"It's Who We Are": An Interview with Nathalie Joachim

We're ecstatic to be performing with Nathalie Joachim on Friday, September 13th! We've been dreaming this up together for over a year, when Nathalie asked if we might be interested in performing excerpts from Fanm at her set on Resonant Bodies Festival in Chicago. Being long-time fans of Nathalie's, we were pretty bummed that we couldn't do the gig, but it set us on a course: we started thinking immediately about how we could work together, and perhaps even support her work on this extraordinary project in an even more substantial way.

Clara sat down with her recently to go even deeper behind the scenes…

photo: Josué Azor

photo: Josué Azor

Clara Lyon: Where does the story of Fanm d’Ayiti begin?

Nathalie Joachim: My maternal grandmother passed away in September of 2015. She was a really important voice in my life and losing her had me thinking about her voice, and also what female voices in Haiti have meant to me, historically. 

One day after she had passed, I was having a casual conversation with my parents, and it was weird: I was thinking about these voices and how they are such a part of who I am, but also that – except for Emeline Michel – I couldn’t actually name any other female Haitian artists. So my parents and I started talking about which female artists they could remember. I still actually have the handwritten list from that evening, and there were really only a dozen names on it.

CL: When did this initial curiosity transform into a commission?

NJ: A few months later I received an inquiry from Kate Nordstrum, who curates the Liquid Music series. I sent her my best, most curated list of projects and at the very, very bottom of the email, I added something like, “You know, I’ve also been thinking of doing this project centered around women of Haiti, but I’m not really sure what I would do yet.” Much to my surprise, this is the one she was really most curious about.

Thanks to Kate, this was the first time that I was given the space and support to have a real “research phase.” There wasn’t a note written down for a very long time.

Now, I am trying to embed this kind of time and space into my practice. I feel that being classically trained, you are pushed into this forum of carving something up, sculpting what is supposed to be there. This project turned my entire practice on its head: instead of forcing a form or shape upon something, I just allowed it to become what it needed to be, to receive all of the things that were coming, and to be open enough to receive them.

CL: I was just thinking about how you described to Spektral what a musical person your grandmother was, and how she really is responsible in some ways for your love of music and love of musical collaboration. Do you know how your grandmother became such a musical person?

NJ: The lineage of passing on music in Haiti is really organic. The passing on and sharing of music is not a special thing that happens, it is really an essential thing that happens. For my family, it is one of the ways we share time together.

It would be much more strange if my grandmother didn’t have a love or attachment to music. Because it would mean that she was the link in the chain of musicality in my family that was broken, or that she chose to not participate in it. It’s not a unique thing. It’s just who we are.

CL: When I went to Haiti a few years ago for a teaching artist residency, something I encountered with many of the people I met and the folks I collaborated with was this incredible generosity with sharing their artistic traditions, and a deeply rooted sense of pride in Haitian art as a real cultural treasure. I wonder if this resonates with your experience of Haiti, and what role you feel that art plays in Haitian culture. 

NJ: Absolutely, absolutely. Let’s just start off by saying that pride is a sort of quintessential Haitian characteristic. We are a very proud people, for good reason, I think, and the arts are really valued in a beautiful way. There are entire regions and cities that are known specifically for their art-making, and it is a very big part of our cultural history. 

That is also why, to be honest, that I was in this place of pulling out my hair to figure out what to do about the cover artwork. It’s a really great example of what you are talking about: there is a form of Haitian painting, and also wood-carving style, that you probably saw a lot of when you were there. Very often, Haitian women are depicted at work in different ways. I don’t really know the origins of this style-I’d like to know more about it-I just know that it was etched into my brain because it is in every Haitian household, and every Haitian establishment. When I think of artwork in Haiti that is the thing that comes to my mind because it is just so prevalent-we had it in my household growing up, and my Mom is a visual artist too, so we had some of her work as well. Definitely that side of things too: personal expression-whether through song, or visual art, writing, or storytelling, is a huge part of Haitian culture. 

