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She Became FireFriday July 5, 2024, 7 pm Eastern
St. John's in the Village Episcopal Church 218 W 11th St., New York, NY 10014 Join Dr. Lisa Neher, Portland's New Music Mezzo, in concert with with pianist Nacho Ojeda and flutist Emily Duncan for a program of contemporary songs about social justice, feminism, loss, and love.
What is the American dream, and who is it for? Danielle Jagelski's gichi-mookomaan ("United States") delves into these questions by setting interviews with citizens of the tribal nations to music. Drew Swatosh's unaccompanied song "Riots" (poetry of Carolyn Quick) faces violent police responses to protest, while in Lisa Neher and Bea Goodwin's Scottish-folksong-infused she conjures, a young woman seeks justice after her mother is burned at the stake but questions whether justice or revenge was truly done. Gabriela Lena Frank's Cuatro Canciones Andinas (Four Andean Songs) explore themes of departure, loss, and magic, setting traditional Peruvian poetry translated into Spanish by José María Arguedas. A woman explores the magic of self-healing and growth after trauma in Melissa Dunphy and Nikita Gill's song cycle Four Poems of Nikita Gill. Volume (a world premiere on this program), words and music by Carolyn Quick evokes the freedom and joy of hair and through that, the self. And Gilbert Galindo's ¡Víctor, Catarina!, which sets the words of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, a 17th-Century Mexican nun, boldly celebrates feminism and challenges the patriarchy of Church and society. |
Program
gichi-mookomaan-aki ("United States") music by Danielle Olana Jagelski, words from interviews with citizens of tribal nations
I. "american" History
II. Sovereignty
III. The Flag
IV. Learn Something for Me (Grandmother)
V. Grandfather
Dead Fires Anthology: "Riots" (World Premiere) music by Drew Swatosh, poetry by Carolyn Quick
she conjures, music by Lisa Neher, libretto by Bea Goodwin
i. incantation
ii. Familiar
iii. conjuring
iv. guilty
Cuatro Canciones Andinas, music by Gabriela Lena Frank, setting traditional Peruvian poetry translated into Spanish by José María Arguedas
I. Despedida
II. Yo Crío Una Mosca
III. Carnaval de Tambobamba
IV. Yunca
Four Poems of Nikita Gill, music by Melissa Dunphy, poetry by Nikita Gill
I. Sorcery
II. From Ashes She Became Fire
III. You Have Become a Forest
Volume (World Premiere), music and poetry by Carolyn Quick
¡Víctor, Catarina!, music by Gilbert Galindo, words by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz
I. "american" History
II. Sovereignty
III. The Flag
IV. Learn Something for Me (Grandmother)
V. Grandfather
Dead Fires Anthology: "Riots" (World Premiere) music by Drew Swatosh, poetry by Carolyn Quick
she conjures, music by Lisa Neher, libretto by Bea Goodwin
i. incantation
ii. Familiar
iii. conjuring
iv. guilty
Cuatro Canciones Andinas, music by Gabriela Lena Frank, setting traditional Peruvian poetry translated into Spanish by José María Arguedas
I. Despedida
II. Yo Crío Una Mosca
III. Carnaval de Tambobamba
IV. Yunca
Four Poems of Nikita Gill, music by Melissa Dunphy, poetry by Nikita Gill
I. Sorcery
II. From Ashes She Became Fire
III. You Have Become a Forest
Volume (World Premiere), music and poetry by Carolyn Quick
¡Víctor, Catarina!, music by Gilbert Galindo, words by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz
Texts & Translations
gichi-mookomaan-aki ("United States")
music by Danielle Olana Jagelski
texts from interviews from members of the tribal nations
I. "american" History
Are there conversations going on about the telling of American History?
I mean, is that actually a thing?
I am unaware.
I am aware of all the critical race theory stuff going on.
But, it is never from a decolonized mind set.
I want to the see the truth.
