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George Russell Sextet (with Sheila Jordan): You Are My Sunshine
The story of the song’s composition ultimately has little to do with the sublime brilliance of this extremely unorthodox 1962 interpretation of “You Are My Sunshine” by the George Russell Sextet which features the first prominent recorded experience of an extremely unusual vocalist named Sheila Jordan who now, at the youthful age of 88, continues to tour the world and mesmerize audiences everywhere with her singing. At first, it’s impossible to tell that this is “You Are My Sunshine”; it sounds more like music by Edgard Varèse. When Russell eventually introduces the tune’s famous melody, it is harmonized with abrasive dissonances. But just when things seem to be going totally out of control, there is a sudden silence and then Jordan sings the song completely alone though she is eventually drowned out by the ensemble when they resume playing.
Ned Rorem: Visits to St. Elizabeth’s
I should probably make my point about how a great poem can be made even greater through a sensitive musical setting with something in a language that everyone reading this blogpost can understand, so for that I’ll point you all to a fabulously creepy 1950 poem about a visit to the poet Ezra Pound in an insane asylum by the great American poet by Elizabeth Bishop called “Visits to St. Elizabeth’s.” A mere seven years later it was set to music by one of the most prolific art song composers of all time—Ned Rorem (b. 1923).
Dock Boggs: Sugar Baby
The first song I want to feature here is a performance by a solo performer where music, words, singing, and instrumental accompaniment come together as a unified totality. It’s not quite as old as the Hurrian Hymn or the chivalric serenades of the Troubadours, though it’s from a few generations before the people we immediately call to mind when we think of singer-songwriters. “Sugar Baby,” recorded on March 9, 1927, was one of the earliest recordings of American country music.
Arnold Bax: I heard a Piper Piping
Listen to how Ann Murray slims that fabulous instrument of hers down to its shining kernel! This is a stunning performance by two fearless, genuine artists. I chose this song because I have learned from my husband that even in the most trying and desperate of times, one must be able to find some small particle of positivity. So, between the screeching of Trump headlines and the next letter to your senator, here’s a little something that is beautiful and timeless.
Kurt Weinzierl/Kurt Tucholsky: An das Publikum
Kurt Tucholsky once wrote “A country is not only what it does, but what it tolerates.”
Tom Lehrer: Send in the Marines
From the ultimate satirist, Tom Lehrer.
For might makes right
Until they’ve seen the light
They’ve got to be protected
All their rights respected
’Til somebody WE like can be elected.
Randy Newman: Political Science
Steve first introduced me to the music of Randy Newman with the song Dayton Ohio, 1903 in the NYFOS ‘Roadtrip’ program and I have been a huge fan ever since. This song, written in the early 70s, is one of favorites. It pulls no punches. At a 2011 concert in London, Randy said about this song: “Funny how people don’t laugh at [it] anymore. We’re not actually that crazy. Not quite.”
Bert Kalmar & Harry Ruby: These Are the Laws Of My Administration
If you haven’t yet seen the Marx Brothers film Duck Soup, do yourself a favor and watch it—it’s irreverent, hysterical and (these days) educational. The lyrics pack a particular punch right now: “If you think this country’s bad off now, just wait ’til I get through with it”… Ouch. Take a listen.
William Bolcom: Lorca Songs
William Bolcom is my musical godfather. I’ve known him since the late 1970s—Alvin Epstein introduced us after one of their Tully Hall concerts. When I met Bill’s wife Joan Morris I said, “Oh you were so wonderful this evening—but I am sure you must be tired of hearing that from everyone.” And she said, “Oh, actually…no. Try me.” We bonded instantly.
John Musto: Penelope’s Song
I couldn’t do a week of American song blogs without featuring my friend John Musto. I first heard him at a memorial concert for Paul Jacobs, who had been my piano teacher for a little while. John was playing a duo-piano piece (Schubert, I think) that night. Both guys played beautifully, but there was something special in John’s sound and phrasing that resonated in my soul. I struck up a conversation with him at the party afterwards, and we soon became friends and colleagues. We’re both dyed-in-the-wool New Yorkers, and somehow the contrasts in our personalities helped to forge a bond between us.
Picnic Cantata / Dinner at Eight
Paul Bowles’ A Picnic Cantata has been something of a NYFOS signature piece ever since our late board member Morris Golde brought it to Michael Barrett’s attention in the early 1990s. I remember going with Michael to listen to it in the Lincoln Center Library Research Division—the LP was long out of print. Alternatively spiky and lyrical, utterly unpredictable, and oddly graceful, Bowles’ music won me over. We programmed it on a double bill with a concert reading of André Messager’s operetta L’amour masqué—a project so ambitious that I had to check my archives to reassure myself that my memory was not deceiving me. We should have renamed ourselves “The New York Festival of Chutzpah.”
Gabriel Kahane: Merritt Parkway
Gabriel Kahane is one of my favorite contemporary songwriters. He sprang to prominence with an early piece, “Craigslistlieder,” a brash, hilarious, and sophisticated song cycle based on internet postings. Gabe has a unique way of melding popular and classical styles, cross-breeding German art song and 90s power ballads, Fauré and Beatles, Stravinsky and Radiohead into something uniquely his own.
Leonard Bernstein: A Julia de Burgos
Of all of Bernstein’s vocal works, the one I love most is “Songfest.” It was originally intended to premiere during the Bicentennial year, but Bernstein was not able to finish it in time. As a result he had to relinquish the commission. Yet he felt strongly impelled to finish the work—the idea had taken root within him. “Songfest” finally had its first full performance in 1977, and it was worth waiting for.
Samuel Barber: O Boundless, Boundless Evening
I’ve become friends with my British colleague Julius Drake. John Brancy introduced us a few years ago, and I am always touched that Julius makes sure to see me when he’s in town. I admire him very much as an artist, and have taken to sending him occasional emails when I am practicing. The mere idea of his presence—my inner Julius, I guess you’d call it—calms me and guides me at the piano.
This is our last day together, all you amazing folks who support NYFOS!!! I can’t believe I only get to share one more song with you. I’ll have to beg Steve to let me do this again sometime in the summer. For my final selection, I want to say Thank You. However, because life is never quite what you expect, I have decided to throw you a curve ball.