I’m just so pleased at everyone’s at people’s reactions to the cover art because I wanted to work with Erin K. Robinson. She herself has such a history in her work that is featured around the black female form, both women and girls. It is a very central part of her art-making, so that resonated with me right away. She wasn’t very familiar with Haitian artwork, so I sent her some examples that I had from my own travels, and took some pictures of what my family had on their walls, and she did such a gorgeous, modern interpretation of the work that I am so proud of. In so many ways the cover is also a reflection of the songs on the album, but I was also glad to bring in this lens of visual artwork and it’s celebration of Haitian women and their resilience. I just loved that! And Erin did such a wonderful job of honoring the tradition.

The idea of expressing all that is in you, in an artistic way, is something that is very common in Haiti. I think it’s related to why you hear women singing all the time as they work and go about their lives, because it is just in them to express themselves. I think that we view art as storytelling, and I’m proud to say that that is part of who we are. 

Haitian people are extremely artistic people. You find that even in the girls choir sample in “Alleluia.” It’s not a professional choir, it’s literally just the girls who live in town, some of whom are my little cousins. There is nothing special about what they are doing, they are just doing what they do, but they sound so beautiful.

CL: I’m curious about your compositional choices with Fanm d’Ayiti. You are such an accomplished flutist and composer employing a wide breadth of styles in your work, and at the time it must have felt like adapting and arranging these songs could have gone in many different directions. How did you make the decision to sing on this album?

NJ: I think the thing that drove me most in terms of expression had to do with two things. For one, there was my grandmother. I don’t think that I ever played flute for her. We always made music by using our voices. 

Also, the stories and the text behind these songs is so powerful. But it was definitely putting myself out on a limb. There was a very good chance that I was going to make a record and everyone would be like, “Why are you singing?”

CL: What do you hope the audience takes away from our Chicago premiere on Friday night

NJ: I hope that everybody experiences the deep sense of love and respect that I have for this ancestry, this lineage, and these women who have come before me. I hope that people will see that this is such a deep part of who I am. More than anything, I want to be able to honor these women by making this music.

art: Erin K. Robinson

art: Erin K. Robinson

Fanm d’Ayiti
Record Release Show

Friday, Sept 13
Black Ensemble Theater

"Let's Make Space": An Interview with LJ White

LJ White.jpeg

On August 14th, we kick off our 2019/20 season with our popular Once More, With Feeling! series, featuring two of our favorite artists: composer LJ White and the 1960’s cult favorites, The Shaggs. Our 2019/20 season is all about uncovering how much of a composer’s personal identity they chose – or not – to include in their writing, so Doyle got in touch with LJ (composer of Spektral fan favorite Zin zin zin zin) about how he aproached one of the most infamous tracks in all of rock history.

Doyle Armbrust: Hey LJ, I love Zin zin zin zin just as much today as I did when you first wrote it.

LJ White: Thanks!

DA: From what you state on your website, it seems like this open-arms approach to sound is still at the heart of what you are up to as a composer. Does it look any different these days than when you wrote Zin?

LJ: I wrote Zin over six years ago now, and I can explain it all better now, but I think the motivations are still the same. I like to examine and question genre barriers, and I do it through considering all of the elements of music under my control – pitches, rhythms, timbres, textures, phrasing, articulation, and on and on – independently of each other and with as open of a mind as possible. In Zin, for example, there are timbres that would fit in at Darmstadt, there are motivic and rhythmic elements from hip hop, there’s a way of thinking about vertical spacing that’s informed by spectral music, and there’s comedic timing in the structure and a rhetorical, onomatopoeic communicativeness of gesture that are reminiscent of opera buffa or cartoons.

