“Every production of an artist should be the expression of an adventure of his soul.”—W. Somerset Maugham

“Your profession is not what brings home your paycheck. Your profession is what you were put on earth to do. With such passion and such intensity that it becomes spiritual in calling.”—Vincent van Gogh

A Conversation With Composer Alexandra du Bois,
Rendering the World’s Chaos, Beauty Into Sonic Storms

For the uninitiated, and perhaps even in the minds of some casual listeners, classical music might seem like the province of the dead and dying—music written by long-dead composers, enjoyed today by predominantly elderly listeners. I can understand, to some extent, why that misconception persists. Neither expert nor neophyte, I first fell in love with classical music a decade ago when introduced to Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello Suites. And as my interest in and passion for classical music has grown, so too has my iTunes library (or vice versa). That collection—as is probably the case for many typical fans of the genre—consists mostly of centuries-old giants: Bach and Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, Mahler and Dvorák. These are also the names, among other similarly popular composers, that seem to be performed most regularly. I’ve had the opportunity to enjoy numerous concerts over the last several years, at venues ranging from Lincoln Center to a Savannah cathedral, standing out on each occasion for my lack of gray hair.

Alexandra du Bois shatters that stereotype of classical music, the notion that it’s old music for old people.

This under-30 New York City-based composer has already established a remarkably impressive résumé. A graduate of Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music with a master’s degree in composition from The Juilliard School, du Bois has been commissioned by the likes of the Kronos Quartet and Menahem Pressler’s Beaux Arts Trio. She’s been praised (deservedly so) by Mark Swed of the Los Angeles Times, Alex Ross in the New Yorker, and a couple of New York  Times critics. She was even named as one of three “Faces to Watch in 2010” in the music category by the L.A. Times. The quality of Du Bois’s music is matched only by its quantity; her output already spans many forms, from solo works and sonatas to various trios, string quartets and orchestral works. Her compositions have been performed by world-class musicians at venues around the world: Alaska, New York, Vietnam, Los Angeles, Amsterdam, San Francisco, Australia, and many other cities across Europe and the U.S.

I discovered du Bois at the Savannah Music Festival in March of 2009—my first time attending the spectacular two-week event, which I had been looking forward to since moving here the previous summer. After purchasing tickets to more concerts than any financial advisor would have recommended, I knew I spent wisely following the first two nights: both chamber music concerts in the perfect chamber music setting (the rotunda at the Telfair Academy of Arts & Sciences in the historic district of downtown Savannah). The names on the programs those nights were fairly familiar: Beethoven, Schulhoff, Barber, Dvorák, Janácek, and Smetana. And I was hooked. So much so that upon leaving the Prazak Quartet’s performance Saturday evening, I opened my wallet and added another concert to the calendar—the next day.

Perhaps I was compelled to pull the trigger by the unfamiliar name of the composer that led the lineup for the Sunday afternoon performance, or the atypical year of birth that accompanied the composer’s name in the program, or the fact that this would be the world premier of the composer’s piece. Whatever the reason, I’m glad fate has its ways, I thought at the time, sitting a few rows from the stage as two violinists (the accomplished Daniel Hope and Lorenza Borrani, a young rising star from Italy) moved their way from opposite ends to meet in the middle, a palpable passion transmitted through their instruments. Perfectly suited to share the bill with Rachmaninoff and Schubert, the piece—titled Chanson d’orage (translated as Storm of Song) by Alexandra du Bois—was, simply put, captivating. Writing in Gramophone Magazine, critic Robert Hilferty said:

“The 10-minute folie a deux begins with the violin lines tightly intertwined. The instruments seamlessly switch roles as accompanist and melody-messenger. They frequently converge, wrestle, caress, capitulate. Entanglement is the name of the game, with moments of singing lyricism. It’s a virtue that du Bois’s music is simple without being simplistic, maintaining a buoyant intensity that doesn’t wear you out.”

Inspired by the sounds of nature and provoked by current events, du Bois’s music is perhaps best described as diverse—both sonically and emotionally. From the peace of a gentle ocean to the impassioned pleas of a peace movement, from the anticipation of an approaching storm to the discontent caused by an impending war, du Bois evokes scenes and sentiments in vivid, unexpected and provocative ways. Often allowing seeming contradictions to surface at various points in a single piece, her compositions consist of a wide range of qualities: lush but simple; soothing and haunting; raw yet delicate; heartbreaking but inspiring; frenetic and meditative; complex yet accessible. A couple of things are certain: du Bois’s music is consistently beautiful and speaks to all—regardless of age, young or old.

It is hard to imagine a scenario in which du Bois is not a household name in short order. Thankfully, more of du Bois’s work will soon be available to a wider audience, as she expects two pieces (including the aforementioned Chanson d’orage) to be recorded and released in the upcoming year. And luckily for Savannahians and others in the Southeast, du Bois will be returning to the Savannah Music Festival in 2012 with another world premiere.

