Tag Archives: correspondence

Still’s Innovations and Contradictions

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William Grant Still is widely recognized as the first African American composer to conduct a professional symphony orchestra in the United States, and for his work Symphony No. 1, “Afro-American” (1930)1. As we’ve discussed in this course, understanding musicians’ journeys often involves tracing back through their experiences and influences to see what shaped them musically. I was first introduced to Still’s work in high school through Danzas de Panama, which sparked an interest that led me into the archives. There, I discovered the correspondence between Still and music critic/pianist Irving Schwerke, offering a glimpse into his planning and creative process2.

Below is a letter from Still to Schwerke, written in 19313. 

July 29, 1931.
William Grant Still to Irving Schwerké

Just a few months before this letter, Still had written to Schwerké with specific requests for an upcoming performance of Africa, detailing instructions like executing fingernail pizzicato on the piano and using certain mutes for the brass instruments. Their correspondence went back and forth, especially concerning the availability of these particular mutes. While these details may seem minor, they are crucial in recognizing how rare it was at that time for composers of color to receive such performance opportunities. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAZByrG1dE0

In exploring more about Still’s exchanges with Schwerké, I came across a class blog post from 2019 by Siri Mellem, which highlights how composers’ statements and experiences, particularly looking at those of Still, are often complex and layered4. As the first African American composer to have works performed, an opera produced by a major American company, and even televised, Still’s achievements as a person of color were highly significant. I could see what Mellem meant by complex when reading the letter above, and reading: “I agree with you as to the origin of American Music. As I see it, the music of the American Negro has resulted from the union of the religious songs you mentioned and the primitive songs of Africa.”  The idea of the melting pot is present here, though it makes me wonder how much thought Still must have put to the idea of American music and how his identity as one of the first prominent conductors of color may have influenced this view.

I was also reminded of the challenges Still faced as an artist of color while working with large networks and companies. For instance, when Deep River moved to NBC, he was not allowed to conduct because network policy prohibited Black conductors from leading predominantly white orchestras. However, when the program eventually moved to CBS, Still was given the opportunity to conduct. He later recalled, “There were many surprised faces as I mounted the podium, but at the end of the rehearsal, we were friends5.” This experience illustrates both the barriers he encountered and his skillful navigation of them.

This aspect of Still’s approach to his career, his careful wording and strategic positioning, seems similar to the approach of Eileen Southern, who also balanced careful self-presentation to fit within the established system. Both exemplify how artists of color have historically had to make thoughtful choices in how they communicate and operate within predominantly white institutions to have their voices heard and their contributions recognized.

1 Thomas, Mike. “Decades after his death, William Grant Still receives his moment in the sun,” Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Jan 4, 2019, https://cso.org/experience/article/2899/decades-after-his-death-william-grant-still-r#:~:text=Still%2C%20the%20first%20African%20American,in%20late%2018th%2Dcentury%20Haiti.

2 Mellem, Siri. “The Complex Contradictions of William Grant Still.” Music 345: Race, Identity, and Representation in American Music (blog). WordPress. Oct 24, 2019. https://pages.stolaf.edu/americanmusic/2019/10/24/the-complex-contradictions-of-william-grant-still/

3 Still, William Grant. Letter to Irving Schwerké. “The Bad Homburg Festival of American Music ,” July 29, 1931. https://publishing.cdlib.org/ucpressebooks/view?docId=ft1h4nb0g0&chunk.id=d0e8217&toc.depth=1&toc.id=d0e7410&brand=ucpress.

4 William Grant Still and Judith Anne Still, My Life, My Words: The Autobiography of William Grant Still, American Master Composer (Flagstaff, AZ: The Master-Player Library, 2011).

5 William Grant Still and Judith Anne Still, My Life, My Words: The Autobiography of William Grant Still, American Master Composer (Flagstaff, AZ: The Master-Player Library, 2011), 213.

Dvorak’s Correspondence and What They Say About Him

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The book Dvorak and His World by Michael Beckerman includes a chapter completely dedicated to correspondence received by Dvorak during his time in America.1 These letters are supposedly not published anywhere else and have never been seen before this book. There are a wide range of letters from pleasant greetings to desperate pleas, all of which demonstrate the kind of impact Dvorak had in the American community and the world as a whole.

Letter to Dvorak regarding Requiem premiere.2

These first few letters were received by Dvorak just before and after his Requiem was first performed in Boston. The second letter is from someone giving thanks to Dvorak on behalf of the Boston government. He states that the opportunity for Bostonians to hear a premiere Dvorak’s work directed by Dvorak himself and with the ability to meet Dvorak is not something easily forgotten. He concludes his letter by stating that it is difficult to find words to describe the beauty of his work and that  “Boston is fortunate in receiving its first impression of the great work at the hand of its great composer.”3 He continues in hoping that Dvorak’s “stay in America may be as pleasant to yourself as it will surely be profitable to the country, and that Boston may have many more occasions of renewing an acquaintance so delightfully begun.”4 This letter demonstrates how much of a impact Dvorak had on the places he traveled. The language in this letter allows us to understand that the people of Boston greatly valued Dvorak’s visit and premiere, and it had a vast impact on Boston and its people.

