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      Finishing Bach’s Organ Music, With Help From 118 Composers

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      A new project completes Bach’s plans for his kaleidoscopic “Orgelbüchlein,” with a 21st-century touch.One of the most enduring mysteries that Johann Sebastian Bach left for us comes in the form of his “Orgelbüchlein,” a collection of chorale preludes for organ.From autograph manuscripts that detail titles of the chorales, it’s clear that Bach planned to compose 164 of them, spread throughout the Christian liturgical year. But he wrote only 46 such pieces, leaving 118 mysteriously untouched.A completely satisfactory explanation doesn’t exist. But a 15-year project to finish what Bach began — from a decidedly 21st-century perspective — is nearing its conclusion: The whole collection recently premiered in Britain, and Edition Peters will soon publish the sheet music in full.“The project is nothing if not kaleidoscopic,” said William Whitehead, who curated the new collection. “It’s eclectic in capital letters.”Where pianists who play Bach’s music have “The Well-Tempered Clavier,” organists have the “Orgelbüchlein” — German for “Little Organ Book,” which consists of the chorale preludes BWV 599-644. Today, the “Orgelbüchlein,” as close as Bach ever came to a full hymnal, is a cornerstone of the organ repertory.As a teaching manual and a compositional model, “the ‘Orgelbüchlein’ has influenced composers ever since Bach taught the music to his pupils,” said Russell Stinson, an emeritus professor of music at Lyon College and the author of a monograph on the collection. “Certain works from Johannes Brahms’s ‘Eleven Chorale Preludes for Organ’ (Op. 122) unmistakably bear the stamp of Bach’s ‘Orgelbüchlein.’”The exercise of taking a single-verse chorale melody and turning it into a brief, often elaborate prelude, was followed by composers including Robert Schumann, Max Reger and Anton Webern. Evidence exists of a setting of Bach’s “O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort” by Webern from 1906, at the prompting of his teacher Arnold Schoenberg.Whitehead’s own “Orgelbüchlein” project was inspired by a 17-year-old student of his who wrote an “Orgelbüchlein”-style chorale prelude on the English carol “Of the Father’s Heart Begotten” about 15 years ago.Bach planned to write 164 chorale preludes for the collection but completed only 46.Fine Art Images/Heritage Images, via Getty ImagesThe title page of Bach’s “Orgelbüchlein” from the collection of the Berlin State Library.Fine Art Images/Heritage Images, via Getty Images“I remember listening to it thinking: If this 17-year-old kid can do this, why can’t we get the cream of European composers to put their minds to this task, and see if we can fill in all these tantalizing gaps?” Whitehead said. The finished collection features a host of eminent composers, representing a range of aesthetics: Gerald Barry, John Rutter, Louis Andriessen, Thea Musgrave and Kalevi Aho all respond to the same brief. So did the American musician Nico Muhly.The collection started as a collaboration between the organ and composition departments of Trinity College London, where Whitehead was teaching at the time. After getting a few established composers on board (Giles Swayne and Judith Bingham were early supporters), it became clear to Whitehead that the project was worth seeing through completely.That started what Whitehead called an “archaeological expedition” — searching for the hymns and plainchants Bach intended to set but that have since disappeared or gone out of fashion. The research also involved consulting multiple existing editions of Bach’s “Orgelbüchlein,” to which Whitehead and the project’s academic adviser, John Scott Whiteley, have contributed a new discovery: a single held note, added to the tenor voice in the penultimate bar of “Wer nur den lieben Gott lässt walten” (BWV 642), that is currently omitted from modern editions.Whitehead organized thousands of notes contributed by 118 composers, all of which are separated into themed volumes. (The third, “Catechism, Penitence and Communion,” was released at the end of September.) Coming up with an assignment for contributors was difficult; leaving it at “something modern in your own style that reflects the ethos of the ‘Orgelbüchlein’” seemed too sparse, Whitehead said.The key to success, Whitehead said, was to find “a single idea pursued to the ultimate degree.” He added, “Many composers manifestly told me they found it a very difficult task indeed.”Whitehead also sought contributions from figures outside the world of contemporary composition: figures like Andreas Fischer and John Butt, who are more commonly associated with research or performance. A variety of responses followed accordingly. Andrew Keeling’s chorale, for example, took inspiration from reggae; James O’Donnell contributed a deft Brahms imitation; the baritone and composer Roderick Williams chose to reflect the quotidian in what Whitehead described as a “wonky tango.”From a decidedly 21st-century perspective, the finished collection features a host of eminent composers, representing a range of aesthetics.Julian Guidera“Contributing as a composer to a project such as this is so hugely intimidating,” Williams, who set “Ich weiss ein Blümlein hübsch und fein,” said in an email. He added, “There was never any point in trying to replicate Bach’s invention, his contrapuntal skill or the theological profundity of his response. So I chose a different tack; comparing our digital 21st century to Bach’s age suggested a response from me that reflects some of today’s values (or lack thereof).”Whitehead has been less daunted, and wears the implications of completing Bach lightly. “Once you’ve taken the ‘Orgelbüchlein’ out of the church setting, why not recreate the ethos in a secular way or jocular way?” he said. “Nearly all of the pieces are in a musical style Bach wouldn’t immediately recognize, so, there’s a kind of distancing ‘ab initio’ in the project.”For others, like the composer Roxanna Panufnik, who contributed a setting of Severus Gastorius’s melody “Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan,” the project was an opportunity to bring her closer to Bach. “For me, he is the master,” she said in an email. “His music always, without fail, instills a feeling that all is well in the world, and I feel his harmonic language is more Romantic than that of the Romantics.”Whitehead made a similar point when he said that “the ‘Orgelbüchlein’ pieces are dense technical exercises on one level, but are poetic explorations of symbolism, too — if you’ve defined ‘affekt’ in the rather general way, that it’s a mood picture.” Panufnik’s approach was to avoid close study of the text in favor of her own independent harmonization of the set chorale, one of a number of varied responses to Whitehead’s hope of creating what he described as a “unified sense of ‘affekt.’”Finding emotional unity across over a hundred composers was always going to be impossible, but contributors seemed buoyed by that fact. “Anything that brings our wonderfully and stylistically diverse composer community together is a good thing,” Panufnik said, adding, “I feel we should all be collaborating on projects more often.” More

