Decolonizing Classical Music: Some Reflections in the Year of the Tiger

Last month, the US-China Music Institute of the Bard College Conservatory of Music in upstate New York presented The Sound of Spring concert. The program of Chinese classical music was performed by The Orchestra Now (TŌN) and featured some of the most breathtaking sounds I have ever heard live. Organized to celebrate the Chinese New Year, one of the most important holidays in the Lunar calendar, 2022 ushers forth the year of the tiger, making it “powerful, rebellious, dynamic, adventurous, fiery, impulsive and unpredictable,” according to the Los Angeles Times. This is particularly of interest to me because, as the newspaper adds, “Tigers also typically have strong ethics, so they’re very passionate about causes.”

My own cause is about decolonizing knowledge, so I want to use this as an opportunity to reflect upon decentering Western understandings of classical music. I have long been a devoted fan of the genre; however, classical concerts are overwhelmingly white. And not because it is only white people’s music: it’s more a question of colonialism, class, and power.

Classical music, as we understand the term today, exists everywhere. As Britannica notes, music in Europe originated in the church and was first collected and codified under St. Gregory I’s papacy (590–604). This music would come to be known as Gregorian Chant. However, by the 1500s, the governing elite had usurped the Church’s role over music creation, according to Gramophone. The term “classical” originally applied to a period in European music corresponding with the 18th century but has since come to represent an entire genre of “heavy” music from various historical periods and geographies. This discursive shift is symbolic of the European post-Enlightenment project to try to reproduce the world in its own image.

In reality, the impulse to create music is universal and there are many expressions of the genre that need to be better accounted for. When I travelled to Iran for my graduate studies, I fell in love with the ancient santoor, a hammered dulcimer (stringed musical instrument) of Iranian or Mesopotamian origins, appearing on Assyrian and Babylonian stone carvings as early as 669 B.C. I also was exposed to the haunting contemporary music of Shahram Nazeri. During my fieldwork in Lebanon, my devotion was to classical Arabic music, thanks to the fantastic series of free concerts organized by the University of Saint Joseph in Beirut. Additionally, Lebanese friends took me to hear the beautiful voice of soprano Magida El Roumi and the amazing contemporary music of Marcel Khalife. In South Africa, I learned about traditional South African choral music, isicathamiya. Derived from the Zulu for “walking softly, or tread carefully,” it is a synthesis of diverse local traditions that evolved at the end of the 19th century.

Nevertheless, most classical concerts (outside of culturally specific festivals) in major American cities still focus mainly on the Western canon. Representation also remains a problem, with Black players making up only 2 per cent of the nation’s orchestras. The problem of inequality is finally being acknowledged: last year, Terence Blanchard became the first Black composer to be presented by The Metropolitan Opera in New York. Also in 2021, American violinist Randall Goosby released an incredible album celebrating classical music by Black composers, which can only deepen any appreciation of the genre. Finally, this year will be the first time in Carnegie Hall’s 130-year history that an all-Black classical symphony orchestra will perform.

Organizations like Bard College are also working to decenter the narrative of classical music. Which brings me back to the brilliance of The Sound of Spring, a perfect illustration of how “through music we can have a common language,” as Jindong Cai, director of the institute and Associate Conductor of The Orchestra Now notes in the program. I have not felt such excitement from a music performance since Winton Marsalis stopped by my undergraduate jazz class in the mid-1990s to jam with his band, while also sharing some amazing stories.

Under the direction of Conductor Leon Botstein, Bard President and founder of TŌN, the college has explored an array of classical music composers for many years; annual summer festivals have highlighted the work of minorities, like Erich Wolfgang Korngold and Nadia Boulanger. But there was something truly special about hearing a new form of music that is a fusion of different cultures. Indeed, The Sound of Spring nearly brought me to tears on several occasions, especially thinking about America’s Cold War mentality and the potential for the arts to be a unifying force. Considering the increased racism experienced by Chinese Americans during this pandemic, celebrating The Sound of Spring feels like an imperative.

TŌN is part of a musical graduate program that offers a three-year master’s degree in Curatorial, Critical, and Performance Studies and a two-year advanced certificate in Orchestra Studies. Students not only perform live at The Fisher Center, designed by iconic architect Frank Gehry, but also in New York City. Furthermore, they are invited to give “on-stage introductions and demonstrations, writ[e] concert notes from the musicians’ perspective, and hav[e] one-on-one discussions with patrons during intermissions,” according to its website.

The concert opened with “Spring Festival Overture” written by Li Huanzhi (1919-2000). It is a model of Chinese orchestration that is often performed at the New Year. The next piece was the first of two examples of Peking opera. Song Feihong performed in the most beautiful costume with a voice that challenged me to reconsider what is humanly possible to communicate through song. Peking opera arose in Beijing during the late eighteenth century, and this piece, “Ode to Pear Blossoms,” combines traditional form with modern sounds.

The next song was “Boat Tracker along the Yellow river” by contemporary composer Zhou Chenglong, featuring Guo Yazhi on the guanzi, an instrument that dates back to the Yang Dynasty (618-907) but has the soul and range of an oboe (1700s), meets clarinet (1800s), meets saxophone (1846). Yazhi gave a delightful performance, teasing the audience with his virtuosity. To close the first half of the concert, pianist Ju Xiaofu played the “Yellow River Concerto” by Xian Xinghai, one of the first composers in China to draw upon Western classical music but with a revolutionary theme, using traditional folk-melodies to evoke the image of the Yellow River. Written in 1939 during the Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945) and motivated by the Chinese Communist Party, it is a stunning representation of Chinese resistance and nationalism.

The second half of the concert began with “Apsaras of the Silk Road” for pipa and orchestra by Zhao Cong. The pipa is a Chinese instrument with a pear-shaped wooden body first written about during the Han Dynasty around the 2nd century. I adore how The Guardian describes its sound: “A fitting description of the instrument's delicate tonality can be found in a poem by the Tang Dynasty's Bai Juyi: ‘The bold strings rattled like splatters of sudden rain. The fine instruments hummed like lovers' whispers. Chattering and pattering, pattering and chattering.’” Asparas, meanwhile, are “celestial singers and dancers” in Indian mythology and religion “who, together with the gandharvas, or celestial musicians, inhabit the heaven of the god Indra, the lord of the heavens.” This imagery really captures the heavenly music.

Next, Guo Yazhi performed a traditional song on the souna called “Hundreds of Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix,” which almost felt like stepping into an aviary, as fabulous birdsong flooded the theatre. The souna has a high-pitched sound and emerged around the 3rd century. Then Song Feihong performed another opera song, “Ode to the West Lake” while painting calligraphy. The words are from a poem by Su Shi (1037-1101). Her movements were both deliberate and graceful, creating an enchanting sound and strong visuals.

The final part of the concert featured the glorious voices of baritone Jose Rubio and soprano Esther Maureen Kelly, who performed a song and series of duets: “Ocean, My Hometown” by Wang Liping, “Wind from the North” and “Red Ribbon” by Ma Ke (1918-1976), and “The Moon Represents my Heart” by Weng Chinghsi and Sun Yi. My favorite portion of these duets came at the very end, with the performance of “From Jasmine to Turandot,” a mix of traditional Jiangsu folksong with the majesty of Giacomo Puccini’s (1858-1924) operatic masterpiece, sending shivers down my spine. Jiangsu is an eastern-central coastal province of China. The possibility of creating something equally if not more beautiful than the original is just inspiring, demonstrating the beauty that can be born of cultural dialogue. This is also the power of decolonizing knowledge, especially so we can create a more just society for all.

The full concert is available to watch here.