JUSTIN AUSTIN, co-artistic director

As a child, I was profoundly captivated by the Grammy-winning a cappella group Take 6, a remarkable ensemble of six young Black men whose music celebrated the transformative power of goodness and love. Years later, their artistry became a source of inspiration for my vision of “My Brother’s Keeper.” Growing up surrounded by encouraging influences, I felt empowered to believe that I could achieve anything. The Black men in my life made it their mission to instill in me the values of intelligence, kindness, empathy, strength, determination, and love. They recognized that, as a Black man, I would face unique challenges in the world, and they diligently equipped me to navigate those obstacles.

As I matured, I became aware that not all young Black children have access to positive role models who can guide them toward fulfilling lives. I count myself fortunate to have had such uplifting figures. The notion that the world desperately needs the compassion, decency, and work ethic I received in my youth resonates deeply with me. Inspired by this, I got the idea of programming a concert around this theme. It literally came to me in a dream: a gathering  of six remarkable Black men who inspire me daily, presented by New York Festival of Song, an organization that has nurtured me since my student days. Tonight we aim to showcase our mutual love and support, and hope to encourage all who witness our journey—regardless of race or creed—to embrace the profound importance of selfless love for one another.

Our first song, “Come Unto Me” by Take 6, encapsulates this message beautifully. It offers solace and encouragement to those burdened by life’s struggles and invites them to seek love as a pathway to peace, and it does so using jazz harmonies that are as difficult to master as they are delightful to hear.

In any brotherly alliance, one often encounters what I call “bittersweet tension.” This phenomenon is a common thread in all close relationships, and Johannes Brahms’s “Die Schwestern” serves as a delightful and playful illustration of this inevitable dynamic. Begun in 1852 and revised for publication in 1874 , “Die Schwestern” (The Sisters)—or “Die Brüder” as we’ve refashioned it —features a text by the masterly German poet (and Lutheran pastor) Eduard Mörike. The song offers a cheerful picture of the companionable affection between two siblings, originally sisters, now brothers in our version, who share an inseparable bond, engaging in every activity together, singing, working, strolling, even sharing the same bed. However, their harmonious existence is abruptly disrupted when they discover they are both enamored with the same sweetheart. I wager that this will be the first time “Die Schwestern” has been performed by two men (“Maybe in some drag art song bar?” suggested Steve Blier), but we couldn’t resist.

STEVEN BLIER, co-artistic director

I’ve known Justin Austin since 2016, when we collaborated on a concert in Caramoor’s Vocal Rising Stars program. Since then, of course, Justin’s star has definitively risen, and we have continued to create some of the most satisfying programs of my career, notablyW. C. Handy and the Birth of the Blues and ‘Taint Nobody’s Business If I Do: Songs of Gay Harlem. Justin has said that he considers me one of his important mentors, and he has returned the favor by becoming one of my great inspirations. So when he wrote me a text message proposing a project that had come to him in a dream, complete with cast and title, I returned his text in three seconds flat: “We’re doing it.”

The original plan had been for Justin to sing in the performance, but when that became impossible we brought on another wonderful artist, Alan Williams, whose background in a cappella jazz ensemble singing was a godsend for an evening that included so many group numbers. Justin remained on board as Co-Artistic Director of the show, working on the playlist and marshaling the cast from afar.

Of course, Justin came to My Brother’s Keeper with ideas about repertoire, and we also canvassed the six vocalists for their suggestions. Justin and I wanted everyone on the stage to feel that My Brother’s Keeper truly represented their experience, their worldview, their alliances, their passions. Jorell Williams was inspired to contribute two compositions of his own, and the other singers sent wish lists. I had only three requests, and the first of them was, of all things, “Some Enchanted Evening.” I had heard Will Liverman perform that old chestnut at a concert in 2021, when he took Rodgers’s music into wild, delicious directions I had never dreamed of. Will is a musician with a stunning musical imagination, and I have been longing to hear his arrangement of this song (a favorite of mine) for the past three years. Tonight’s the night.

