Arenas died of AIDS in 1990 at age 47 and the epidemic still seems potent material for musical exploration.  Just two years ago the Fort Worth Opera mounted the operatic version of “Angels in America.”   But AIDS is almost a minor topic in the new three hour-long work.  Freedom — artistic and sexual — is the more dominate theme.

From his bed Arenas pleads for his two muses, played by sopranos in glittery ball gowns and beehive hairdos, to take him back to his youth.  Soon he’s cavorting on the beaches of Cuba and we follow his entanglement in revolutionary politics, pursuit of love and companionship, and achievement of international fame with the overseas publication of his visionary writing.

The young baritone Wes Mason played Arenas with remarkable vocal stamina and  physical dexterity to give a vivid portrait of the character’s playful creativity and steely constitution.  The singing quality of the mostly young supporting cast, though, was very uneven.   Bass-baritone Seth Mease Carico played the revolutionary officer Victor with terrific strength and clarity and Jesus Garcia, as a fellow writer, was suitable though a bit anonymous.  Tenor Jonathan Blalock, as one of Arenas’s lovers, sang with a reedy, disembodied voice and soprano Janice Hall’s one scene as the mother was just unpleasant.   A hearty chorus of about 30 was dispatched as a militant band in the first half and disco revelers near the end.

The Manhattan and Cuban locales were evoked by projections on various scrims, which after a while gave the production a weightless, floating quality.  Riccardo Hernandez was credited with scenic design and Peter Nigrini with projections.  Maybe they intended their imagery to foreshadow Arenas’ troubled life, but the beach scenes always had a heavily clouded sky and overly bluish cast.   The stage of Bass Hall also just felt too big for the piece, with many performers exiting with long dashes into the wings.  The two all male dance numbers by choreographer John de los Santos were acrobatic, choppy, and rigid, while the narrative and Martin’s lush scoring called for sensuality and seduction.

There’s plenty of Latin dance rhythms throughout and overall the opera’s pacing is quick with lots of short scenes that keep things moving. Martin’s orchestration is traditional but sometimes daringly light and understated.  Some pivotal choruses and ensembles were performed a capella.

The composer made his own libretto with assistance from Dolores M. Koch, who was a translator of Arenas’ writings.  Too often they have the characters announcing their feelings rather then trusting the music to communicate the emotions.  But in a rare accomplishment, almost every word is intelligible — a testament to both the singers and Martin’s skill at setting text.  The supertitles, by the way, provided the English lyrics as well as a Spanish translation.

A beautiful tune comes in the first act when Arenas and a lover sing, “Oh, our unhappy island, when will your troubles be done?”  Near the end of the show, the emotional and political themes come together in the line: “My death notice came not from a tyrant but from my lovers.”

The opera itself seems bolder in its handling of gay content than does the production by director David Gately.  When Arenas applies for sanctuary in the U.S., he’s harshly questioned about his sexuality — even asked by an official if he’s a top or a bottom and ordered to swish about to prove he’s a fag.  (As if his hip huggers and loud flowered shirt weren’t enough.) It was an awkward and painful moment to watch but not unbelievable either.

So why did the Fort Worth audience laugh?  There was nothing particularly campy or clownish in Mason’s movement and his face communicated shame.  Giving the audience the benefit of the doubt, perhaps it was a collective discomfort that came out as a chuckle.

Such powerful material in the libretto and score only highlighted the contrast to the staging, which played it safe with gay sensuality.  There were only two male-to-male kisses in the entire production. Both were pecks on Arena’s forehead, more motherly than passionate. And then there were those stiff dance numbers, with the men knocking against each other almost like football players.

Fort Worth Texas might be the most conservative area of the country after Orange County California.

Seven people were arrested for drunkenness, though numerous reports say that the individuals were pulled from the crowd randomly and violently.  A 26-year old man was hospitalized with head injuries.

The event occurred on the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots in New York.

Reports from Dallas Voice on the arrests and the ensuing investigations and protests:  7/1/09, 7/16/09, 8/7/09, 8/20/09, 10/30/09, 12/30/09

Meanwhile…

The one of the city’s premiere arts organizations, the Fort Worth Opera is gay, gay, gay.