There’s no reason all of those things can’t make sense together, if they work toward a singular purpose or feeling for the music, a singular idea that interests me. The reason I’m interested in breaking down these lines of genre, I think, is that as a queer trans person, I’ve had to continually make lots of small decisions in order to build a fitting identity outside of the big binary-gender categories that would have otherwise made those kinds of decisions (what to wear, how to speak, etc) automatically for me. And I like to try and build a world, modeled in music, where the full spectrum of decision making is open in all cases, where we all can, as much as possible, freely make decisions for ourselves.

DA: This season, we are aiming to have composers tell us what aspects of their identity they want front and center, rather than whatever the current narrative about them may be. If we were to write up a one-sentence bio for you in one of our programs, what would be the lede, as of this moment?

LJ: This is a really interesting question. Thanks for the thoughtfulness in striving to represent the composers you’re working with the way we want to be represented.

It seems like there’s two parts to it: 1) Tell us what aspects of your identity you want people to understand about you, or associate with you, and 2) What should your one-sentence bio be? In my case, a one-sentence bio wouldn’t encompass issues of identity directly. The first sentence of my bio (which, for composers, can end up being used as a “one-sentence bio,” and is something we agonize over) says that my music is “direct, focused, and socially relevant” and “assimilates a variety of influences.” This is what I think my work does, in a nutshell. However, identity issues are important to why my music has these priorities, as I’ve described. I want people to know that I’m transgender. My gender identity is something that has strongly informed my work, in tandem with other aspects of myself, and it probably it is a large part of the “current narrative” of me that is out there, cultivated by myself and others. I also care about LGBTQ+ visibility, so it’s important to me to be open. That said, my gender identity is definitely not the full picture, and probing my music would uncover a lot of other features based on an inseparable tangle of identity-based, interest-based, and personality-based traits, one which I don’t think can be summed up fairly in a sentence that would function as a composer bio.

All of this is to say, I guess, that you can feel free to tell audiences that I’m trans and that this informs my music, but let’s make space for this information to be an organic response to questions about why the music sounds the way it does and how I understand my work, along with any other relevant information that could pop up (like the amount of time I spent watching cartoons and MTV as a kid, my interest in language and communication and interpersonal dynamics, etc.)

DA: As a trans composer, that aspect of your identity is probably going to surface pretty often. Is that something you embrace, or is it challenging to automatically be compelled to be an advocate?

LJ: It’s complicated, but I do embrace it, and I hope I’m always an advocate. As I was alluding to, I think my gender identity is something that’s foundational to the way that I think of and write music, whether or not the music deals directly with LGBTQ+ issues – for all of us, our art comes from who we are – so I’ve gotten comfortable talking about it, on my own terms. And I often do want to engage those issues explicitly in music. I feel that there’s been a good balance: I’m getting to write those pieces close to as frequently as I want to, and I’m also getting a lot of opportunities to write pieces about other things.

When I write LGBTQ+-focused music, I tend to write it for friends and close colleagues in the contemporary classical world, who I know support me, and who I know think carefully about gender and other issues of identity for themselves. That way, we’re all connecting to the music with passion, and I don’t feel isolated or other-ized. There are so many important issues to grapple with right now, in 2019 – gender is just one of all of the things we’re collectively taking on. At times, I’ve turned down opportunities where that collaborative, world-improving, inclusive spirit seemed to be missing: interviews that felt tokenizing, or commissions that were too prescriptive and inauthentic to my experience, or situations where I wasn’t sure I trusted the presenting organization to get it right. But I’m thankful that an abundance of fruitful collaborations has made those experiences irrelevant, in my case.

DA: We chose you to re-imagine one of our favorite tunes, My Pal Foot Foot, because 1) We love your work, and 2) because we figured a tune this fringe would be right up your alley. Do you remember your reaction when you first heard the original track?

LJ: I was like, “This is bananas. And I need to listen to this whole album a lot.”

DA: One thing I find so compelling about this tune, and The Shaggs in general, is that they are unabashedly doing their own thing. I think the “other-ness” is what draws me in. Do you find yourself with any similar feelings of camaraderie with the music-making in this way?

