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by Ace Gangoso Today I bring you footage from my own personal archives: a performance of “Litany” by John Musto, self-recorded around the beginning of last summer. In his setting of this Langston Hughes poem, Musto managed to make a song in a major key sound deeply mournful, a trick straight out of Franz Schubert’s playbook. During the long piano intro, the tonality shifts and wanders as the meter changes almost every bar. The vocal line lilts about and floats above the piano hauntingly, often entering and moving off beat. Yet all of the harmonic, rhythmic, and melodic quirks somehow take place without drawing excess attention to themselves. The song doesn’t sound as jarring and amorphous as one might expect given its qualities on paper. Instead, what emerges is a sound world that evokes feelings of longing, searching, and unsettledness—feelings which we are wont to experience in our current physical world.  Panel #40 from "The Migration Series" by Jacob Lawrence (1941) As much as we had hoped that January 1, 2021 would magically free us from the woes of the previous year, deep down we knew (or were quickly reminded) that things are rarely that simple. Similarly, we know that, even as new national leadership takes office, the substantive change that many hope for will take time. Some voice their eagerness for things to “go back to normal,” but my hope is actually that this doesn’t happen. The “old normal” was wrought with ignorance and complacency toward inequality and injustice, and I like to think that, overall, we have grown as a society in our consciousness and compassion. We have seen and felt suffering and hopelessness more plainly than ever, and have made sacrifices for the greater good. But what I hear wrapped into the great beauty of this song is a call for even more—to not let “we’re all in this together” to be a mere cliché, to identify and actively seek out the people and things in our lives that we habitually ignore or put off, and to listen more closely for (and respond to) the cries for help around us. Do you hear a similar call? Does this music speak to you in a different way? What are you most hopeful for this year? Feel free to use the comment section or reply to the emails with these blog entries to engage with us and let us know your thoughts! We have enjoyed staying connected with you this way and look forward to bringing you new content and performances soon.
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by Ace Gangoso The year’s at the spring, Well, the year is not at the spring. Leaves are falling, the air is turning colder, and the sun sets earlier with each passing day. All is most certainly not right with the world. Am I delusional to have chosen to post this song at this time? With our reality being as it is, I think it’s reasonable to allow our minds to escape to such a vision of springtime beauty and optimism once in a while. I like to think of this poem as the Spring 2020 we had hoped to have. Maybe we can sing this song into existence by 2021.  Amy Beach (seated) at the Brooklyn Chamber Music Society, New York in 1940. Photo: Vang Studio. I wonder what Amy Beach’s experience was with the 1918 pandemic. I’m curious about a lot of her life, actually, especially since I knew very little about her until I studied Three Browning Songs for this concert. I was instantly fascinated with her and her music. I learned that by the age of 2, Beach was probably a more skilled musician than I was at age 12—perhaps even 22. She was a piano prodigy and made her solo debut with the Boston Symphony Orchestra at age 16. When I was that age, I remember being nervous to the point of feeling nauseous to step on stage for my high school’s musical. I wonder what it was like to be so gifted that early in life, and to have to find your way as a young American woman at the turn of the 20th century. I wonder what it was like to be the first American woman to publish a symphony, and to hear it premiered by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. I wonder what it was like to be hailed a pioneer, and to be welcomed as “one of the boys” in the illustrious Boston Six.  When I consider the audacious life and career of Amy Beach… When I reflect on the calamity of the past eight months… When I stop to take notice of the steadfastness, creativity, and goodwill that has continues to emerge in spite of it all… …a part of me starts to believe that anything is possible. I invite you to join me in getting lost in wonder and daring to dream. There is new life ahead. Happy spring!
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SUBSCRIBEAboutHello, and welcome to the blog! We are Fourth Coast Ensemble, Chicago's classical vocal quartet. Join a different member of our ensemble each week for insights into our favorite art songs, links to archival and new recordings, and reflections on why we value and continue to come back to this musical medium. We proudly present, your weekly #artsongfix! Archives
February 2021
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