Igor Stravinsky is not a composer i know terribly well, and honestly, that bothers me a bit. More than a bit, really. Stravinsky is considered to be the major bridge composer between the Romantic era and the Modern one. His art has its roots in the 19th century, but most of his work is fully conceived in the 20th, but it’s not generally as hard to crack, in my experience, as is the work of other Modernists like, say, Schoenberg, Berg, and later avant garde voices like Cage. Stravinsky worked in recognizable forms, for the most part, and his ballet music–perhaps his most famous and familiar works–represent some of the most starkly dramatic work for stage dance ever written. The Rite of Spring actually provoked a riot at its premiere, so there’s that.
Written for a ballet that was in turn based on Russian mythology and legend, The Firebird is one of Stravinsky’s most enduringly popular works. It comes fairly early in his career, and thus he was only just starting his life-long evolution into full-on Modernism. (Born in 1882, Stravinsky died roughly five months before I was born in 1971!) The Firebird tells its story with startlingly evocative orchestral writing, and it is by turns exotic and suggestive, weaving a spell with sonic imagery that borders on the purely impressionistic. While I don’t know Stravinsky well as a whole, The Firebird has endured in the repertoire for a reason.
Also popular is one of the three shorter orchestral suites Stravinsky culled from the pages of the entire ballet. This suite, the middle of the three, was put together by Stravinsky in 1919, and despite his later insistence that the score was riddled with errors, it it the 1919 suite that has endured of the three suites he created from the entire ballet. I do recommend the entire ballet; it’s only about 45 minutes long, which does make me wonder why Stravinsky felt the need for abridgements at all.
Some of the moodier music in The Firebird would later serve as partial inspiration for composer Cliff Eidelman, when he was tapped to score Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country.








Two anniversaries
One somber, one celebratory.
The first one happened three years ago today. The Wife and I were vacationing in the Finger Lakes region that weekend, and we got back to our cottage after a day visiting the Glass Museum in Corning (or maybe we were in Ithaca that day, and Corning the next)…we checked social media for the first time in hours, and I found multiple messages from people asking if I was safe because they knew I worked at a grocery store in Buffalo. That’s when I was horrified to learn that some racist lunatic decided to arm himself to the teeth, drive to a grocery store in Buffalo that he knew would be mainly frequented by Black people, and open fire.
It remains one of the most horrific days in local history, and will likely continue to be one for many years to come. And I can’t help contrasting that day, and the feelings that followed it, with the climate in this country right now as our elected leaders, placed in power by us, work hard to eliminate “DEI!” and “Woke!” and…look, we all know what that means, don’t we.
Buffalo poet laureate Jillian Hanesworth, who is an enormously gifted voice, wrote this poem in remembrance. It was printed large on the wall of an exhibit at the Buffalo AKG Museum for a while. (I might have my own photo of it, but I can’t find it right now.)
It’s also important to remember, and name, the lives taken that day in the name of hatred and fear and simple blind stupidity:
Roberta A. Drury
Margus D. Morrison
Andre Mackneil
Aaron Salter
Geraldine Talley
Celestine Chaney
Heyward Patterson
Katherine Massey
Pearl Young
Ruth Whitfield
May their memories be blessings for all who knew them…and for those of us who only learned their names when they ended.
UPDATE: I found my photos of the exhibit at the AKG. You can see them here. I somehow never actually uploaded them to Flickr. It was a beautiful and powerful exhibit, and I regret my oversight in not getting these photos posted.
:: On a happier note, today is the 81st birthday of one of the most important forces in my creative life, a man without whose work there is zero chance I’d be the person I am today.
Happy birthday, George Lucas!