LJ: I didn’t really experience it in this way, honestly. I think what was compelling about it for me was the improbable musical material and the seeming belief among the band members that they were “doing it right,” doing what musicians do – the dutiful rudiments in the drum part, the simultaneous earnestness and wackiness of the lyrics, etc. I geeked out on things like the really complex rhythmic and pitch material and amazingly weird harmonic and lyrical structure of the song, which coexist really interestingly with that dutiful vibe that I felt I was picking up on. To me, it felt more like a misguided attempt at conformity than a rebellion.

The connection for me might be in the ways that I’ve tried but spectacularly, cluelessly failed to conform to things like gender roles in the past. I’m not sure how to say this without being condescending towards the band, though.

DA: What was your lightbulb moment, when you were writing your cover?

LJ: I think it was figuring out how to do something original with this music without having it feel like I was just making fun of the Shaggs because they’re out of tune and out of time, etc. I had several false starts before I started to bring in a bigger variety of material and to, in a way, poke fun at all of it by juxtaposing it all with references to opposing styles and associations. This includes the references to my own previous music that are in the piece. I had to discover that the music needed more territory to cover in order to not take itself too seriously.

DA: You’re now a teacher of composition. Do you find yourself offering your students specific advice in terms of how much of themselves, personally, they should invite into their music?

LJ: I want my students to write really personal music, by learning how to control all of the musical elements at their disposal toward their chosen goals in a musical work, and also by being thoughtful about themselves and what’s important to them, so that they can infuse their music with their own aesthetic and extra-musical values. This doesn’t mean that they should all write explicitly confessional or identity-focused music if that isn’t what feels right – it’s really about the way of constructing music more than the music’s stated topic or purpose. I want them to make decisions in a way that’s individualized and thoughtful and connected to what they’ve been able to observe that they like or believe in or care about. I want them to think more deeply than conforming to any one style blindly, and to write music that no one else could write but them.

It’s something I put a lot of thought into.

A Larger, Mysterious Logic: An Interview with Composer Tonia Ko

A Larger, Mysterious Logic: An Interview with Composer Tonia Ko

This Friday, October 5th, we bring you Tonia Ko’s Plain, Air…a riveting encounter with the Lake Michigan shoreline ecology that received its world premiere just three weeks ago at the Openlands Lakeshore Preserve.

We’ve fallen head-over-heels for this string-quartet-and-electronics piece, and to this day, we’re fielding exuberant emails and text messages from concertgoers, eager to tell us about their personal reverberations following this unique experience.

Reconditioning the String Quartet: An Interview with Wadada Leo Smith

Reconditioning the String Quartet: An Interview with Wadada Leo Smith

There are certain artists with whom you dream of coming into orbit, and Wadada Leo Smith is finally in our galaxy. Clara and I went to see his trio play Constellation a while back, when the Cubs were winning at sportsball or whatever – so it was a small house – and both of us were struck by the patience and nuance with which he infused his performance. Every note felt purposeful and considered, and more importantly, honest.

Escaping the Straightjackets of the Past: A Conversation with soprano Kiera Duffy

Escaping the Straightjackets of the Past: A Conversation with soprano Kiera Duffy

When we programmed Arnold Schoenberg's String Quartet No. 2 for this season, we decided to shoot for the moon in the soprano realm. We're still a little astonished that Kiera Duffy agreed to join us, given that the bands that typically lay claim to her calendar include the Berlin Philharmonic, Metropolitan Opera, and the Lyric Opera. In addition to a profound fluency in 20th century and contemporary music, we should say that Kiera is also a most chill hang. Rehearsals have been artistically stimulating, and also gut-bustingly entertaining. Schoenberg's 2nd is a life-and-perspective-altering piece for all of us, so we thought we'd ask her to go a little deeper on the subject.