The truth about people of color.
Decolonize the whole damn system.
II. Sovereignty
A sovereign nation within bounds of a larger one;
But we try to practice our ways - our rights.
A sovereign nation and we try to practice our ways our rights.
A sovereign nation we claim to have sovereignty
but we must stay in the guidelines they impose on us
that envelope us.
the illusion of freedom
III. The Flag "taps"
Every day we stop
You stop and turn and watch.
The flag caref'lly taken down.
You stop.
And turn.
And watch.
the flag.
but, do they stop
and look and watch
to see if they respect me?
IV. Learn Something For Me
My Grandmother, left to care for them;
her parents she was like twelve years old.
The Native way,
Always, take care of your elders
But Grandmother said; said to me
every day, Always, you go,
get up and every day, Always,
“Go learn something for me.”
Oh
Ah
She said every day,
Always, you go,
get up and every day,
Always,
“Go learn something for me.”
Oh
Ah
V. Grandfather
He was seventy eight; you know, you work your whole life;
You give and give
give and give,
you give, and you give.
and you give
He was seventy eight - a lumberjack - he worked until the day he died.
to pay for her medicine
you give and you give and you give.
He gave for her heart, to pay for her heart
This is not what the American dream is.
You give, and you give, and you give
you give and you give.
give, and you give, and you give
"Riots" from the Dead Fires Anthology
music by Drew Swatosh
poem by Carolyn Quick
It doesn’t seem to end:
Any and all
of it
Can’t seem to break
free from this God-forsaken
Loop,
free of the deafening
Cries and explosions
of it,
Any and all of it
The smoke doesn’t seem to clear.
It doesn’t seem to end:
Any and all
of it
Clusters provoking barricades provoking
federal pangs and they are
Lashed
for insubordination -
City inflamed and the sting of it,
Any and all of it;
The gas makes me cry too.
music by Danielle Olana Jagelski
texts from interviews from members of the tribal nations
I. "american" History
Are there conversations going on about the telling of American History?
I mean, is that actually a thing?
I am unaware.
I am aware of all the critical race theory stuff going on.
But, it is never from a decolonized mind set.
I want to the see the truth.
The truth about people of color.
Decolonize the whole damn system.
II. Sovereignty
A sovereign nation within bounds of a larger one;
But we try to practice our ways - our rights.
A sovereign nation and we try to practice our ways our rights.
A sovereign nation we claim to have sovereignty
but we must stay in the guidelines they impose on us
that envelope us.
the illusion of freedom
III. The Flag "taps"
Every day we stop
You stop and turn and watch.
The flag caref'lly taken down.
You stop.
And turn.
And watch.
the flag.
but, do they stop
and look and watch
to see if they respect me?
IV. Learn Something For Me
My Grandmother, left to care for them;
her parents she was like twelve years old.
The Native way,
Always, take care of your elders
But Grandmother said; said to me
every day, Always, you go,
get up and every day, Always,
“Go learn something for me.”
Oh
Ah
She said every day,
Always, you go,
get up and every day,
Always,
“Go learn something for me.”
Oh
Ah
V. Grandfather
He was seventy eight; you know, you work your whole life;
You give and give
give and give,
you give, and you give.
and you give
He was seventy eight - a lumberjack - he worked until the day he died.
to pay for her medicine
you give and you give and you give.
He gave for her heart, to pay for her heart
This is not what the American dream is.
You give, and you give, and you give
you give and you give.
give, and you give, and you give
"Riots" from the Dead Fires Anthology
music by Drew Swatosh
poem by Carolyn Quick
It doesn’t seem to end:
Any and all
of it
Can’t seem to break
free from this God-forsaken
Loop,
free of the deafening
Cries and explosions
of it,
Any and all of it
The smoke doesn’t seem to clear.