My second idea was a song that the late Steve Lutvak gave me over a decade ago: “Beware the Anger of Soft-Spoken Men,” scored for five male voices. For some of us—alas, perhaps too few of us these days—it is difficult, even taboo, to express anger, and we seem to accumulate life experiences that only confirm our fears. Steve Lutvak’s piece is a hymn to the joys of being passive-aggressive, that surreptitious alternative to showing authentic anger. I offer it as a tribute to my late friend Steve, who died suddenly of a pulmonary embolism just a year ago at age 64. I miss him terribly; he was a superb songwriter, a Tony Award winner for his musical A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder, and one of the dearest and gentlest men I have ever known.

My third contribution was a tune NYFOS has offered in past programs, “Guiding Me Back Home,” written in 1928 by Harry Revel and Noble Sissle. On the surface, it’s a rousing waltz about a man’s enduring connection to his roots, especially to his mother. I thought that Chaz’men and Joseph had the potential to raise the roof with this tune, particularly in my voice-flattering arrangement. But I also love the fact that the song is a collaboration between a Jewish immigrant, Harry Revel, and a Black lyricist, Noble Sissle. After Revel’s parents fled Russia to settle in London, they changed their family name, Glaser, to Revel—the name of the French soldier who helped them escape.

Noble Sissle came to prominence with James Reese Europe’s renowned regimental band during World War I, the first to play marches with syncopated rhythms. His partnership with ragtime legend Eubie Blake led to their 1921 Broadway hit Shuffle Along, after which Sissle enjoyed a rich career as bandleader, accompanist, and collaborator with artists like Duke Ellington and Lena Horne. Both Sissle’s and Revel’s careers straddled the Atlantic—Sissle toured extensively in Europe, Revel worked on Broadway and in Hollywood. True to form, “Guiding Me Back Home,” with its quintessentially American theme, was published in England.

JOSEPH PARRISH

When Steve and Justin asked us to suggest material for My Brother’s Keeper, I immediately thought of “Sylvie” or “Bring Me a Little Water, Sylvy,” a song whose origins trace back to 1936. Its first known recording was by American folk musician Huddie William Ledbetter, better known as Lead Belly. Famous for his distinct timbre and virtuosic 12-string guitar playing, Lead Belly recorded more than 500 songs, spanning from folk and blues to jazz and gospel. His influence extended to later musicians such as Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan, and of course, Harry Belafonte.

“Sylvie” started as a work song but Lead Belly sang it in a light and airy way, transforming its original heft and bitterness into a song of charm and and swinging rhythm. I discovered it in the summer of 2022 in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  Scanning the record collection of my host (with whom I was staying for the Santa Fe Opera Apprentice Program), I came across a vinyl LP, Harry Belafonte Live at Carnegie Hall in 1959. Steve tells me that every middle-class household in America (including his own) had a copy of this record in the living room. “Sylvie” made an immediate impression on me due to its musical simplicity, witty lyrics, and catchy refrain. Belafonte was accompanied only by a guitar, with some occasional humming from voices in the background. If I closed my eyes, sat back, and listened, it felt like he was singing right to me.

Discovering Harry Belafonte soon led me into a full-on blaze of inspiration. Steve encourages all of his artists to dig deep within themselves in order to find what is unique to them. My Brother’s Keeper celebrates that principle, shining a very important light on the Black male experience through song.

JOSHUA BLUE

My Brother’s Keeper is a testament to the indomitable spirit of community between Black men in America. Time and time again our community has been threatened, our lives have been at risk, our souls have been shaken, but through coming together in unity and song we reaffirm our commitment to one another. My colleagues tonight inspire me to be greater in everything I do, they uplift me, celebrate me, and I them. Sharing the joy of creating art together is something uniquely special. I’m honored both to be a part of this project and to share it with you. The songs in this concert are celebrations, somber reflections, and reminders of what has been and what could be.