And that’s not a redundancy. Just look at what they’re putting on stage.

In 2008 FWO presented the first full American staging of the operatic version of Tony Kushner’s landmark “Angels in America,” composed by Peter Eotvos.  A concurrent series of events throughout the Dallas-Fort Worth area was titled: “More Life: The Art & Science of AIDS.”

Ava Pine and David Adam Moore, Fort Worth Opera

And on Saturday night the Fort Worth Opera presents the world premiere of Jorge Martin’s “Before Night Falls,” based on the autobiography of Reinaldo Arenas. The gay Cuban writer died of AIDS in 1990 at age 47.  His memoir was published in English in 1993. A 2000 film version was directed by Julian Schnabel and starred Javier Bardem, who was nominated for an Academy Award.

Here’s composer Jorge Martin – a gay Cuban American who lives in Vermont – talking about writing an opera about a gay Cuban:

Other coverage:  Opera News: “Long Night of the Soul” by Adam Wasserman.

Synposis, biographies, background in FWO’s newsletter “Libretto”

“Before Night Falls” runs for two performances (May 29, June 6) in repertoire with the Fort Worth Opera’s other 2010 productions, “Don Giovani” (May 30, June 4) and “The Elixir of Love” (May 28, June 5).  Look for a review on this site after the June 6 performance.

Wes Mason as Reinaldo Arenas, Fort Worth Opera

Previously on MyBigGayEars:
Darren K. Woods, Administrative star and “turn around master”

But those who knew Yvar are surely grateful. And based on the stunning performance by Winston Choi in this new CD on Albany Records there are also new generations finding beauty and power in the music.

Let me admit that I enjoyed the notes by Nils Vigeland, Yvar’s former student, a pianist and a director of the Mikahshoff Trust, as much as the music on the CD.

Vigeland explains the pairing of Ravel’s “Gaspard de la Nuit” and Yvar’s most important composition, “Elemental Fragments.” One was modeled after the other and both are tour de forces of piano showmanship.  Yvar called his piece “a spiritual child of Ravel’s Gaspard…”

In Yvar’s work, the middle movement “Shaman” is my favorite. I heard it a few years ago as a stand-alone with its original name, “The Long Eyes of Earth,” played by Anthony de Mare, another former Yvar student. It’s like a big ritual or meditation and there’s a gliss in the high treble that repeats over and again, to suggest a rattle.  The piece is structured on the Fibanacci number sequence (1-2-3-5-8-13, etc.) and is exactly 688 measure long. Dan Brown, or rather his character Robert Langdon, would love it.

The common biographical statements on Yvar never give the full sense of personality that I’ve heard about, especially when De Mare talks about him. But Vigeland reveals some of Yvar’s inner conflicts and questions, especially about the tricky balance of being both composer and pianist, and lets the different sides of the man come through.

At the University of Buffalo in the early to mid-70s:

He agreed to play nearly everything, often with mixed results because he was non-judgemental concerning what he was asked to do. This led to extreme censure form thse members of the faculty that demanded aesthetic loyalty. Concerning this, he had no confederate. He was committed to doing things, not staking out a political position.  the value of these activities was less important to him than the doing of them.

If all the work didn’t always advance his career, I think the embrace of so many kinds of music foreshadowed our post-modern, post-Uptown vs. Downtown era.  Yvar would probably fit in better to today’s music scene, tho then he might not be Yvar.

A decade later:

…in 1984 appearing at that bastion of high modernism, Darmstadt’s Fereinkurse, as an uninvited recitalist.  Having shown up without prospect but with an international reputation, he was given an impromptu midnight gymnasium time slot to take his chances with an unplanned event. The room was packed, the young audience intrigued by the late extension of the day’s activities. Yvar strode to the piano, blue blazer, loud tie and boutonnier in place and launched into… Ginastera’s “Danzas Argentinas.” What would be the young disciples’ reaction to this decided “outsider art”? They went wild with enthusiasm.