It doesn’t seem to end:
Any and all
of it
Clusters provoking barricades provoking
federal pangs and they are
Lashed
for insubordination -
City inflamed and the sting of it,
Any and all of it;
The gas makes me cry too.
she conjures
music by Lisa Neher
libretto by Bea Goodwin
I. incantation
Mama,
Ye’ left an echo
A beckon from beyond.
Incantation
on Mother’s last breath
cast a spell of endless snow--
Freeze their wheat, no bread to eat!
Split a sail with hunks of hail!
An incantation
Endless snow...
Mama, accused of the unthinkable; a poppet of Father! Poppets are Devil’s work—why would the
Magistrate blame my Mother? Perhaps he had somethin’ to do with it!
— I know! I’ll fetch Mother’s familiar. He can crawl into his chimney and be my spy!
II. familiar
Hello Caraid!
I bet other crows get green-eyed when ye’ come inside!
Grissall extends her arm. Caraid perches, she holds her arm in front of her so they can chat. He looks for Mother
I’m sorry--
Yer Master, my Mother,
‘as been burned alive.
Why?
When women ‘re born
from the rib of the land,
with their spirits,
mysterious as fog,
the men who hold gavels
hold daggers, hunt witches...
So, I’ll be yer Master,
yer Mother now.
Listen closely, will ye’ ?
Wing way to the Magistrate’s House.
Perch on ‘is chimney
then go, fly inside
as I cast a little spell--
III. conjuring
Hecate, come to me
Bella donna and bilberry
the flesh of fruit from a yew tree
Maiden, Mother, Crone
Grant me eyes of the crow
Ah, would ye’ look at that...
Perched on the smoke shelf,
Perfect view!
He's hunched over
Closer, Caraid, Closer
Closer
There it is!
Now swoop down,
put that into his pocket!
IV. guilty
Everyone! Everyone, gather ‘round! The Magistrate ‘as been doin’ the Devil’s bidding! He accused my
Mother of keepin’ poppets, while I know very well he has one in his own coat pocket!
Ye’ see!? Do you believe me now?
Yes! That’s it!
Cast yer stones!
Let the blood of judgment
stain the snow!
The snow!
It’s... stopped
Mama
No magic, no justice
Could restore what was stolen.
But oh, Ye wouldn't think--
hands that burn women
are stained with Devil’s ink!
music by Lisa Neher
libretto by Bea Goodwin
I. incantation
Mama,
Ye’ left an echo
A beckon from beyond.
Incantation
on Mother’s last breath
cast a spell of endless snow--
Freeze their wheat, no bread to eat!
Split a sail with hunks of hail!
An incantation
Endless snow...
Mama, accused of the unthinkable; a poppet of Father! Poppets are Devil’s work—why would the
Magistrate blame my Mother? Perhaps he had somethin’ to do with it!
— I know! I’ll fetch Mother’s familiar. He can crawl into his chimney and be my spy!
II. familiar
Hello Caraid!
I bet other crows get green-eyed when ye’ come inside!
Grissall extends her arm. Caraid perches, she holds her arm in front of her so they can chat. He looks for Mother
I’m sorry--
Yer Master, my Mother,
‘as been burned alive.
Why?
When women ‘re born
from the rib of the land,
with their spirits,
mysterious as fog,
the men who hold gavels
hold daggers, hunt witches...
So, I’ll be yer Master,
yer Mother now.
Listen closely, will ye’ ?
Wing way to the Magistrate’s House.
Perch on ‘is chimney
then go, fly inside
as I cast a little spell--
III. conjuring
Hecate, come to me
Bella donna and bilberry
the flesh of fruit from a yew tree
Maiden, Mother, Crone
Grant me eyes of the crow
Ah, would ye’ look at that...
Perched on the smoke shelf,
Perfect view!
He's hunched over
Closer, Caraid, Closer
Closer
There it is!
Now swoop down,
put that into his pocket!