Letters to Dvorak requesting his help.4

The second section of this chapter includes letters to Dvorak from parts of the world Dvorak was not near at the time. It is unclear whether or not Dvorak ever responded, but these letters show that Dvorak had a great impact on other parts of the world and that many people were languishing for his attention. The first letter comes from a remote location in California close to the Mexican boarder “remote and isolated that perhaps the place has never been brought to [Dvorak’s] notice.”5 They have a prosperous music society intensely studying the works of Dvorak and often come across numerous problems with obtaining copies of his scores due to their location. That being said, they have “great enthusiasm and reverence for the Master who is doing so much for the development of music in America” and they would just like to ask “Dr. Dvorak to send [them] a few words of encouragement and advice.”6 This cute interaction is one way of showing how impactful Dvorak was even on the smallest and most remote communities all so desperately wanting to learn and study Dvorak’s music.

Bibliography

Beckerman, Michael, ed. Dvorák and His World. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993. Accessed November 1, 2023. ProQuest Ebook Central.

Footnotes

1Michael Beckerman, ed. Dvorák and His World. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993. Accessed November 1, 2023. ProQuest Ebook Central.

2Ibid.

3Ibid.

4Ibid.

5Ibid.

6Ibid.

Cultural Exchange between Chávez and Copland

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Aaron Copland and Carlos Chávez met in New York in 1926, both young and only at the beginning of their long and influential careers.1 They became close friend, and although much of their relationship was long distance, they maintained a strong connection, “mentally and spiritually and musically.”2 The long lasting bond between the composers can be partially attested to their natural fondness for each other and additionally to the similarities between them. 

Aaron Copland and Carlos Chávez3

Born a year apart, they both began musical study on piano before pursuing composition and harmony lessons in their teens.4 Additionally, both studied in Europe in the 1920s, where they were exposed to the latest innovations in art music.5 Over the course of their careers, the two seemed to develop a similar approach to modern composition in relationship to national identity. They both found the use of folk music as an effective way to create a distinctive “New World” sound.6 Many of Copland’s most beloved works, such as El Salón México and Short Symphony quote or incorporate the sounds of Mexico that he encountered on his many trips to visit Chávez. Similarly, Chávez’s works were celebrated by Mexican musicians for establishing a modernist, Mexican sound with use of Mexican folk music.7

8

Copland admired Chávez’s non-European sound and “complete overthrow of nineteenth-century ideals.”9 Similarly, Chávez deemed Copland’s works as, “genuinely American,” and “the music of our time.”10 Their mutual respect for each other helped facilitate a cultural exchange of a new musical sound. Both Copland and Chávez introduced, programmed, and conducted the works of the other in their respective geographical locations.11 The quintessential American sound of the 20th century must be not only attributed to Aaron Copland, but Carlos Chávez and the close relationship between them.

 

1 POLLACK, HOWARD. “Aaron Copland, Carlos Chávez, and Silvestre Revueltas.” In Carlos Chavez and His World, edited by LEONORA SAAVEDRA, 99–110. Princeton University Press, 2015. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1cg4n5s.11. 

2 Copland, Aaron, Elizabeth B Crist, and Wayne Shirley. The Selected Correspondence of Aaron Copland. 1st ed. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006.

3 Copland, Aaron. Aaron Copland and Carlos Chávez. , . [Date of production not identified] Photograph. https://www.loc.gov/item/2023781702/.

4 Parker, Robert L. “Copland and Chávez: Brothers-in-Arms.” American Music 5, no. 4 (1987): 433–44. https://doi.org/10.2307/3051451. 

5 Ibid.

6 Murchison, Gayle. “‘Folk’ Music and the Popular Front: El Salón México.” In The American Stravinsky: The Style and Aesthetics of Copland’s New American Music, the Early Works, 1921-1938, 190–207. University of Michigan Press, 2012. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv3znzqf.15. 

7 MIRANDA, RICARDO. “‘The Heartbeat of an Intense Life’: Mexican Music and Carlos Chávez’s Orquesta Sinfónica de México, 1928–1948.” In Carlos Chavez and His World, edited by LEONORA SAAVEDRA, 46–61. Princeton University Press, 2015. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1cg4n5s.8.

8 “El Salón México.” Spotify, January 1, 1960. https://open.spotify.com/track/6nrYxPub6J1Buu7ScnRk7u?si=e27ee74bd90a4820.

