It’s crass, it’s low-brow, but yes, I said it.

Julius Fučík is known as the “Bohemian Sousa”. Like Sousa, he was a military band conductor and composer, and wrote prolifically. While many of his marches remain popular in Europe, the only march of his Americans really know is the Entrance of the Gladiators. Fučík wrote the piece with ancient Roman gladiators in mind, but unfortunately, it quickly became so strongly associated with circus clowns that it’s nearly impossible for us Americans to hear it without thinking of dancing elephants.

So whenever a certain clown makes a fool of himself and the nation he represents, just shout “Fučík!” at the top of your lungs, play this piece, and hope we all survive the next four years.

Joking aside, this march has a really cool trio section, starting at 1:25.

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.