IV. guilty
Everyone! Everyone, gather ‘round! The Magistrate ‘as been doin’ the Devil’s bidding! He accused my
Mother of keepin’ poppets, while I know very well he has one in his own coat pocket!
Ye’ see!? Do you believe me now?
Yes! That’s it!
Cast yer stones!
Let the blood of judgment
stain the snow!
The snow!
It’s... stopped
Mama
No magic, no justice
Could restore what was stolen.
But oh, Ye wouldn't think--
hands that burn women
are stained with Devil’s ink!
Cuatro Canciones Andinas
music by Gabriela Lena Frank
Traditional Peruvian poetry translated into Spanish by José María Arguedas
music by Gabriela Lena Frank
Traditional Peruvian poetry translated into Spanish by José María Arguedas
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I. Despedida
Hoy es el día de mi partida hoy no me iré, me iré mañana. Me veréis salir tocando una flauta de hueso de mosca, llevando por bandera una tela de araña; sera mi tambor un huevo de hormiga, ¡y mi montera! mi montera sera un nido de picaflor. II. Yo crío una mosca
Yo crío una mosca de alas de oro, yo crío una mosca de ojos encendidos. Trae la muerte en sus ojos de fuego trae la muerte en sus cabellitos de oro en sus alas hermosas. En una botella de gingerale yo la crío nadie sabe si bebe nadie sabe si come. Vaga en las noches como una Estrella hieremortalmente con su resplandor rojo con sus ojos de fuego. En sus ojos de fuego lleva el amor, fulgura en la noche su sangre el amor que trae en el corazón. Nocturno insect, mosca portadora de la muerte en una botella verde, yo la crío, amándola tanto. Pero ¡eso si! ¡eso sí! nadie sabe si le doy de beber nadie sabe si le doy de comer! III. Carnaval de Tambobamba
Un río de sangre Ha arrastrado al joven tambobambino. Él ha muerto. Sólo su quena está flotando sólo su poncho está flotando sólo su charango está flotando sobre la corriente. Y la jovena que él amaba está llorando en las orillas. Su idolatrada amante llora en las orillas. Su adorada está llorando. ¡Huífalitay, huífala! ¡Huífalalálay, huífala! ¡Huífala! Él ya no existe. Un cóndor mira desde los cielos, dando vueltas. Busca al joven tambobambino. No lo encontrará jamás. Un río de sangre, el río sangriente lo arrastró, lo envolvió. Su adorada está llorando. ¡Huífalitay, huífala! ¡Huífalalálay, huífala! ¡Huífala! Sólo su quena está flotando solo su poncho está flotando solo su charango está flotando sobre la corriente. ¡Huífalitay, huífala! ¡Huífalalálay, huífala! ¡Huífala! IV. Yunca
¿Adónde vas, padre mío? Voy a la gran selva, voy caminando. ¿A qué vas, quién te lleva? Cosecharé la dulce coca, voy solo. ¡Vuelve pronto, vuelve pronto! En la montaña por donde pasas una bandera negra flamea. ¡Qué corazón, que corazón amargo! Campanita de Paucartambo tócame, Yo voy a la gran selva, no volveré jamás |
I. Leave-Taking
Today is the day of my departure, today I will not go, I will go tomorrow. You may see me leave playing a flute of the bone of a fly, carrying for a banner a spider web, my drum will be an egg of an ant, and my cap! my cap will be a hummingbird’s nest. II. I am nursing a fly
I am nursing a fly of wings of gold, I am nursing a fly of inflamed eyes. It carries death in its eyes of fire, it carries death on its little hairs of gold, on its beautiful wings. In a bottle of ginger ale I nurse it, nobody knows if it drinks, nobody knows if it eats. It roams at night like a star, it wounds mortally with its red splendor, with its eyes of fire. In its eyes of fire it carries love, its blood flashes in the night the love that it carries in its heart. Nocturnal insect, fly bearer of death in a green bottle, I nurse it, loving it very much. But there! there! nobody knows if I give it drink nobody knows if I give it food. III. Tambobamba Carnaval