Between Two Pianos: An Interview with Maeve Feinberg

Between Two Pianos: An Interview with Maeve Feinberg

This Friday, January 27th, marks the Chicago debut of our fantastic new violinist, Maeve Feinberg, and we thought you all might like to get a glimpse behind the scenes at what she's like...and why her personality is a perfect fit for our brand of skylarking. 


Doyle: So...Beethoven Op. 74, Ravel Quartet, and Dai Fujikura’s first quartet. We’re not exactly easing you into your first Chicago concert, are we?

Maeve: I want a raise.

DA: So this show is all about pieces that feature pizzicato. If you were going to get a finger tattoo, what would it look like?

MF: Well, they say you should never get tattoos on your hands but I’m thinking “FUJIKURA” across my knuckles would be suitable for this concert.

A League of Extraordinary Violinists (Part IV): James Lyon

A League of Extraordinary Violinists (Part IV): James Lyon

This violinist feature needs little-to-no introduction because it's Mr. Clara's Dad! We are very fortunate to be working with the exceptional James Lyon for our Ear Taxi shows, and given his role as violin prof. at Penn State, we expect to learn a thing or fifteen from the experience. Keep reading for string technique secrets, TMZ-level dirt on Clara, and some USDA Prime dad jokes. This run with Jim is going to be an absolute hoot!

Doyle Armbrust: Hi Jim! At one point in your career, you were a member of a quartet with a rather unusual framework. Can you tell us a bit about it?

James Lyon: Yes, for seven years I played in the Harrington String Quartet out in west Texas (insert obligatory yeehaw here).  HSQ had three missions: (1) to bring the glories of the string quartet repertoire to the good people of the Texas panhandle (B) to serve as string faculty at West Texas State University (now West Texas A&M) (3) to serve as principal players in the Amarillo Symphony (D) to go where no string quartet had gone before…whoops, NASA wanted us to keep that top secret! I guess I eventually got the proverbial seven year itch and we moved to beautiful central Pennsylvania where I have taught violin and chamber music for 25 years now! (insert nature sounds and the purr of a friendly mountain lion).  It was an honor to be associated with the fine musicians of the HSQ and we have remained friends as members have gone on to play in the St. Lawrence Quartet, the Montreal Symphony, San Francisco Opera, and the like.

A League of Extraordinary Violinists (Part III): Mathias Tacke

A League of Extraordinary Violinists (Part III): Mathias Tacke

For our first concert on the upcoming Ear Taxi Festival, we've been working feverishly on brand-new commissions from George Lewis, Tomeka Reid, and Samuel Adams with none other than Mathias Tacke. Mathias has been a coach of ours since the early days of Spektral, and his years as violinist with the (hometown heroes) Vermeer Quartet and Ensemble Modern have presented us with tremendous insights into repertoire new and old. He's also generally pretty quiet...until he comes out swinging with a zinger. It's been a true pleasure to work alongside a mentor, and we certainly threw a ton of music at him for our first foray together.


Doyle Armbrust: Hi Mathias! As one of our coaches in the early life of the quartet, you are a violinist we are particularly excited to be working with this fall. I'm wondering what it feels like to be sitting in with a string quartet after playing for so many years with the Vermeer?

Mathias Tacke: I am actually more aware of the many years - almost nine - without having a quartet, since the Vermeer retired in 2007.  It feels great to play with you guys - I do miss that life!

A League of Extraordinary Violinists (Part II): Eliot Heaton

A League of Extraordinary Violinists (Part II): Eliot Heaton

Next up in the cadre of phenomenal violinists sitting in with us at the top of this season is Eliot Heaton, who was recently named concertmaster of Michigan Opera Theatre. Before he launches into his first concert there (Bizet's Carmen), Eliot is joining us for our appearance at Hyde Park Jazz (9/24/16), during which we'll be world-premiering Miguel Zenón's Yo Soy La Tradición. We had an absurdly good time working with Eliot this summer for our Parks District project, and can't wait to dig into Miguel's blistering tunes with him.

What better way to introduce you to this incredible talent than through a chat with Eliot himself!