9 Ibid.

10 Ibid.

11 Ibid.

A short foray

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Over the course of these blog posts, my classmates and I have discussed an enormous range of subjects and, for the most part, usually tried to connect them back to race and identity in American music – the topic of the course. However, this week, I have decided to stray from said topic into something a little lighter: A composer renowned for his ideas about tonality that were later lauded as incredibly forward-thinking and were vital in forging an American modernist identity. A man whose music was written almost entirely for himself and close friends and then (figuratively) left in his desk for future musicians to discover. A figure who thought that classical music as he knew it was overly refined, feminine, and therefore emasculated. If you hadn’t figured it out already, today I will be talking about none other than Charles Ives. More specifically, I will be talking about Charles Ives’s correspondence1 with his fiance and eventual wife, Harmony Twitchell.

Charles Ives and Harmony Twitchell

I miss you all the time & feel how rich I was when I had you last week – to hear your voice & put my hand & feel you – never mind. I have your love and that is everything after all – I was quite wrong when I said that it was a year ago that I knew I loved you[.] It’s been all the time just the same but I never said it right out to myself until a year ago & gloried & rejoiced in it…

 

Harmony

How endearing! It can be so easy to forget the humanity of historic figures, (and modern day ones as well) but the act of reading someone’s correspondence with a loved one is one of the easiest ways to avoid such selective amnesia. In the blink of an eye, Ives goes from being a one-dimensional curmudgeon, to something a little more complex, a little more human. And that makes all the difference.

1 Ives, Owens, and Owens, Thomas Clarke. Selected Correspondence of Charles Ives. Roth Family Foundation Music in America Imprint. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007.

Dvořák in Spillville

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While not American in nationality, Antonín Dvořák represented much of what American music was about. Specifically, he saw the value of early African-American and Native American music as rich sources to establish an American national identity. Dvořák spent time in America from 1892 to 1895 as the director of the National Conservatory of Music in New York. During this time, many Americans wrote letters to Dvořák.

Of interest to me are two correspondences to Dvořák from Jan Josef Kovařík, the father of Dvořák’s secretary. Kovařík lived in Spillville, Iowa, where Dvořák spent some time in the summer of 1893. Both letters mention not his music, but instead offer a look into how Dvořák was treated by people of the towns he visited. The first letter was sent in May of 1893 before Dvořák’s arrival. In it, Dvořák is treated very cordially, and welcome with open arms.

“I would find you a cook; furnishings such as beds, pillows and blankets and bedsheets, all that we would have ready for you.”

Clearly, Kovařík saw value in having Dvořák visit Spillville, and wanted to ensure a pleasant stay. This one instance shows that Dvořák was not viewed as an imposter or someone swooping down to bring up a “lesser” culture. He was merely a visitor to a small town, and his host treated him with kindness and a certain level of familiarity.

The second letter was sent in December of 1894, well over a year after Dvořák had left Spillville. Kovařík seems to lament the fact the no one writes to him. He opens the letter by stating that “In vain I have been waiting to hear from you.” Despite not receiving responses from Dvořák, Kovařík continues in a friendly tone. He discusses the town’s going-ons as in a normal conversation.

“Your old friends Kumpal, Bily, Krnecek, Grandfather are all still alive—every day they trek to the little church to worship and then to gossip a little on the way back.”

Again, neither of these letters mention Dvořák’s music. However I think they still provide a valuable insight into how Dvořák was viewed as a person both before and after meeting someone. It seems that he left a positive mark on Spillville, and was gracious with his time while he was there. That speaks well to the music he might have gathered from the community there, as well as to his intentions in other areas of America.

Bibliography

Klaus Döge. “Dvořák, Antonín.” Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed November 6, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/51222.

“Letters from Dvořák’s American Period: A Selection of Unpublished Correspondence Received by Dvořák in the United States.” In Dvorak and His World, edited by Beckerman Michael, 192-210. Princeton University Press, 1993. 

Copland’s El Salón México

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This letter from Leonard Bernstein was sent to Aaron Copland in October of 1938. The letter was written in response to Copland’s El Salón México.

It is important to note the effect that Copland’s piece had on Bernstein and how it reflects views of music during the time. One of the first things that Bernstein mentions is how Copland’s music got stuck in his head. He is also able to easily notate the opening theme of El Salón México. This goes to show that Copland accomplished music writing that was simple enough to be remembered, and he incorporated themes that would recognizable.

Bernstein acknowledges that he admires Copland’s work and calls him a “master in America.” Copland’s simplified style of this time period is well-known as Copland’s own sound as well as an American sound. Copland was working to move contemporary composition from appealing to a select few towards appealing to the masses. It seems that Copland accomplished this with the success of El Salón México and other works. In fact, Elizabeth B. Crist argues that Copland’s El Salón México was able to project political ideologies onto the concert public.

