Hearing music about immigrants and gay boys

This photo is from a lecture in the class "Hidden Figures in Early Christianity" discussing the behavior of the dominant voices in antiquity, particularly public artwork representing other nations as sad, passive women holding up strong men. I thought it was relevant.

All artists have a purpose. The most influential artists have power. Most of us are comfortable with this sentiment. The most impactful artists have an agenda. This is what troubles the casual listener.

During my time in Nordic Choir this last year, we had the unique experience of preparing a full-scale oratorio titled "Considering Matthew Shepard," a work describing the tragic story of the murder of a young gay man. Harder yet, the work discussed the aftermath of the media, the backlash, the confrontation, the forgiveness, and the desire to move forward.

As performers, doing this work was difficult. Many of the LGBTQ+ members of Nordic Choir reflected their own emotions about their worldly experiences and presented excerpts of this work to audiences in the American South over our tour in Texas. Although we had an overwhelmingly positive and powerful response from the majority of our audience members, we had a few instances of clear pushback.

After our runout, an alumnus emailed our director asking why we were singing about a gay boy that did nothing to serve the country (quoting from the Book of Matt, a largely discredited narrative about the notion that Matthew was a drug dealer) and that Nordic shouldn't be pushing an agenda on individuals wanting to hear Nordic sing nice music. The sentiments a more brash casual listener can be summarized in an aggressive comment from an audience member to our director after a concert in Missouri: "I didn't come to hear a concert about immigrant children and gay boys."

Did we perform some beautiful music with more universal messages that are fun to sing and hear? Yes, we love ourselves some PJ Christiansen and Vaughan Williams. They help complete our message. Choral programming is now a balancing act of showcasing the traditions of the past while making space for new voices. Sometimes, audiences aren’t ready to hear them. Historically, this is normal. Thus, I write.

In the midst of this tightrope, I fully believe that our director didn't entirely build this rich program for the casual listener. That's a good thing. I personally believe that building a program for casual listening has numbed the voices of the composers, therefore numbing the interpretation of the performer and losing the purpose for the composition among the audience. Here's why:

This idea of programming music exclusively for the entertainment of the listener and teaching fundamental devices of music stems back to people in Medieval, Baroque, and Classical music. People like Bach and Vivaldi were hired to write music for the church and their students. Do we love Bach? Hell yes. His music is incredibly fun to sing, and the traditional audiences pine for the nostalgia of timeless music. That’s why folks in the 19th Century decided that Bach was “music for the sake of making music.” However, we see a major shift in the perspectives around music when Beethoven is cited as a vehicle for the Word of God to his audiences.

But many great works of art in the 19th and 20th century stemmed from the radical outcries from oppression. Shostakovich and Stravinsky wrote music with sentiments of rebellion against the Russian government; each of them made their impact on Russian instrumental performance and ballet for the centuries to come. Much of the modern musical devices in our modern "casual listening" stemmed from spirituals from enslaved folks in the South.

This got me thinking about my conversation with another choral musician about the concept of choral spirituals. Teachers love to program them because they add diversity to a program and teach students about the specific rhythms and articulations needed for the genre, and the students retain joy from making that cool music together. That's what makes it purposeful. Thanks to the genius of composers such as Stacey V. Gibbs and William Dawson, many audiences love to hear them because they are fun to listen to and they can sing them in their head after they leave. That's what makes them influential.

However, when programmed in a way that sees beyond the coded language of Christian spirituality when discussing the atrocities and fears concerning slavery; that's what makes them impactful. How do we as a predominantly White choir capture the voices of these people when singing “Great God Almighty”? How do we talk about Beethoven’s grief when he lost his hearing while discussing the atrocities of ableism in Runestad’s “A Silence Haunts Me”? How do we talk about immigrants and gay boys? Yes, it is hard to amplify voices without speaking over them. Certainly not programming for the casual listener. But we try.

Out of all people, Weston Noble knew how to program pieces to leave an impact. The man loved music. It was his form of fellowship, prayer, and discipleship. He had an agenda with his concerts: to have the audience leave with the love of God that he possessed in his heart.

Of course the music he produced sounded lovely, everywhere from Bach to Christiansen to Hogan. People liked listening to the Nordic Choir sing because they were skillful and powerful. But the music was so much more than that for Weston. He used the gift of music from these composers to put out his own message.

As for our current director, Dr. Last not only wanted to impact audiences of all generations; he wanted for us to put our collective voice as young musicians to make our own impact. And right now, we're making a statement that a particularly disgruntled man in Missouri who came as a casual listener. And yes, we love singing Bach and Sweelinck, making music for the sake of making music. We sing to outline their interests as well. We added the voices of other testimonies as well, testimonies that speak to us now. In my opinion, the listener coming to hear the status quo of choral music clearly didn't come to hear the legacy of Nordic Choir. We reach above and beyond.

I'll say this as an individual artist from this larger body known as Nordic Choir: I'm grateful as a musician to move into another generation of music with the fire from brilliant composers in tow. I get to contribute to an almost 75 year legacy of college students wanting to leave an impact. I'm grateful for the folks that housed me in Ft. Worth and said that they thought the experience was so unique and special that they came to our next stop. I'm proud of the impact the 2019-20 Nordic Choir made, and I'm even more excited to hear the new collective voice of Nordic Choir 2020-21. We have a purpose to serve as a voice in a time of uncertainty. We have power because many individuals look to choral artists across the country for innovation. And yes, we as artists will have an agenda. And whatever it is, it will trouble the casual listener. Because it will be impactful.