I didn’t know Yvar but a story like that makes me sure wish I did.  He was born in Troy, New York, the city where I’ve lived since 2005.  He died of AIDS (a fact noticeably absent from Vigeland’s notes) in 1993 at age 52.

As profligate a performer and productive a composer (more than 50 works) as Yvar was, there’s still not much on disc. Mode Records started a series called Edition Mikhashoff more than a decade ago but has only released a few titles to date, though it has a cache of his recordings and grants and bequests to fund them.  Lets hope more of Yvar’s recorded legacy – performed by himself as well as others – continues to appear with more than a trickle.

“God bless Matt. Hey, it’s easy for me – he’s in his prime,” says Douglas to Sun Media of Canada. “I said to him, ‘Matt, I love you, man. Boy, that Bourne must really be going strong.’ But good for him. He’s right taking chances. All those young guys – (George) Clooney – they’re taking risks … It’s smart trying to mix it up a bit and maintain those franchises and still get to do a picture that turns you on.”

As for any risk to the career of Douglas, he says, “At this point and at my age, why not? It’s not all autographs and sunglasses.”

I wanted to shout out, “Wait! He’s a composer! He’s ours!”

But the plain spoken sentiment, as well as the unique name, meant it had to be the same guy.  (“The Tulips,” the poem that Keillor read, is available on the Writer’s Almanac site.)

More evidence of Gordon’s activity as a poet comes with the new disc of “Green Snakers” (Blue Griffin Recordings),  a narrative song cycle of nearly an hour in length performed by baritone Jesse Blumberg and the Miami String Quartet.  The text is more than a dozen poems written by the composer — I mean the poet — about his late partner, Jeffrey Grossi, who died of AIDS in 1996.

In the CD booklet, Gordon explains the title: “There was a day when I was staring into our closet from the vast desolation of our bed, and his sad little green sneakers suggested to me a text about the day we bought them together… (It) seemed to pour out of me… a cycle of poems that tells the story of that day and the period after, leading all the way up to his death.”

Some of the poems sets a scene or narrate, while at other points the words are addressed directly to Jeffrey.  As well as a symbol of loss, the Green Sneakers become a kind of metaphor for travel as the couple vacations or attends performances of Gordon’s operas.  And Jeffrey’s decline is described in detail.  There’s the difficult transformation of normal day-to-day activities into grueling tasks and the inexorable loss of weight.  And then the death and its aftermath, both emotional, and mundane — including donating the green sneakers and the rest of Jeffrey’s fashionable wardrobe to a thrift shop.   It’s effecting stuff, even just to list it as I do here.

Gordon’s musical setting is heartfelt but remarkably driven and never truly maudlin.  It just perseveres onward, not unlike the work of a caretaker or survivor.

The string quartet is smart choice for an accompaniment and backdrop.  It provides enough varied textures, and a balance of intimacy and depth.  A single piano might have been too close range, especially for live performance, and yet an orchestra would be too grand of a horizon for such deeply personal stuff.

The performance is beautiful and like the composition itself just distant enough, not morose or ponderous.  Blumberg has a handsome sturdy voice and the Miami String Quartet is energetic and clear.

There’s no politics nor hardly any anger in this work that is nonetheless distinctly about AIDS. It’s part diary, part memory book and requires immersion and preparation for its emotional wallop.

“Giant Steps: The Survival of a Great Jazz Pianist”

Adamo, who happens to be Corigliano’s partner, wrote “Late Victorians” in 1994 and revised it in 2007, presumably in advance of this new Naxos recording, made that same year by the Eclipse Chamber Orchestra, a Washington DC-based group conducted by Sylvia Alimena.  There’s beautiful music here and it receives a handsome performance, with narration by political commentator Andrew Sullivan and singing by soprano Emily Pulley. There’s a certain lonely isolation to the gentle orchestral writing and the “Late Victorian” idea suggests those colorful row houses, the “painted ladies,” unique to San Francisco, where the plague hit so hard.