Crist acknowledges that, the ideological dimensions of Copland’s works have been generally lost within the music’s enduring success, obscured by the legacy of anticommunist historiography and its formalist reification of art.” Bernstein focuses on Copland’s technique and the “solid sureness of that construction.” This makes me wonder more about Copland’s other non-musical intentions.

A recording of Leonard Bernstein conducting Copland’s El Salón México:

Sources

Crawford, Richard. America’s Musical Life. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2001.

Crist, Elizabeth B. “Aaron Copland and the Popular Front.” Journal of the American Musicological Society 56, no. 2 (Summer 2003): 409–465.

Pollack, Howard. “Copland, Aaron.” Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed November 7, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/06422.

Simeone, Nigel, ed. The Leonard Bernstein Letters. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2013.

Yaddo Festival Brings Music of Copland and Ives Together

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During the 1930s, amidst the Great Depression and the American modernist movement, works by two of the most well-recognized American composers were performed in the same place in the same weekend. The First Festival of Contemporary American Music, held at the Yaddo estate in Saratoga Springs, NY featured a weekend of music programmed largely by Aaron Copland. Included in the Sunday afternoon concert were seven pieces from Charles Ives’ “114 Songs.”1

In this letter included in The Selected Correspondence of Aaron Copland, Copland writes to Ives to gain approval to perform these works as part of the festival and to obtain scores to begin work. Although Copland does not overtly mention why he has chosen to include Ives’ pieces in the festival, the editors propose that Copland included Ives’ pieces to provide historical background for the more contemporary pieces on the program.2

Ives’ art songs performed at Yaddo, a few of which are included here, marked a turning point in his reception among critics. Critic Paul Rosenfield wrote of sensing “the presence of a first-rate composer of Lieder in the ranks of American Music.”3 The festival, while giving voice to numerous contemporary composers of the time, also served as a chance for Copland to moderate a forum between critics and young composers, greatly benefiting the reputation of Ives’ compositions while simultaneously making Copland out to be exceedingly disapproving of the way journalists impacted contemporary music.4

Although Copland’s preferences for simple, easy-to-understand music which we discussed in class last week seemed in conflict with Ives’ ultra-modernist “push-the-envelope” styles, it’s enlightening to see that parts of both composers came together successfully in the Yaddo Festival. While there are many things that set these composers apart, it still is important to note that they were able to appreciate one another for the contributions they were making in a period of economic turmoil and financial hardship for a majority of the United States.

Why Nadia Boulanger is Kind of Like Master Yoda

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You know that scene in Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Episode V when Luke Skywalker visits Dagobah to learn from the great Master Yoda? And there’s an awesome training sequence where Luke learns all this awesome stuff about the Force and raises his ship from the swamp. Now imagine that Dagobah is 20th century Paris. And Master Yoda is Nadia Boulanger. And George Gershwin is Luke Skywalker.

Okay, so maybe Star Wars and Les Annes Folles Paris are two very different thigns, but the concept is the same. In June of 1928 George Gershwin went full Luke Skywalker and sent Nadia Boulanger this letter:

Letter from Gershwin to Boulanger

The text of this letter reads;

Dear Mademoiselle,

I am in Paris for a short visit and would like very much to meet you again. I believe we met when I was here two years ago, through the Kochanskis. I have a letter to you from Maurice Ravel.

Please be so good as to telephone me at the Hotel Majestic or write me a note letting me know when and where we could meet. With all good wishes I am,

Most sincerely, George Gershwin

When they met, Gershwin requested that Boulanger instruct him in composition. Boulanger (unlike Master Yoda) declined. She told Gershwin that she couldn’t give him anything he didn’t already have. When one takes into consideration Gerswin’s musical styles,this letter and Boulanger’s refusal to teach Gershwin represent a unique perspective on developing American musical identity. While Gershwin’s contemporaries were building on European idioms and attemping to legitimize American identity thorugh the adoption and adaptation of American Folk idioms. Gershwin, one could argue, was also doing this, but instead of Anglo Folk idioms, relied on Jazz. His brand of symphonic jazz, already popular in 1928, has a unique sound. I posit that Boulanger’s recognition of this unique sound represents the changing perceptions of American music on the European continent. Boulanger recognized that jazz was one of the most unique idioms to come out of American music. Her approval of Gershwin’s symphonic jazz mirrors the world’s tacit approval of the appropriation of jazz in a symphonic sense. While white American elites, and (as evidenced by this letter) white European elites applauded the “raising up” of jazz idioms, composers and performers of color were struggling to gain a tenth of recognition composers like Gershwin were able to achieve. This notion reveals that the source material from which Gershwin drew was stil considered by many, even those in Europe, to exist outside of Art Music as an exotic “other”. Perhaps Boulanger’s refusal to teach Gershwin and mold his composition to her “refined” (read white westernized) musical ideals, as she did Copland, Glass, and others, helped American music to continue its unabashed appropriation of musical idioms from marginalized people. Perhaps this is the true identity American music.

