of light piercing the air around it,” says flutist Jennie Oh Brown. “Schwantner’s music has an energy and a vitality that is amazing to hear and play.” Brown released an album of Schwantner’s music last year and is producing and performing a concert of his chamber music at Constellation this month. She first met Schwantner when she was a student at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester where he was on faculty.

“Upon graduating, I followed his career with great interest,” she says. “I eagerly purchased every piece for flute that Joe published, and happily brought these to the stage and into my teaching studio. Many years ago Joe even met with one of my student flute quartets to give them a coaching on his piece ‘Silver Halo.’ I remain incredibly grateful for his generosity of time and spirit, which has continued from my student days through to the present. Additionally, it was exciting for me to have this rather significant body of flute music that was created by such an illustrious and highly respected American composer. Joseph Schwantner is simply at the pinnacle of the field.”

The concert features Brown and an all-star cast of musicians performing the virtuosic “Silver Halo” for flute ensemble, “Black Anemones,” a transcription for flute and piano of a song inspired by a fascinating poem by Agueda Pizarro, the vibrant “Taking Charge” for flute, percussion and piano and “Looking Back,” an appropriately titled piece that makes musical reference to several earlier works including two from this program.

Music changed more in the twentieth century than in the last four centuries combined. It was a fascinating, dizzying time and it was a time in which composers often took sides against each other. How refreshing then to find a composer like Schwantner who instead drew from everything and made it his own, and how wonderful to have a supportive venue in Constellation. Here’s hoping for many more years.

Frequency Series presents Jennie Oh Brown playing Joseph Schwantner on May 21, 8:30pm, at Constellation, 3111 North Western. $5-$15, 18+.