A couple of weeks ago, I had the distinct pleasure of playing the violin in an orchestra while a friend of mine sang this beautiful aria from Richard Wagner‘s opera, Tannhäuser. This was a joy to me for three reasons:

1. The violin part was easy enough for me to play without noticeably screwing up.
2. My friend’s rich bass-baritone voice was like rich gravy on a perfectly roasted Thanksgiving turkey. (I love to compare music to food, by the way.)
3. Um, it’s WAGNER!

This famous aria is often used to introduce young musicians (singers and instrumentalists alike) to Wagner. Unlike earlier scene-and-aria operas, Wagner’s arias are difficult to extract from the action of the opera. In an 18th century opera, there are very clear beginnings and ends to pieces; by the mid-19th-century, composer like Wagner blurred those lines, which allowed the action and music to flow seamlessly from one scene to the next. So it’s rare to find a piece like “O du mein holder Abendstern” – a complete aria, with a clear beginning and end, with poetic words that can be taken out of the action and not lose its integrity.

Tannhäuser was one of Wagner’s early operas, but the sound of this aria really captures the essence of his musical legacy – at least, the softer side of it.

When I hear the word “Abendstern” (Evening Star), I can’t help but think of the brightness of its opposite, the “Morgenstern” (Morning Star.)

There are a plethora of compositions extolling the beauty of spring, but significantly fewer celebrate the arrival of summer. There’s magic in the reawakening of earth, but once the trees are in bloom, it’s business as usual? Not so!

While not specifically about summer, the cheerfulness of Beethoven‘s Pastoral Symphony captures this month perfectly. The magical transformation of spring might be past, but the beauty of nature in full bloom awaits! Maybe a little Beethoven will put you in the mood. In the first movement of the symphony, he masterfully paints a scene that transports the listener to the green, serene countryside.

Today marks the 27th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Massacre.

We generally think of music and the arts as a pastime – as something we do to relax or forget about the “real world.” Yet at the same time, people quickly become enraged and offended when a work of art or music challenges their beliefs or pushes us out of our comfort zone. Governments and political leaders are very aware of this – music is carefully selected, created, and packaged to support their ideology. And artists that oppose powerful leaders – quietly or overtly – often find themselves shunned, banned, threatened, or worse.

This sort of thing can happen anywhere, dictatorship or democracy, ancient or modern, north or south, east or west. Thinking about that iconic, chilling picture from Tiananmen Square, let’s look at Chinese-American composer Chen Yi.

Chen was born in China, at a time when it was dangerous to be a musician there. The Cultural Revolution frowned upon the arts, especially any music that sounded “western”. She put a blanket in her piano and muted her violin so she could practice without the authorities hearing her. When she was 15, her family’s possessions were confiscated, and they were forced to labor in the country as part of the government’s anti-bourgeois efforts. Against these odds, Chen still managed to earn a Master’s in music and become a world-famous, Pulitzer-prize winning composer – as an American citizen.