More on Boulanger

Nadia Boulanger is practically the undisputed master teacher of the 20th century. From Copland to Bernstein, her mark on American music is distinct and far reaching.

Boulanger

Boulanger was born on the 16th of September in 1887. She officially began studying composition at the Paris Conservatoire at the age of 9 working with masters of composition like Gabriel Fauré. Boulanger herself was a gifted composer, but nearly stopped composing completely after the devastating death of her sister, Lili, in 1920. While this personal tragedy blighted a promising compositional career, it opened the doors for her teaching to come through.

While you finish reading this post about Boulanger’s influence on American composers, listen to some of her compositions in this playlist.

Please take a minute to learn more about Nadia Boulanger here. As a teacher, composer, and scholar, Nadia Boualanger had an immense effect on our modern perceptions of American Music and deserves to be considered as a major facet of American Musical style along with her many pupils.

Sources

Spycket, Jérôme. Nadia Boulanger. Stuyvesant, N.Y.: Pendragon Press, 1992.

Potter, Caroline. “Boulanger, Nadia.” Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press. Web. 15 Jun. 2017. <http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/03705>.

Portrait of Nadia Boulanger from https://blog.edmodo.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/NadiaBoulanger_portrait.jpg.

Portrait of Yoda from https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/d/d6/Yoda_SWSB.png/revision/latest?cb=20150206140125

Copland and Bernstein: two friends with diverging viewpoints on ‘American music’

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Copland and Bernstein working together

It is no secret that Leonard Bernstein and Aaron Copland were great friends. Even though I had heard this going into my research, I had no idea to what extent the level of mutual investment and encouragement was! I was astounded and quite honestly touched to find the amount of loving correspondence that I did between the two composers. While there are extensive works devoted to both of their respective correspondences, I was particularly interested in a letter written by Copland to Bernstein that addresses their different viewpoints on American music.

In this letter, written December 7, 1938, Copland writes Bernstein with advice on Bernstein’s senior thesis at Harvard, which explores nationalism in American composition. His thesis, completed in 1939, is entitled “The Absorption of Race Elements into American Music,” in which he proposes a new American nationalism — one that is defined by the way in which the composer blends their own heritage with “Negro” and “New England” musical traditions, as these form the “sociological backbone of the country.”1

1938 correspondence from Copland to Bernstein

In all of the correspondence I’ve read between the two, Copland shows his affection for Bernstein while also giving “grandfatherly advice,” as he calls it in this particular letter. His advice regarding Bernstein’s thesis in the letter at hand is as follows:

Don’t make the mistake of thinking that just because a Gilbert used Negro material, there was therefore nothing American about it. There’s always a chance it might have an ‘American’ quality despite its material.

This comment made me curious — what was Bernstein’s assertion about Gilbert, and who was this Gilbert anyway?

It turns out Henry F. Gilbert (1868-1928) was a composition student of Mcdowell’s, and was particularly interested in African-American music. Bernstein cites Gilbert’s Comedy Overture on Negro Themes and The Dance in the Place Congo in his thesis to make claims about American music. He asserts that these pieces contribute to the nationalistic process beginning in 1900, a process inspired by Dvorak’s New World Symphony, by engaging in artificial representation where “new indigenous materials were merely imposed upon an otherwise neutral kind of musical scheme.” Bernstein writes that despite Gilbert being a “sensitive and sound musician,” the way in which he incorporates ‘Negro’ material in his works is not American. 1
Here is a recording of Gilbert’s Comedy Overture on Negro Themes:

He complicates the definition of American music further when he categorizes the slow and lyrical sections of  the Comedy Overture on Negro Themes as European. He even writes that “There is no consequential development emerging inevitably from the thematic ideas themselves; there is no basic American “feeling.””1
So he is in fact defining American music by its sound, which leaves me rather confused. Copland rather encourages him to look beyond the material, demonstrating that Copland has a much broader view of American music. He remarks that:

Composing in this country is still pretty young no matter how you look at it.

Copland has open arms when it comes to American compositions — an attitude which Bernstein does not share at this point in his life.

Note: The two were 18 years apart but died just 2 months apart — Bernstein at 72 and Copland at 90.

Sources

  1. Bernstein, Findings. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1982.
  2. Copland, Aaron. Aaron Copland to Leonard Bernstein, December 7, 1938. In The Selected Correspondence of Aaron Copland, edited by Elizabeth B Crist and Wayne Shirley. New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2006.

A Copland in Paris finds American sound

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I grew up on a farm. I have a recognizable Minnesota accent. I only call it “duck duck grey duck.”

