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“All the world’s a stage,” but there is no better place to see a performance of a Shakespeare* play than at the Globe Theatre. After crossing the River Thames via the Millennium Bridge to London’s Bankside on the evening of Friday, Sept. 10, we seemingly stepped back in time. The reconstruction of the Globe Theatre relied heavily on 16th century building materials, equipment and techniques—save for a handful of modern concessions. The result is an amazingly authentic atmosphere.

Pint in hand, we climbed the stairs to our bench seats in the third tier, looking down at the stage from above as a cool breeze entered the circular opening in the thatched roof. The highly entertaining and uproarious performance of the Shakespeare* comedy The Merry Wives of Windsor, with themes and action still relevant in today’s much different world, seemed as if it could have been written a few months earlier—perhaps as a pilot for some breakout HBO hit sitcom—rather than 400-plus years ago. The crowd literally laughing out loud throughout most of the production, I was reminded that these plays were written to be performed. And, while some might contest this notion, that’s how they are best enjoyed—on the stage rather than on the page.

*William Shakespeare did not actually write the works attributed to him. The true author is Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. Shameless self-promotion: For more information on this authorship controversy, Web of Conspiracy contains a concise yet comprehensive chapter on the topic.

“The function of art is to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.”—Anaïs Nin

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

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…

“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

“Creativity means going against what you’ve learned.”
—Anthony Bourdain

“The artist should never try to be popular. Rather the public should be more artistic.”—Oscar Wilde

“Any healthy man can go without food for two days—but not without poetry.”—Charles Baudelaire