“Au fond du temple saint” from Bizet’s Les pêcheurs de perles (The Pearl Fishers) is considered by many to be the ultimate bromance duet. Zurga (sung tonight by Will Liverman) and his long-lost friend Nadir (yours truly) reminisce about the woman who almost came between them to ruin their friendship. On the brink of repeating their mistake, they reaffirm their relationship with one another, vowing to remain faithful until death. Is that faith tested? Of course it is, this is opera!

“Sence you went away” is from H. Leslie Adams’s song cycle Nightsongs. Set to the poetry of American writer and civil rights activist James Weldon Johnson (author of the lyrics to Lift Every Voice and Sing) the piece can take on many meanings, but I look at it through the lens of a man singing to a loved one he lost to incarceration, which disproportionately affects Black men in this country. As someone who has spent time working with incarcerated men, I’ve heard the sorrow and sadness of being separated from the world and your loved ones for longer than you ever deserved, knowing that nothing will change while still pining for what could be. This song is dedicated to these men; they’ve never left my heart.

JORELL WILLIAMS

Clear communication is, to me, one of the most vital parts of any interaction, whether face-to-face or through one of our many digital screens. When we share our intimate thoughts, worries, struggles, and triumphs, we open doors to learn, grow, and connect. Through this openness, we learn about ourselves and refine how we listen to others. Tonight’s show is a perfect medium for that kind of communication and truth-telling.

As a child, I was constantly writing songs and jotting down phrases—sometimes even slipping manuscript paper into my Bible during church services. I feel blessed to have a connection to the minds of great composers of the past, and tonight I’m honored to present a pair of original scores I’ve composed for this concert. After George Floyd’s tragic death in 2020, I felt compelled to pour my heart into a piano arrangement of Go Down, Moses. Now, with our country at a crossroads, I’ve expanded it into a four-hand piece called Americana—a powerful juxtaposition that mirrors both the fractures in my own spirit and those in our nation’s fabric. It urges us to rethink the narratives we’ve taken for granted.

In 2011, Rachel J. Peters was invited to write a Yuletide-themed song for the Broadway’s Future concert series at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, amidst debates over holiday greetings and Santa’s racial identity. Santa Ain’t Black joins her catalog of witty responses to sanctimonious debates and is as close as she’ll get to a holiday classic—meaning, not very close at all. Rachel has been a cherished collaborator since our time in the American Opera Projects’ Composers & the Voice program, and I’m honored to introduce her music to the NYFOS family.

Choral music is in my soul. To close tonight’s program, I wrote a piece that, like the title of the program, holds us accountable to stand shoulder to shoulder, reminding the world that, no matter what we face, we will remain steady as we “Hold Fast to Dreams” and never let them die.

ALAN WILLIAMS                           

I’m honored to be singing alongside some of the world’s leading Black men in the music industry, representing a new era of brotherhood. This is a golden opportunity to connect with new colleagues as we share our love not only for the classical genre, but also for jazz, gospel, and soul. I can’t stress enough how important it is for Black men to be connected to one another when faced with adversity, and to uplift each other. I value opportunities like My Brother’s Keeper, where fellowship among musicians is the very essence of the process. Being surrounded by a group of extraordinary Black vocalists fills me with deep gratitude.

In Langston Hughes’s poem, “Black Pierrot,” the narrator laments a lost love. Though rejected by his lover, he gains the resolve to start a new day and seek love again. Pierrot is a character from the tradition of Commedia dell’arte, a theatrical art form that originated in 16th-century Italy; he is usually depicted as a lovesick, whiteface-painted clown. Langston Hughes cleverly utilizes this traditional figure in his poem, creating several interesting layers of symbolism: it is simultaneously about a sad clown who mourns his stint of unreturned love, and a Black man wearing whiteface clown makeup. The writer Madhuri Deshmukh makes a persuasive argument that Hughes is using this juxtaposition as a way of exposing and countering the damage caused by American minstrelsy, which demeaned and exploited Black performers for decades until it began to die out in the 1920s.

In William Grant Still’s Songs of Separation, “Black Pierrot” is the final song in the cycle. Still uses blues and jazz harmony to evoke Black melancholy, and in tandem with Hughes’ straightforward words he paints a visceral picture of human remorse, natural beauty, and Black resilience.