These are not things I would have described as distinctive about myself as I was growing up. This is because I was surrounded by it. I felt no need to assert it as part of my identity – everyone around me also possessed these factors of identity. However, when I came to St. Olaf, a school where I am often surrounded by students from Oregon, New Jersey, Texas, and even other countries, my friends and peers informed me just how identifying these things about me are. I went to a place where I was no longer surrounded by people from my same background, and people pointed out things about me that made me distinctive to them. That made me all the more aware of my identity.

Similarly, in post-WWI America, Copland found himself studying in a new place entirely surrounded by something different: Paris. He grew up in New York at the turn of the century, the son of Russian immigrants, and he was thoroughly surrounded by the American soundscape. When he arrived in Paris, excited and determined to learn and make a living, he began working with Nadia Boulanger, respected and revered composer at the time.

Image result for Aaron Copland nadia boulanger

Unlike Virgil Thomson, who pursued American music sound after being rejected from the Parisian music scene (saying it would be better to try and cultivate American sound than try to even break into the European scene), Copland turned to the American sound at the strong encouragement of his teacher, Nadia Boulanger.

One of the other students working in this class, Brandon Cash, also posted on this topic in 2015. Cash successfully outlines the strong relationship between Boulanger and Copland, especially highlighting the doors she opened for him in meeting other composers.

Compositionally, too, Boulanger’s abstract approach to jazz, which removed it from its cultural context and saw it as a purely compositional force, carried on into Copland’s work.

Image result for Aaron Copland nadia boulanger

Source: Library of Congress

However, it is important to understand her importance in Copland’s development not as a middle woman between him and Stravinsky, for example, but as a valuable contributor in her own right. She encouraged him to define his American sound – otherwise he would crash and burn. Her blunt, heavily honest advice drove him to really define what he was trying to achieve in creating “American” music. Most importantly, she helped him realize that he had a unique identity in being American and having American sound, so he needed to focus and cultivate that. Like me, he didn’t realize he had certain distinctive aspects of his identity until he was in an entirely different place and someone else told him.

It is ironic that the vessel through which he found his American sound is in a Western European country. However, this is not surprising, given that the outside view of American music can give valuable insight just as the view from within. Boulanger did, indeed, encourage him to listen to other composers’ works, and after he heard Milhaud, Stravinsky, Ravel, and Debussy dabble in Jazz, he incorporated it into several of his works. These include Rondino, Symphony for Organ and Orchestra, Music for the Theater, Dance Symphony, and Piano Concerto.

Below, these letters show Copland’s excitement at being in Paris and finding success and his correspondence with Nadia Boulanger.

Letter from Nadia Boulanger to Aaron Copland

Letter from Copland to Boulanger

Letter from Copland to his parents detailing his excitement at selling his first two compositions in Paris

Carole Jean Harris, “The French connection: The neoclassical influence of Stravinsky, through Boulanger, on the music of Copland, Talma and Piston.” State University of New York at Buffalo, ProQuest Dissertations Publishing, 2002.

Annegret Fauser, “Aaron Copland, Nadia Boulanger, and the Making of an “American” Composer.” The Musical Quarterly, Volume 89, Issue 4, 1 December 2006, Pages 524–554.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Charles E. Ives: Memos

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When I was searching for Charles Ives correspondence in our music library, I came across a book called Charles E. Ives: Memos.  It is a collection, constructed by John Kirkpatrick from Yale University, of previously unpublished loose leaf writings of Charles Ives.  Some were initially handwritten by Ives himself, while others were written in shorthand by his secretary, Miss Florence Martin, and edited by him later.  After his death in 1954, these loose leafs were collated and organized by when they were written, and ultimately published in this book.  As with any correspondence collection, it does not include every single “memo” Ives ever wrote; it is believed this collection includes approximately three-fifths of his loose leaf writing.

The book is in three main parts: “Pretext,” “Scrapbook,” and “Memories.”  While it looks as if each section is written in prose, that may not necessarily be the case.  Kirkpatrick took the time to mark each piece, sometimes a paragraph or a few sentences, with identifying information revealing where those words came from.  “Pretext” focuses on Ives’ aims, his views on music, critics, and criticism.  “Scrapbook” reveals the composer’s notes on his own music.  “Memories” provides the reader with biographical and autobiographical information.

Below, I have included the pages from “Scrapbook” of Ives’ Second Piano Sonata, since we are studying this piece in class (number 30).  Ives provides insight as to how each of the four movements came to fruition.  He reveals that he never really came up with an ending for the first movement, “Emerson,” or developed one way to play it.  For the second movement, “Hawthorne,” Ives describes the cluster chords on page 25 of the score, how to play them and what effect they are supposed to have on the listener.  In his words about the third, “The Alcotts,” and fourth movements, “Thoreau,” Ives reveals that he had intentions of expanding his orchestration to include organ, strings, woodwinds, etc.  Some of the material from the fourth movement came directly out of a string quartet Ives had been working on but never finished.