A river of blood has dragged down the young man of Tambobamba. He has died. Only his flute is floating only his poncho is floating only his small guitar is floating along the current. And the girl whom he loved is weeping along the banks. His idolized sweetheart weeps along the banks. His adored one is weeping. ¡Huífalitay, huífala! ¡Huífalalálay, huífala! ¡Huífala! Now he does not exist. A condor watches from the skies, wheeling around, he looks for the young man of Tambobamba. He will never find him. A river of blood, a bloody river has dragged him down, enveloped him. His adored one is weeping. ¡Huífalitay, huífala! ¡Huífalalálay, huífala! ¡Huífala! Only his flute is floating only his poncho is floating only his small guitar is floating along the current. ¡Huífalitay, huífala! ¡Huífalalálay, huífala! ¡Huífala! IV. Yunca
Where are you going, my father? I am going to the great forest, I am going walking. To what place do you go, who calls you? I will reap the sweet coca, I am going alone. Come back soon! In the mountain by the way you pass a black flag is fluttering. What a bitter heart, what a bitter heart! Little bell of Paucartambo, toll for me, I am going to the great forest, I will never return. --Translations by Ruth Wilson |
Four Poems of Nikita Gill
music by Melissa Dunphy
poetry by Nikita Gill
I. Sorcery
for Lindsey Bower
Every day I magic myself alive again
from the near death experience of trauma.
I swallow my heart back from
the lump it has become in my throat.
I taste my own memories
without the flavour of blood but as poetry.
I learn how to whisper my name
without it sounding like a curse.
I murmur spells to the parts of me
others have found too dangerous to love.
And after this morning ritual
I finally smile at the woman in my mirror.
Tell me again,
how healing is not a magical thing.
Tell me again,
how I am not made of sorcery.
II. From The Ashes She Became
for Lara Connally
Before she became fire, she was water.
Quenching the thirst of every dying creature.
She gave and she gave
until she turned from sea to desert.
But instead of dying of the heat,
the sadness, the heartache,
she took all of her pain
and from her own ashes became fire.
III. You Have Become a Forest
for Emily Lancon
One day when you wake up, you will find that you
have become a forest. You have grown roots and
found strength in them that no one thought you
had. You have become stronger and more beautiful,
full of life giving qualities. You have learned to take
all the negativity around you and turn it into
oxygen for easy breathing. A host of wild creatures
live inside you and you call them stories. A variety
of beautiful birds rest inside your mind and you call
them memories. You have become an incredible self
sustaining thing of epic proportions. And you
should be so proud of yourself, of how far you have
come from the seeds of who you used to be.
music by Melissa Dunphy
poetry by Nikita Gill
I. Sorcery
for Lindsey Bower
Every day I magic myself alive again
from the near death experience of trauma.
I swallow my heart back from
the lump it has become in my throat.
I taste my own memories
without the flavour of blood but as poetry.
I learn how to whisper my name
without it sounding like a curse.
I murmur spells to the parts of me
others have found too dangerous to love.
And after this morning ritual
I finally smile at the woman in my mirror.
Tell me again,
how healing is not a magical thing.
Tell me again,
how I am not made of sorcery.
II. From The Ashes She Became
for Lara Connally
Before she became fire, she was water.
Quenching the thirst of every dying creature.
She gave and she gave
until she turned from sea to desert.
But instead of dying of the heat,
the sadness, the heartache,
she took all of her pain
and from her own ashes became fire.
III. You Have Become a Forest
for Emily Lancon
One day when you wake up, you will find that you
have become a forest. You have grown roots and
found strength in them that no one thought you
had. You have become stronger and more beautiful,
full of life giving qualities. You have learned to take
all the negativity around you and turn it into
oxygen for easy breathing. A host of wild creatures
live inside you and you call them stories. A variety
of beautiful birds rest inside your mind and you call
them memories. You have become an incredible self
sustaining thing of epic proportions. And you
should be so proud of yourself, of how far you have
come from the seeds of who you used to be.
