Music theorist and social dancer Rebecca Simpson-Litke brings tango music and dance together through the current interdisciplinary lens of choreomusical analysis. As she explores the connection between movement and music through her transcriptions and analyses of Juan Carlos Copes’s choreography of the famous “La cumparsita,” she shows how music and dance reinforce or complement each other through rhythm.

Historian Matthew Karush delves into tango’s role in Argentina’s political and social history. He specifically analyzes how the art form functioned within Peronism and anti-Peronism of the mid-to-late half of the twentieth century as he seeks to understand how the tango is reflected in the political climate in Argentina through time and amid political upheaval.

As health professionals, Madeleine E. Hackney and J. Lucas McKay demonstrate how widely tango reaches across disciplines. They offer a case study for how medical-research projects incorporate tango therapeutically. Hackney and McKay utilize tango for promoting health and preventing or changing declining conditions, and they illustrate how their current research applies “Adapted Tango” to improve motor and cognitive functions in individuals with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s diseases.

Anthropologist and social tango dancer Carolyn Merritt had begun to take dance lessons in leading, then the COVID-19 restrictions shut down in-person classes and milongas. As she continued to pursue her quest in leading, Merritt reflects on her experiences and insights about how tango is politically generative, confronts the struggles many women face with tango, and provides a more profound examination into tango’s evolution and future. As she applies such findings of her embodied research, Merritt raises larger questions about how tango impacts the total human experience, especially during the COVID-19 restrictions.

Ortaç Aydınoğlu explores the bandoneón as a symbol of tango, focusing on the great interpreters in Argentina and abroad. The Turkish bandoneonist and tango scholar recounts the international travels and “adventures” of his instrument through time, enlightening the reader about how and why it came to symbolize tango.

Abstract

After marriage ended her ten-year career as a professional saxophone soloist, Bessie Mecklem Hackenberger (1876–1942) was able to sustain her ability to perform publicly during her married life through her participation in two contrasting models of Progressive- Era women's clubs. Most musical clubwomen were singers and pianists; Hackenberger was unique as a saxophonist. She was also exceptional for her extensive prior musical experience. On the programs of the Tuesday Musical Club of East Orange, New Jersey, she performed transcriptions from the cultivated tradition rather than the popular and light classical numbers from the lyceum concerts of her teenage years. Her musical activities in Haddon Heights, New Jersey, were limited to the local level and in a club context; however, on occasion, she appeared in settings that had a wider audience, such as live radio broadcasts and the Philadelphia Sesquicentennial. Class and gender played a significant role in shaping Hackenberger. The affluent Mecklem family took a progressive stance toward her artistic interests. Though her upwardly mobile husband expected gender conformity, her women's club activities gave her a public voice. Paralleling the postwar club movement's shift from the goal of self-development to an emphasis on civic reform, Hackenberger became increasingly committed to contributing to her community's economic and social welfare.

Keywords: Bessie Mecklem; Mrs. B. L. Hackenberger; saxophonists, 19th century; women musicians; women's clubs; music clubs; Progressive Era

Introduction

During a time when female woodwind and brass players were rare, Bessie Harding Mecklem (1876–1942) became one of the earliest American-born saxophone soloists. Throughout the early 1890s, she and her father, harpist Henry Clay Mecklem (1841–1915), performed extensively in the New York City area and throughout the Northeast (fig. 1). H. C. Mecklem and his older brother William were partners in a private banking establishment—Mecklem Brothers—located in New York City. Gradually, H. C. Mecklem became financially comfortable enough to take a more passive role in the business in order to devote himself to touring and performing with his daughter. An esteemed member of the Royal Arcanum lodge in East Orange, New Jersey, H. C. Mecklem utilized his network of contacts among various fraternal societies to further his and Bessie's performing careers. Consequently, Bessie appeared in the widest variety of performance settings of any Gilded- Age saxophonist: lyceum and YMCA courses, temperance and fraternal society meetings, benefit concerts, solo performances with wind bands, church services, and amusement parks.

Marco Albonetti is a longtime dear friend—a “brother from another mother,” as they say— as well as a collaborator. When he released his second Chandos record, he asked me how it made me feel. Such a simple question. But not a simple answer.

Whereas his first Chandos record was a culmination of over two and a half decades of his fascination with Astor Piazzolla, Amarcord d’un Tango is a deeper inquiry into tango. The first album is filled with energy, ambition, passion, and youth. The second is a bit darker, more emotionally mature, and was curated and created by a more seasoned and— dare I say it—older (and wiser) musician.