Ives - Memos pgs 78-79

Kirkpatrick, J., ed. Charles E. Ives: Memos. New York: W. W. Norton &, 1972. 78-79.

Ives - Memos pgs 80-81

Kirkpatrick, J., ed. Charles E. Ives: Memos. New York: W. W. Norton &, 1972. 80-81.

Ives - Memos pgs 82-83

Kirkpatrick, J., ed. Charles E. Ives: Memos. New York: W. W. Norton &, 1972. 82-83.

 

These notes by the composer about his or her own pieces are eye opening, especially to the performer.  They are very insightful and allow the performer to get into the mindset of the composer, and learn more about exactly what the composer meant when he or she wrote the piece.

 

Kirkpatrick, J., ed. Charles E. Ives: Memos. New York: W. W. Norton &, 1972.

Copland – Paris, France in 1921 – His Early Victories

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In June of 1921, Aaron Copland sailed to Paris, France to study music composition at the Palais de Fontainebleau. He gained much knowledge and experience with the help of his instructors Paul Vidal and Nadia Boulanger, as well as meeting new comrades like Harold Clurman. These individuals were formative in the early stages of Copland’s composing career and thus left an immense impact on his life and music. During his time in Paris, Copland had a great correspondence with his parents back in the United States.

 Copland in early 1920s

 

One particularly amazing written account of Copland’s early success in Paris is in a letter he wrote to his parents. Merely three months into his stay in Paris, Copland had an opportunity that excited him more than ‘any debut in Carnegie Hall ever could.’ The following shows a portion of his letter to his parents:

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(Selected correspondence of Aaron copland, p. 39)

 

Copland’s gained great success in Paris very early on in his stay. In the next letter to his parents, he writes of another great victory–he sells his first composition to one of the biggest publishing companies in all of Paris. Copland writes to his parents with a delightful voice, comfortable expressing his unadulterated joy with his loved ones. Readers are lucky to be able to get such a glimpse into an intimate exchange of letters from a composer to his parents. Copland has left such a mark on music history in America, and to be able to read more closely at the details of the beginning of his career is unique and very telling of what he was experiencing in the moment.

At the end of his letter about selling his composition, with a charming tone Copland signs off saying, “So, we have a composer in the Copland family, it seems. Who says there are no more miracles. Lovingly, Aaron.” (Copland, p. 41)

 

Bibliography:

Copland, Aaron. Selected Correspondence of Aaron Copland. New Haven, CT, USA: Yale University Press, 2006. Accessed March 23, 2015. ProQuest ebrary.

Image found at:  http://lcweb2.loc.gov/diglib/media/loc.natlib.copland.phot0020/ver01/0001.tif/225

Charles Ives Startles Bandmaster John Philip Sousa

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Probably the most famous story of the Ives family is that of George Ives directing two town bands to walk towards each other in an aural experiment of clashing proportions.  Whether or not this story is true, it does tell how George inspired a desire to experiment in his son, as well as the tradition of band music that comes from the late nineteenth century.

As an adult, Charles Ives became involved in insurance, but remains one of the most prolific American composers of the 20th century.  Much of this acclaim comes from the innovation of his compositions as they experimented with key, quotations, melody, and rhythm.

In 1918 Ives became ill with some sort of heart disease.  As Ives grew sicker, he tried harder to reach the American musical communities by sending out his works to composers and musicians.  Many recipients thanked him generously for the free scores he sent, but likely did not read through the pieces–or if they did, might have been put-off by the strange and new work.  This is why John Philip Sousa’s reply is one of the best.

“1 June 1923, John Philip Sousa to Charles Ives

My Dear Mr. Ives:

Permit me to thank you for your kindness in sending me your volume of 114 Songs of which you are the composer.  Some of the songs are most startling to a man educated by the harmonic methods of our forefathers.

Yours Sincerely,

John Philip Sousa”

Sousa’s comment is neither positive nor negative, but reflects the sentiment of a man confronted with something entirely new.  As a composer steeped in the tradition of bandmasters such as Sousa, Ives must have been honored that Sousa took the time to read his work.  Band music played such a prominent role in the Ives household as George led the town bands himself and probably chose many Sousa marches to direct.  The satisfaction of knowing Sousa was impressed by Ives’ work reflects his life desire to write his father’s work.  To Charles, Sousa probably represented a bit of George with his marches.  Gaining the attention of the famous march composer must have been like receiving the approval of George Ives himself.

Burkholder, J. Peter.  “Charles Ives and His World.”  Princeton University Press, Princeton 1996.