But I just don’t get Adamo’s concept, specifically the mix of texts and their means of delivery.  Sullivan’s narration, drawn from a 1990 essay by Richard Rodriguez for “Harpers,” is interwoven with the singing of Pulley who intones poetry of Emily Dickenson, except when she’s echoing Rodriguez’s words.

Early in the piece, Sullivan’s gentle voice quietly ruminates on single men living alone in urban apartments. But then the full-voiced Pulley swoops down in dialogue.  The disparity brought to mind sickly little Prior Walter alone in his bedroom in “Angels in America” when the massive female angel bursts through the ceiling above him.  Yet the angel had something to say and the characters wrestled, literally and figuratively.  In this piece, the two characters, if they can be called that, often just commiserate.  If the idea is to form a bridge between historical eras, their languages are too similar.

A bit of hope and consolation comes in the final minutes (one of many occasions on this disc that bring to mind the music of Leonard Bernstein).  It’s not that I think a piece about AIDS needs to be uplifting or have any other emotional goal. A vivid depiction of the darkest era can be enough. It’s just that the juxtaposition of spoken male voice and operatic soprano is so extreme that it seems to call out for some metaphorical purpose and even after repeated listenings it’s not clear what that is.

The rest of the disc presents a series of short, attractive pieces for orchestra.  The best of them is “Regina Coeli,” an excerpt from Adamo’s 2006 harp concerto titled “Four Angels.” With the movement’s positioning on the disc right after “Late Victorians,” it serves as an eloquent, rather somber kind of postlude. But it would have been nice to have the whole concerto in order to hear where else Adamo takes it, especially since the harp writing in this single movement, played by Dotian Levalier (principal of the National Symphony), is so subdued.

In the four-minute Overture to Adamo’s 2005 opera “Lysistrata,” there’s a general feeling of adventure with lots of snatches of tunes that presumably appear in the opera.  It rattles on a bit, but provides some of the only genuinely lively music on the disc, especially in the final bars, which are infused with bongos and some metallic percussion and even more obvious references to Bernstein.  (In Adamo’s notes, he does credit Lenny’s Overture to “Candide” as an inspiration.)

Finally, “Alcott Music” is a 16-minute suite from Adamo’s first opera, the knock-out success “Little Women” (1998). The three movements are “Jo,” “Meg” and “Alma and Gideon.”  This piece, too, was revised for the recording from an earlier incarnation titled “Alcott Portraits.”  Adamo rightly calls it a souvenir from the opera, but in his notes he also points to the opera’s “orchestral reticence.” And that’s a fair assessment of this suite. It’s sweet and heartfelt, maybe a tad nostalgic, and rather forgettable. It could fit nicely beside some more vigorous pieces on an orchestral program and be a balm to audiences frightened of anything contemporary. But coming at the end of this already quite soothing disc, it’s pretty forgettable.

Adamo’s next major project is an opera on Mary Magdalene for the San Francisco Opera in 2013. After the light charm of “Little Women” and the farcical humor of “Lysistrata” – all of which comes through on this disc — perhaps that new topic might inspire music with more bite.

Martin’s frustrations with the music business are common, of course. After all, not everybody can be a John Corigliano or Jennifer Higdon.  It’s a given that being an artist in our society requires a healthy dose of fortitude and self reliance.  But one’s storehouse of such inner strengths can run low at times.

In 2008, Martin’s comic opera “The Good Friar” received a workshop performance by the Center for Contemporary Opera. “The audience loved it,” he recalls. “Afterward I got mad at the universe for not responding with a fuller production. So after a year of licking my wounds I figured out, once again, that I have to work even harder and that the answer isn’t going to come from out there but from inside me.

And thus is born “Martin Hennessy is Dead.”

But the subject of death has more resonance with Martin than just the fact that he’s a composer.  He’s been HIV+ for more than 20 years.

“When it came to naming the project the first thing that popped into my head was ‘Martin Hennessy is Dead!’  It cracked me up and felt so good and liberating. Not only because of the obvious joke of a composer only getting an audience posthumously but it just felt good to dump all the baggage of HIV and ego and desire for success into one succinct declaration.”