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      Lil Baby Is No. 1, but Taylor Swift’s Huge Chart Takeover Nears

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      The singer-songwriter’s new album, “Midnights,” won’t hit the Billboard 200 until next week, but after just one weekend it is already the year’s biggest-selling LP.Lil Baby, the Atlanta rapper who turned to music after a stint in prison and became one of his hometown’s biggest new stars, has his third No. 1 album in three years this week with “It’s Only Me.” Meanwhile, the music industry is holding its collective breath for next week’s chart, in anticipation of a gigantic opening for Taylor Swift’s latest.“It’s Only Me,” which features guest spots by Young Thug, Future, Jeremih and EST Gee, had the equivalent of 216,000 sales in the United States, according to the tracking service Luminate. Most of its popularity is attributed to streaming, with the album totaling 289 million clicks in its first week out — the third-best streaming tally for a No. 1 album this year, after Bad Bunny (357 million) and Kendrick Lamar (343 million).As impressive as Lil Baby’s numbers are, they have already been dwarfed by those for Swift’s “Midnights,” which was released on Friday and, after just one day, has already become the best-selling album released in 2022, with a strong possibility it could be the first album to open with more than one million equivalent sales in five years. (The last artist to do so? You guessed it, Taylor Swift, with “Reputation.”)In its first day on sale, according to a report in Billboard citing early data from Luminate — which has a longstanding partnership with the magazine for its charts — “Midnights” sold more than 800,000 copies as a complete unit, exceeding the 620,000 copies sold so far of Harry Styles’s “Harry’s House,” which has been out for five months. A major factor in Swift’s success is her strategy of releasing the album in an array of collectible variants on physical media: in addition to its four standard versions on LP and CD, there is an exclusive version sold by Target, not to mention the surprise “3am Edition” released digitally with seven extra songs. (K-pop groups like BTS and Blackpink, of course, have been using this strategy for years.)And those are just the numbers for old-fashioned sales. Both Spotify and Apple Music announced that “Midnights” had broken first-day streaming records on those services, and the album’s numbers are holding strong: On Spotify, for example, tracks from “Midnights” take up 18 of the top 20 spots on its daily U.S. streaming chart as of Monday.Also on this week’s album chart, Red Hot Chili Peppers open at No. 3 with “Return of the Dream Canteen,” their second LP this year, which had the equivalent of 63,000 sales.Bad Bunny’s “Un Verano Sin Ti” is in second place, Morgan Wallen’s “Dangerous: The Double Album” is No. 4 and “The Highlights,” a hits compilation by the Weeknd, is No. 5. More