Du Bois gracefully took time from her busy schedule to discuss numerous topics: her musical roots, sources of inspiration, her creative process, the future of classical music, the importance of arts and music education, some past highlights and future endeavors as a composer, and much more, sharing a few excerpts of her music* and a spectacular playlist of recommended listening with The Madness of Art. Read more…

“An art which isn’t based on feeling isn’t an art at all…feeling is the principle, the beginning and the end; craft, objective, technique—all these are in the middle.”—Paul Cézanne

Dressed in familiar traditional garb, a Tibetan Buddhist monk hunched over a square table in the middle of the glass-enclosed atrium of the Jepson Center for the Arts in Savannah, rubbing a metal rod he held in his right hand against the serrated surface of a long, thin metal funnel (called a chak-pur) in his left. As tourists of the historic district’s antebellum mansions entered the conspicuously contemporary structure to escape the sudden summer storm, joining those who intended to attend this event, the monk remained solely focused on task before him, despite the squeaking sneakers, increasingly audible chitchat, and camera flashes. The colored grains of sand flowed like liquid through the chak-pur (a result of the vibrations caused by the metal rod) on to the wooden platform, guided by the monk’s steady hand and concentrating mind.

After nearly 30 hours over several days, the group of lamas from the Drepung Loseling Monastery eventually completed the mandala, a remarkably intricate circular design composed of millions of grains of various colored sand. Once finished, it was destroyed. Read more…

“What art offers is space—a certain breathing room for the spirit.”
—John Updike

“You can’t make art with business in mind. You have to make art first.”—Jay-Z

One Fan’s Quest to Get Closer to the Music

By James F. Broderick, Guest Contributor

They jam it in the basements
And crank it in the cars
It’s on the Voyageur
On its way out to the stars
—From “Do You Rock and Roll?”

It’s a crisp spring Saturday afternoon in Georgetown, Ontario, Canada, and the lead guitarist of the greatest band in North America is gingerly pushing his 1978 Mesa Boogie amplifier up a slightly inclined concrete sidewalk. About a block ahead, a small crowd has begun gathering inside the bar on the main floor of the McGibbon Hotel, a scrubbed-brick structure dating back to the mid-1800s that would be at home in a Civil War movie shoot. The din of the dimly lit bar room and restaurant, a homey hybrid that is part hunting lodge, part small-town wedding hall, rises appreciably as a local music promoter pulls raffle numbers for a local charity from a glass bowl and announces six-digit numbers to the crowd of Molson drinkers, who check their tickets and cheer or groan, bathed in reflected faded neon and jostling to get a little closer to the stage.

Back on the sidewalk, I offer to help, and position myself behind the vintage amplifier that sits aboard a set of wheeled planks. I push even more slowly than he did, pausing when I get to a noticeably large crack in the sidewalk. I’m wary of going too quickly, of knocking this deceptively heavy box off its casters.

“Good man,” I hear over my hunched shoulders, and I look up. The guitarist is nodding, apparently grateful for my caution, my reverence for this piece of irreplaceable sonic furniture.

Guitars will also shortly be unpacked from car trunks, basses and keyboards unloaded from another car. But they’ll be carried in the nonchalant style of seasoned musicians, more like appendages than appliances. But this piece of equipment requires special care.

I get to the door, and there’s a steady flow of people coming and going from the bar room. The guitarist is well known here, and he gives the bouncer a wave and enters the bar. I straddle along behind, still pushing. In a clearly redundant gesture that I just can’t keep from making, I look up and tell the ticket-taker, “I’m with the band.” Read more…

“The important thing is never to let oneself be guided by the opinion of one’s contemporaries; to continue steadfastly on one’s way without letting oneself be either defeated by failure or diverted by applause.”
—Gustav Mahler

In locales across the country this weekend, from backyard barbecues and community celebrations to bars and car stereos, chances are Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” will be blasting from speakers—the track seemingly set on an endless loop, crowds shouting the chorus en masse with a heightened level of patriotic fever, the song selection and singalongs rife with irony.

The Boss’s most recognizable recording is, after all, one of the great protest songs of all time. A damning criticism of the Vietnam War and a scathing indictment of the devastating effects of Reaganomics on the working class, “Born in the U.S.A” has been long been misinterpreted, by Reagan himself and other right-wingers. For those who understand the narrative and themes of the song, perhaps it is appropriate that this anthem serves as part of the soundtrack for Independence Day celebrations throughout the United States every summer. There’s nothing more American and patriotic than dissent and rock music (the First Amendment is first for a reason), from the spirituals of enslaved African-Americans and the early 20th century folk songs in support of the American worker to the protest music during the Vietnam War era and the resurgence of anti-war songs during the Bush administration.

So at a time when the right wing fights to cut off unemployment benefits for average Americans while apologizing to a foreign corporation like BP and Democrats continue to wage wars started by the previous administration, The Madness of Art offers a patriotic playlist (after the jump) different than most, one in which musicians use their voices and artistic ability to speak truth to power.  Read more…