Shedding the labels of HIV and AIDS is actually quite a turn around, since it was through accepting and embracing his HIV status that Martin turned more deeply to his art and transformed from being a pianist to a composer.

Hennessy lost a lover to AIDS in 1986 and received his own diagnosis in 1988, which precipitated a long emotional bottom.  But in 1993 he went public. Way public.

“I told my parents and friends. I would tell people on line in the bank.  I was so renewed by the truth of ‘I am HIV positive.’ And I realized that the ‘HIV positive’ didn’t even matter, it was the ‘I am’ that fed me.

“I sublet my apartment and went to Philly to live with my sister and her lover. Bought an old piano at the Salvation Army in Manayunk and started writing songs and a musical.

“Let me die,

Let me always die;

Let me be an ever dying creature falling inexorably towards the earth.

For only then can I soar surely to the heights of my original imagination!

“I wrote these words during my time in Manayunk. An imagination of death can be a valuable trope for letting go, for transformation and change. Death of ego is a big one for me.”

This was also the dark era when, perhaps ironically, the labels of HIV and AIDS brought artists more attention.

“In the 90’s I was presenting some of my first work with the concert series Positive Music but I couldn’t get it done in other AIDSy sort of venues because I wasn’t dead. I distinctly remember a sort of hierarchy of sickness among composers and artists in which the sicker you were the more compelling your work was found to be and more urgent to be done. Damn! I had thrush and an AIDS diagnosis but only had shingles, boils and a recurring ear fungus and facial skin that was constantly flaking off.”

“Now in the post-AIDS world I am just a dime a dozen composer/pianist. At those networking meetings for the American Music Center or Opera America when you have to put on a name tag, I feel like jotting down ‘No One.” Or better yet, ‘Beware! Desperate Composer!!!’”

One of Hennessy’s techniques to keep desperation at bay is spiritual practice. Since 1995 he’s attended annual retreats sponsored by the Helios Foundation, based in London.

“Their process uses a simple technique of focusing on a particular point or chakra over and over until one sort of digs a hole through to the essence of being. Gradually during the three days one observes the preconceptions and the tricks of the senses fall away and what remains is a deeper, closer connection to your unique truth and sometimes even the grand event: Enlightenment.

“I used it as a tool to stay ahead of the virus and have brought other HIV’ers to the process as well. I noticed a beneficial side effect was an increased creative energy. I would accomplish my composition projects and get things done so easily afterwards.”

Current Hennessy projects include a cycle of 13 songs for soprano and baritone using Edna St. Vincent Millay’s long poem “Renascence.” Also a song cycle to AIDS-related poetry written by a gay American poet who died a few years ago (rights are currently being negotiated).  That should be a nice follow-up to another AIDS-themed work, “A Letter from East 11th Street,” a two-part chamber opera to a libretto by Mark Campbell.

Besides composing, Martin is also active as a vocal coach and accompanist, working regularly with soprano Marnie Breckenridge and mezzo-soprano Heidi Skok.

With typical effusive candor, he declares: “I want to start writing an obituary now by performing my music with wonderful artists and building an audience for my work in concerts presented by Martin Hennessy is Dead!”

Martin Hennessy is Dead! is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions in behalf of Martin Hennessy is Dead! may be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. Click on the link to read more and make a contribution.

Back in the day, the worlds of dance and visual art appeared to suffer the most AIDS deaths. Music’s involvement seemed to be more about fundraising through concerts and CDs (Music for Life, the Red Hot discs, etc.).

Yet my research project for the Estate Project for Artists with AIDS, conducted from 2002 through 2005, uncovered a staggering list of deaths — 131 composers and 238 performers. And there were many more besides that.  Within a year of so of beginning to dig for information, it was nearly overwhelming and I brought in the assistance of Nurit Tilles to join me in the work, which was both trying and rewarding.  While our efforts were met with gratitude from many still-grieving survivors, we also faced secrecy and shame and general opposition from others including some institutions. Our grant funds ran out after about three years, which was around the same time that our determination also receded.  More than just lists, the bulk of the Music Archive web site is devoted to sharing everything we could find about the composers’ works and where they can be found.  My introduction tells the full story of how we gathered the information.