Volume (World Premiere)
words and music by Carolyn Quick
words and music by Carolyn Quick
My hair is shorter
now.
Like fields of wheat, once a voluminous
cascade
it used to rove in the wind–
hanging linens,
fluid
like ribbons–
as I,
a golden wash
roared passion into
incandescence;
Before,
my mind wandered paths that lead to
Samson,
Delilah’s curse and I
feared–
feared the loss of the power of my
roar;
But now,
I merely question:
which tongue has coaxed my sullen mane
to remain
in spite of cords clean-cut and
silenced–
Perhaps it was only mine.
now.
Like fields of wheat, once a voluminous
cascade
it used to rove in the wind–
hanging linens,
fluid
like ribbons–
as I,
a golden wash
roared passion into
incandescence;
Before,
my mind wandered paths that lead to
Samson,
Delilah’s curse and I
feared–
feared the loss of the power of my
roar;
But now,
I merely question:
which tongue has coaxed my sullen mane
to remain
in spite of cords clean-cut and
silenced–
Perhaps it was only mine.
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¡Víctor, Catarina!
music by Gilbert Galindo poem by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz ¡Víctor, víctor Catarina, que con su ciencia divina los sabios ha convencido, y victoriosa ha salido --con su ciencia soberana-- de la arrogancia profana que a convencerla ha venido! ¡Víctor, víctor, víctor! De una Mujer se convencen todos los Sabios de Egipto, para prueba de que el sexo no es escencia en lo entendido. ¡Víctor, víctor! No se avergüenzan los Sabios de mirarse convencidos; porque saben, como Sabios, que su saber es finito. ¡Víctor, víctor! Estudia, arguye y enseña, y es de la Iglesia servicio, que no la quiere ignorante El que racional la hizo. ¡Víctor, víctor! Nunca de varón ilustre Triunfo igual habemos visto; y es que quiso Dios en ella honrar el sexo femíneo. ¡Víctor, víctor! Perdióse (¡oh dolor!) la forma de sus doctors silogismos: pero, los que no con tinta, Dejó con su sangre escritos. ¡Víctor, víctor! Tutelar sacra Patrona, es de las Letras Asilo; Porque siempre ilustre Sabios, quien Santos de Sabios hizo. ¡Víctor, víctor! |
Victorious Catherine
Victorious Catherine! Who, with her divine science Has convinced the wise And has emerged victorious –with her sovereign science– From their profane arrogance Which would come to convince her! Victor, victor, victor! All the Wise Men of Egypt Are convinced by a woman As proof that sex is not the essence of intelligence. Victor, victor! The Wise are not ashamed To look convinced Because, as Wise Men, they know That their knowledge is finite. Victor, victor! She studies, argues, and teaches, And this is how she serves the Church. For He who made her rational does not want her to be ignorant. Victor, victor! Never have we seen an illustrious Man triumph equally; And it is this that God wanted through her: To honor the female sex. Victor, victor! The form of her wise reasoning was lost (oh sorrow!); But, though they were not written with ink, She left with her blood writings. Victor, victor! Tutelary Sacred Patroness She is the Asylum of Literature; In as much as she always lifts up the Wise, She makes Saints of Wise Men. Victor, victor! --Translation by Lisa Neher |
About the Artists
Dr. Lisa Neher, Mezzo-Soprano & Composer
Dr. Lisa Neher (she/her, “NEER”) is an award-winning composer and new music mezzo on a mission to transform audiences through sound, story, and vulnerability. With a voice praised as “full and rich” and “especially alive” (Oregon ArtsWatch), Neher’s performance credits include Third Angle New Music, Really Spicy Opera, Portland Columbia Symphony Orchestra, Opera Theatre Oregon, New Music Gathering, Resonance Ensemble, Experiments in Opera, Renegade Opera, and Big Mouth Society. She is a member of Portland Opera Chorus and President of New Wave Opera.