WILL LIVERMAN

It is a true joy to return to NYFOS, after nearly twelve years, for My Brother’s Keeper, a deeply meaningful concert conceived by Justin Austin. I’ve never been part of something like this: a showcase for a group of Black men who are all enjoying flourishing careers as classical singers. That alone makes a powerful statement in a country where Black men are so often mischaracterized and misjudged. Coming together as brothers to sing and celebrate songs of our heritage is both uplifting and profoundly fulfilling to me. It’s also part of a movement in classical music that is advancing this beautiful art form. With Steve Blier at the helm—a visionary and a giant in this industry who has been redefining classical concerts for decades—I feel truly honored to be part of this septet of artists.

Our progress in classical music would not be possible without the Black artists who paved the way for us, including one of the most notable composers of her time, Margaret Bonds. Though only recently rediscovered as one of America’s most prominent composers, Margaret Bonds had been a significant player in the musical landscape of mid-twentieth century America. Born in Chicago in 1913, she began her studies at the music school where her mother was an instructor. She won numerous scholarships, and despite having to fight constant racism and misogyny, graduated from Northwestern University in 1934 with both bachelor’s and master’s degrees in piano and composition. It was during her studies there that she began her life-long relationship with the renowned poet Langston Hughes.

Bonds’s Three Dream Portraits, composed in 1959, set to music a trio of poems by Hughes, with whom Bonds shared a deep friendship and artistic partnership. The cycle reflects their shared commitment to social justice, elevating themes of resilience, identity, and the struggle for equality.

The three songs in Three Dream Portraits—“Minstrel Man,” “Dream Variation,” and “I, Too”—explore the complex emotions of Black Americans confronting a society rife with racial prejudice. In “Minstrel Man,” Hughes’ words express the pain behind the public façade of happiness often expected of Black performers. “Dream Variation” contrasts a desire for joyful freedom with the reality of oppression, and “I, Too” offers a vision of hope, proclaiming an inevitable inclusion in the American identity.

Many of Bonds’ works have been lost to time–and to racism. Her sudden death at the age of 59 took place four years before the passing of the copyright act, which would have allowed her estate to protect her intellectual property, and due to the pervasive disrespect that women of color faced at that time, much of her music went unrecorded. In 2013, 18 precious boxes of her scores, letters, and documents were found and acquired by Georgetown University, allowing for posthumous world premieres of one of the greatest jewels in the crown of American classical music.

CHAZ’MEN WILLIAMS-ALI

In early 2023, I reached out to Justin and told him it had been on my mind to do a project with him. He texted back and said “….this is freaky stuff, you’re not going to believe this! Last night I had another dream about you. It might have even been exactly when you texted me at 3:51 am that NYFOS put together a concert and album called My Brother’s Keeper.” I have the text still. And since that day, this has been a project that I have been very excited to see come to fruition. I am deeply honored to be in the number of those chosen to work on this concert.

Growing up in a very musical and theatrical family, I have had many passions when it comes to genre and performance types. It brings me great joy to be able to explore so many of those passions in this concert. The company of such esteemed and accomplished classical musicians ensures that the vocalism on this concert will be stellar. I’m thrilled to be singing Brahms and taking the stratospheric high line in “Come Until Me,” the ensemble that opens the program.

I have also taken on the joyous responsibility of bringing an iconic song of Donny Hathaway’s to life. I am from St. Louis, MO, and in those parts Donny is the gold standard. He was a native son, and for us he has reached almost mythical status. In St. Louis, everyone knows someone who worked with him. “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” is a song that has maintained its relevance over the half-century since Bobby Scott and Bob Russell first created it. In this world, it’s important to know that everyone needs help to reach their final destination, and it is all too easy to walk past and ignore those in need, justifying ourselves by saying that it’s someone else’s problem. But today, I’m proud to stand next to my brothers in artistry and say that when any of them need someone to help shoulder the load, I’ll be there for them.

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My Brother’s Keeper will be performed at Merkin Hall at Kaufman Music Center (NYC), November 19, 8PM. More info.