In honor of Day Without Art and in tribute to the many musicians who died, I offer… a quiz!

Match the name on the left (they include songs, tv shows, ensembles) with the musician on the right.  Scroll way down for the answers.

THE QUIZ:

“The Boy From Oz”                                                                 Fela Anikulapo Kuti

New York City Gay Men’s Chorus                                      Michael Callen

“Jerker”                                                                                      Chris DeBlasio

Creedence Clearwater Revival                                             Nicholas Schaffner

“An Eye-Sky Symphony”                                                       Howard Greenfield

The Flirtations                                                                        Paul Jabara

“It’s Raining Men”                                                                 Tom Fogerty

The Beatles                                                                              John Outlaw

“Walt Whitman in 1989”                                                     Robert Savage

“Down At The Drugstore”                                                    Peter Allan

AfroBeat                                                                                     Freddie Mercury

“Night at the Opera”                                                                Robert Chesley

Turtle Creek Chorale                                                               Dean X Johnson

“Bewitched”                                                                               Kristopher Jon Anthony

THE ANSWERS:

“The Boy From Oz” was a musical tribute to the life of Australian singer and songwriter Peter Allan (1944-1992) who was once married to Liza Minnelli.

From 1984 to 1996 The New York City Gay Men’s Chorus had as its assistant music director and principal accompanist Dean X Johnson (1955-1998), who was also a composer.

“Jerker” was one of many plays by Robert Chesley (1943-1990), who before finding success as a playwright was a composer of songs and chamber music.

The folk rock band Creedence Clearwater Revival had as its lead guitarist and backup vocalist Tom Fogerty (1941-1990)

“An Eye-Sky Symphony” was the largest work of New York City composer and pianist Robert Savage (1951-1993).

The Flirtations was the vocal group co-founded by Michael Callen (1955-1993), an important voice in Out Music and a pioneering AIDS activist.

The disco hit “It’s Raining Men” was co-written by Paul Jabara (1948-1992) and Paul Schaeffer (David Letterman Show).

The Beatles were the subject of three books by the singer/songwriter and pop music authority Nicholas Schaffner (1953-1991), who also wrote “Saucerful of Secrets: The Pink Floyd Odyssey.”

The art song “Walt Whitman in 1989” was composed by Chris DeBlasio (1959-1993) to poetry by Perry Brass.  It comes from the song cycle “All The Way Through Evening” and is also included in the AIDS Quilt Songbook.

“Down At The Drugstore” was the only album by singer/songwriter John Outlaw (1956-1993). Originally named John Savage, he was also an actor who appeared in the soap operas All My Children, Guiding Light and Another World.

The sound of AfroBeat was created by Fela Anikulapo Kuti (1938-1997), whose life and music are featured in the new Broadway musical “Fela!”

Released in 1975, “Night at the Opera” was one the fourth of seven albums recorded by Queen, which was led by front man and principal songwriter Freddie Mercury (1946-1991).

The Dallas-based Turtle Creek Chorale had as a member for 10 years Kristopher Jon Anthony (1954-1992), who was also its composer in residence for several seasons.

The theme music to “Bewitched” was written by Howard Greenfield (1936-1986), who collaborated extensively with Neil Sedaka.

Chris DeBlasio (1959-1993)

Twenty years ago in New York Mimi Stern-Wolfe, a pianist/conductor/impressario, started producing concerts of music by composers with AIDS, roughly timed to coincide with World AIDS Day.  Among those who attended performances of their music were Chris DeBlasio, Kevin Oldham and Lee Gannon (all now deceased), as well as the still very vital Fred Hersch.  A CD of highlights was released a few years ago, and a chronology of the series is available at www.ArtistsWithAIDS.org.

The series returns again this year on Sunday December 6 at St. Marks in the Bowery. The program features songs cycles of the late Chris DeBlasio, including the landmark “All The Way Through Evening” with lyrics by author and poet Perry Brass.