 

 

El Salon Mexico: Copland’s Correspondence with Carlos Chavez

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copland and chavez

El Salon Mexico was a highly labored over composition Copland was particularly enthusiastic about writing. Spending over two years on its composition, Copland was in correspondence with Mexican composer Carlos Chavez years before its actual premiere in the Fall of 1937. The correspondence between Copland and Chavez reveals Copland’s strong interest in the pieces reception critically both in terms of popularity but also particularly centered on the acceptance of it as Mexican music.

Copland’s enthusiasm for the piece can be seen in his letter two years before its premiere in a letter from August 28th, 1935:

“Just now I am finishing up the orchestration of El Salon Mexico which I wrote you about last summer. What it would sound like in Mexico I can’t imagine, but everyone here for whom I have played it seems to think it is very gay and amusing!”

This quote reveals both the excitement Copland felt and also his concern over the piece’s reception in Mexico. This concern is more strongly articulated in other letters he wrote to Chavez during the piece’s composition. In October 1934 he wrote that:

“I am terribly afraid of what you will say of he Salon Mexico – perhaps it is not Mexican at all and I would look so foolish. But in America del Norte it may sound Mexican!”

copland letter oct 15 1934

Anxious to hear about the reception of the piece, Copland asked explicitly for Chavez to pass on that information to him in 1937 after he sent the piece to be performed. He writes:

“I hope the Festival will be a big success. Also, that you’ll enjoy working on the Salon Mexico. Be sure to have Armando send me all the reviews – even those of Senor Pollares!”

copland letter may 18 1937

The correspondence between Copland and Chavez provides a fascinating insight into the concerns and enthusiasm that Copland had over the piece and shows that Copland himself was very consciously thinking about the issues of race and musical representation during the composition of his piece. Some interesting questions to ask would be whether or not Copland ought to be writing pieces which he worries are “authentic” only to an audience they do not belong to. Is it reinforcing racial stereotypes if the culture wildly raving the piece as “Mexican” is America? Is Copland advocating the writing of stereotyped pieces? Or is he trying to authentically capture and represent what might constitute as “Mexican music?” Would doing so be a respectful celebration or appropriation of Mexican music? Is Copland’s correspondence with Chavez reveal a genuine desire to please Mexican audiences or to market to American audiences? These are all questions without answers, because that’s what this class is about.

Works Cited:

Kostelanetz, Richard. Aaron Copland: A Reader. Great Britain: Routledge, 2004. Print.

http://lcweb2.loc.gov/diglib/ihas/loc.natlib.copland.phot0005/default.html

 

Virgil Thomson: Master Chef

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Today, I will remain in the vein of composers and their culinary expeditions, as established by fellow author Phil Biedenbender (Here’s his post on Mahalia Jackson and her fried chicken excursion).

A pioneer of the “American” sound in classical music and winner of the 1949 Pulitzer Prize in music, Virgil Thomson had some serious musical chops. But did you know he also cooked gourmet lamb chops?

Virgil Thomson sharpening his knives in preparation for cooking

Virgil Thomson sharpening his knives in preparation

[1]

 We know Virgil Thomson mainly through his acerbic wit revealed in his writings and musical critiques. Thomson wrote many letters to his friends and acquaintances, some criticizing music, some about special occasions, and even some advice about various topics. His prose is known for being blunt and often funny even if he was being offensive. Thomson’s curiosity was insatiable, composing for almost every genre of music and absorbing all that was new around him.

Thomson also had a passion for fine wine and dining that could only be matched by his passion for music. He once stated, “If I was going to starve, I might as well starve where the food is good.” Thomson’s dinner parties were legendary. Few people were invited since space was limited in his residence at the Hotel Chelsea in New York City, home to other greats such as Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen. But those that were fortunate enough to attend were treated to an amazing meal and enlightening conversation. He may have been one of the most well-connected men in New York during his time, as people worldwide wanted to stay in contact with him.

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Correspondence from Virgil to fellow composer, Charles Shere

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 As enigmatic and detached he may seem in writing and his compositions, Thomson’s love of food makes him at once more personable as well as knowledgable. People would have not gone to his parties if he was a discourteous host or did not have engaging discussions. He showed a human side of himself that people may have never thought existed through the various meals that he hosted. Even as he was getting into his 80s and 90s, Thomson never lost his vigor and remained as sarcastic as ever until his death.

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I wish I could have had the pleasure of being served his pot roasted guinea pig.

1. Hodgson, Moira. 1980. “Virgil Thomson Orchestrates a Meal And Reminisces.” New York Times (1923-Current file), Oct 29. http://search.proquest.com/docview/121418217?accountid=351 (Accessed March 22).
2. Shere, Charles, and Margery Tade. Everbest Ever: Correspondence with Bay Area Friends (Berkeley, CA: Fallen Leaf Press, 1996), 30.
3. Ibid., 45-46.