Described as a “supremely talented,” “visionary composer” (Willamette Week), “maestro of beautifully wacky noises” (Oregon ArtsWatch) and author of “liquid, impressionist piano writing and fluent melding” of voices (New York Classical Review), Neher’s compositions are inspired by the climate crisis, the tender love of family and friends, and the eerie mystery of deep ocean life. She is Composer in Residence for the Beaverton Community Band. She has been commissioned and performed by the National Association of Teachers of Singing, Cincinnati Song Initiative, Third Angle New Music, FearNoMusic, Dinosaur Annex, New Opera West, Mirror Visions Ensemble, Alma Ensemble, Opera Elect, and Opera Santa Barbara, among others. Her awards include the Flute New Music Consortium Competition, ICDA/ICF Choral Competition, Mirror Visions Ensemble Young Composer Competition and the Celebris Ensemble Choral Competition. www.lisanehermusic.com. |
Nacho Ojeda, Pianist
Nacho Ojeda is a musician, pianist and interdisciplinary performer based in New York City. Born in Sevilla, Spain in 1995, he began his studies at the age of 5. He earned his Bachelor of Music in piano performance in the Royal Conservatory of Music of Madrid and a Master of Music in classical piano performance in the Sibelius Academy in Helsinki, Finland, as well as a master’s in Contemporary Performance in the Manhattan School of Music under renowned musicians Peggy Kampmeier and Anthony de Mare.
Nacho is deeply interested in the music of our time and the inventive possibilities New Music provides in terms of performance and collaboration among artists of different disciplines. He understands composition, performance and improvisation as three sides of the same process – music-making – and approaches music with passion and intention regardless of its genre. He has inspired and premiered works by Colombian composer Samuel Torres, Wong Foo Jeng, Luis McDougal, among many other composers in the New York City scene. Additionally, he has premiered several works from leading Spanish and Latin-American composers with friend and violinist María Muñoz, including pieces by Agustín González Acilu, Miguel Bustamante, Pedro Guajardo, Roberto Mosquera, Jorge Grundman, Eduardo Costa, and Miguel Ángel Santaella, in addition to collaborating with many more during his time in Madrid. In the New Music opera scene, he was part of the world premiere production of the stage version of Ruby Fulton’s opera “Adam’s Run”, as well as having been the lead keyboardist and harpsichordist in the world premiere of the microtonal opera “Flash Flash: The Two Deaths of Andy Warhol”, composed by Finnish composer Juhani Nuorvala. |
Emily Duncan, Flute
Flutist and producer Emily Duncan is an electrifying, theatrical artist creating new musical experiences that live at the intersection of music, technology, theater, and art. As a fierce champion of contemporary music, Emily almost exclusively performs music by living composers. She has worked with David Lang, Thomas Adés, Nathalie Joachim, Kathleen Supové, Maya Beiser, Evan Ziporyn, Kaija Saariaho, and Nadia Sirota. She has recently performed with Lizzo at the 2023 Met Gala and toured with the bands Hawthorne Heights and Escape the Fate. Her debut album Woolf at the Door, featuring the music of Randall Woolf, will be released later this year.
As a theater-maker, Emily has served as the music supervisor for PasticheNYC's Persuasion (2021) and House of Mirth (2023) and was a producer for the Off-Broadway premiere engagement of SCOUTS (2023). She recently worked as a music consultant for the 2023 industry presentation of Crashlight, featuring Mykal Kilgore and Lianah Sta. Ana. In 2022, Emily founded the web app GigCrunch to help freelance musicians take back control of their finances and ensure they are being paid fairly. Emily is a graduate of The University of Iowa and The Juilliard School. To keep up with Emily’s projects, please visit https://www.rebelflute.com |
Press Kit
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