It is an exploration of opposites: liturgical and secular, sacred and profane, human and divine, past and present, connection and separation, fantasy and reality, remembering and forgetting, nostalgia and acceptance of the present moment, permanence and impermanence, young and old, love and loss … and, ultimately, life and death.

I believe that the thing that gives human life any meaning at all is the inevitable prospect of death.

And I believe the whole reason for living is to give and receive love.

Somehow, Albonetti and his collaborator Daniele di Bonaventura captured all of this in sound, using the very different but also similar instruments of the soprano saxophone and the bandoneon. The sounds of the instruments themselves are both produced by air moving through reeds, but one originates from inside the body while one emanates from the outside—yet another merging of opposites. I also love that the record moves between duos and larger orchestrations, representing both intimacy and distance.

A specific technical note for careful listeners: Albonetti chooses to use expressive intonation, following in the footsteps of great vocalists and string players. When he sounds a bit flat, one must consult the original text of the tango. He is intentionally text painting with his intonation, using melodic intonation rather than harmonic intonation to express emotions such as sadness or darkness. Playing with pitches between the cracks of an inherently out-of-tune bandoneon is a brilliant artistic technique in this situation. Albonetti means to say what he is saying and in the language in which he is saying it.

One of the more interesting aspects of navigating midlife is that we know we are at least somewhat resilient, because after all, we have made it this far.

Abstract

Prominent women saxophonists of the late nineteenth century had to employ creative and entrepreneurial approaches to find performance opportunities outside of the wind band, as women were not typically allowed in these ensembles. The accomplishments of Asenath Mann (1866–1951) place her among the group of pioneering saxophonists who achieved prominence during America's Gilded Age.

Mann, who was heard throughout the greater Boston area between 1882–1888, worked during the years after Etta Morgan's and Louise Linden's careers and before Bessie Mecklem’s. In contrast to these three peers, who toured extensively, Mann was able to work mostly within a 120-mile radius of her home. She appeared both as a soloist and as a member of one of the first women's orchestras in the United States. Consequently, her work patterns were not those typical of the touring “career” woman musician. Rather, they were more consistent with those of the journeyman instrumentalist, one who supplements a steady position in a band or theater orchestra with individual freelance engagements. Mann was able to perform consistently without having to tour due to the availability and variety of performing opportunities afforded by Boston's geography, demographics, and cultural institutions. Press accounts of Mann's audience reception indicate that her musical competence and artistry received greater attention than the novelty of her gender or that of her instrument, possibly her greatest accomplishment given the patriarchal society of the Gilded Age.

Keywords: Asenath Mann; Saxophonists, 19th century; women musicians; women's orchestras; Bijou Ladies Orchestra; Marion Osgood; lyceum; fraternal societies

Introduction

This article introduces American saxophonist Asenath Mann (1866–1951). Mann is significant for having been the most active of Boston's saxophonists of either gender a decade before the emergence of Elise Boyer Hall (1853–1924), a figure well known to saxophonists today. During the five and a half years she performed before the public, Mann appeared both as a soloist and as an original member of one of the first women's orchestras in the United States.

In the first four decades of the twentieth century, the saxophone was becoming increasingly visible in American popular music. The bands of John Philip Sousa, Patrick Conway, Giuseppe Creatore, Frederick Innes, and Arthur Pryor had established the instrument as an indispensable fixture. Saxophone ensembles, such as the Brown Brothers’ Sextet, flourished in vaudeville, and their more refined counterparts toured the Chautauqua and lyceum circuits.

The music of American composer Steven Bryant has in recent years become a common fixture in band rooms in high schools and universities throughout the United States. In this album, Bryant showcases three pieces for advanced wind ensemble written between 2007 and 2015. It begins with the fanfare In This Broad Earth. With its open harmonies and recurring rhythmic motives, the piece is by turns reminiscent of fanfares by Copland and John Adams, and serves as a delightful entrée. The last work on the record, the Concerto for Wind Ensemble, is a tour de force for the entire band.

The centerpiece of this album is Bryant's Concerto for Alto Saxophone, written in 2014 for American saxophone virtuoso Joseph Lulloff. In a nod to saxophone nerdery, Bryant uses the opening motive from the first movement of Paul Creston's Sonata for alto saxophone and piano as the Grundgestalt from which all other ideas in this work germinate. From the beginning, this piece is filled with an amazing intensity: a quiet but frenetic solo saxophone line is gradually picked up and transformed throughout the ensemble, like the buzzing of a beehive. It is almost as if Bryant has allowed the saxophonist the use of the whole wind orchestra as an expressive device.

The Concerto is a wonderful match for the talents of Joseph Lulloff: the first and third movements showcase his incredible, fluid technique and his captivating expressive gifts. However, it is hard to imagine how many other performers could perform the second movement as effectively as Lulloff: the entire movement is built off of (and calls upon) the performer's parallel skill as a top-flight jazz improviser. While there are a handful of players who possess the skills as concert and jazz performers required for this work, there seems to be something of Lulloff's very soul and personality in the piece. Due to the intensive working relationship between Lulloff and Bryant in the Concerto's genesis, any future performers of this work must view this as the definitive recording, especially for the second movement, where Lulloff's improvisation comes into direct contact with notated music by Bryant inspired by other, earlier improvisations by the performer.

Throughout the recording, the Michigan State University Wind Symphony performs brilliantly, with an extremely large pallette of colors.

Until now the career of Elise Hall (1853–1924), the world's first female orchestral saxophonist and altruistic patroness of the arts, has been regarded as a twentieth-century affair. Between 1900 and 1920, she appeared in select performances with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, Boston Orchestral Club, and Longy Club, and was heard on Parisian programs of La Société nationale de musique and Salon des musiciens français. Most famously, she was the sole financial benefactor of the Boston Orchestral Club and commissioned twenty-two works by prominent French composers (Debussy, d’Indy, Loeffler, Schmitt, and others), many of which she premiered. During this time, Hall also presented several self-produced concerts on both sides of the Atlantic and participated in countless private musicales. By all measures, hers was a monumental and enduring achievement, especially in view of the resistance that women of her generation encountered with regard to performing in public and, in her case, playing the saxophone. Although recognition was slow in coming, Elise Hall is now celebrated for her pioneering efforts.

Paradoxically, these twentieth-century triumphs in the East have long been regarded as having less than exceptional nineteenth-century antecedents out West. According to her friend Renée Longy, it was while in California in the mid-1890s that Hall suffered a bout of typhoid fever resulting in hearing loss. Her husband, Richard J. Hall, MD, is alleged to have prescribed a novel treatment: playing a wind instrument to stimulate hearing and prevent further impairment. This she did, but because Santa Barbara was a small remote city, finding a teacher was said to have been difficult; hence, according to Longy, lessons began with a village laborer who happened to have a saxophone. William Street, in his dissertation, mentioned that Elise Hall's musical involvement in Santa Barbara included an organization known as “The Amateurs.” Reports of these curious and unremarkable beginnings led historians to conclude that her time in California lacked noteworthy achievement. However, a thorough reinvestigation reveals that such an unflattering narrative is largely false. The truth is that Hall's unprecedented successes in Boston was a continuation of what she had begun eight years earlier and some three thousand miles away.

The Hall family moved from New York to Santa Barbara in late 1889, and Elise began saxophone lessons in 1891. Although dozens of newspaper accounts refer to her throughout the 1890s (including societal happenings, charitable events, and musical performances), none mention illness or hearing loss.

Abstract

This article will explore the life and works of William Grant Still, especially as they relate to the saxophone. His familiar solo piece for alto saxophone and piano, Romance, and its little-known complement Quit Dat Fool’nish will be examined, along with his early chamber works utilizing the instrument. In addition, select orchestral scores by Still that include the saxophone will be explored. Throughout, the works will be placed within their chronological context in Still's life, and where possible, within the framework of his personal and artistic philosophies.

Keywords: William Grant Still, Sigurd Raschèr, American Music, 20th Century Music

Introduction

Who was William Grant Still? Instead of viewing him as the “Dean of Afro-American Composers” (a title which Still viewed with more than a little distaste), the composer should be understood from his preferred vantage point: as “another American voice.” 2 This article will explore this important musician's life and work, especially as they relate to the saxophone. His familiar solo piece for alto saxophone and piano, Romance, and its littleknown complement Quit Dat Fool’nish will be examined, along with his early chamber works that utilize the instrument. In addition, select orchestral scores by Still that include the saxophone will be explored. Throughout, the works will be placed within their chronological context in Still's life, and where possible, within the framework of his personal and artistic philosophies.

William Grant Still was often labeled the “Dean of Afro-American Composers,” but (perhaps obviously from this paternalistic title) he battled racism and discrimination in the classical music community throughout his career. He held an impressive number of distinctions: he was the first African American to have a symphony publicly performed in the United States, the first African American to conduct a major orchestra, the first African American to have an opera staged by a major company, and the first African American to conduct a white orchestra in the American South. He composed voluminously, writing nine operas, five symphonies, four ballets, and more than one hundred and fifty other works. However, even with these distinctions and a seemingly unquenchable depth of musical inspiration, Still struggled to have much of his music performed in his own lifetime.

Personally, Still was a quiet, gentle man. He was uncomfortable in most social situations, and he vastly preferred written communication to speaking face-to-face.