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      Review: A Conductor Takes a Victory Lap With Her Orchestra

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      Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla has returned to the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, now as a guest, for a tour that stopped at Carnegie Hall.When Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla, a rapidly rising young Lithuanian conductor, announced last year that she would step down from her post as the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra’s music director, her statement had the euphemistic wording of a breakup.“This is a deeply personal decision,” she said at the time, “reflecting my desire to step away from the organizational and administrative responsibilities of being a music director at this particular moment in my life and focusing more on my purely musical activities.”But she was being honest: An outlier in classical music, at 36 she would rather dedicate time to her own interests and her growing family than be tied to an orchestra. When I met her in January, as she was preparing a new production of Janacek’s “The Cunning Little Vixen” in Munich as part of a year dedicated to various iterations of that opera, she said lightheartedly, “I’m not sure the big orchestras will be interested in having me if I say I’ll do only ‘Vixen’ for the whole season.”If more proof of Gražinytė-Tyla’s sincerity were needed, she has also delivered on the final part of her statement that “we shall continue to make music together in the coming years.” She is touring with the Birmingham, England, ensemble, now as its principal guest conductor. One of their stops was at Carnegie Hall on Saturday night: a program that was something of a victory lap not only for her six-season tenure with these players, but also for the group’s pandemic-delayed centennial celebrations from 2020.Among those celebrations was a series of commissions that included Thomas Adès’s “The Exterminating Angel” Symphony, a four-movement adaptation of his 2016 opera that had its New York premiere on Saturday.“The Exterminating Angel” is one of the great operas of our time — a work of wicked humor and dark beauty that befits both the 1962 Luis Buñuel film that inspired it and the overwhelming dread and instability we try to live with today. (Now, its story of surreal, indefinite imprisonment in a single room comes off as prescient and all too familiar.) The sound world Adès conjures throughout is dramaturgically airtight: shifting harmonies, the eeriness of an ondes Martenot, dense forces of cosmic immensity.It’s a lot to take in, and there have been few opportunities; “The Exterminating Angel” is an expensive production, with a sprawling principal cast and an orchestra of Wagnerian heft. Adès conducted the American premiere at the Metropolitan Opera in 2017, and given the house’s unreliable continued support of contemporary work, however successful, it’s difficult to imagine a revival any time soon.Thankfully, Adès has made further music from the score: the solo piano Berceuse, written for Kirill Gerstein, and this symphony, which cleverly echoes the opera without excerpting it. Gone is the eerie ondes Martenot, though it lives on in swinging glissandos in the strings; still intact, however, is the opera’s excess and horror, made all the more unsettling by the orchestra’s coolly crisp, virtually objective delivery on Saturday.The first movement, “Entrances,” nods at the grotesquerie and layered textures of the opening scene; “March,” from an interlude between Acts I and II, could just as easily be called “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Firing Squad,” with martial terrors reminiscent of Shostakovich’s 11th Symphony. The grim lyricism of Adès’s love songs and lullabies returns with another Berceuse, followed by the finale, “Waltzes,” a rhapsodic assemblage that evolves into a relentless danse macabre analogue to the opera itself.Had the symphony not come after an intermission, it would have been a whiplash response to the work that opened the program: Elgar’s sparely orchestrated and often quiet Cello Concerto in E minor, featuring Sheku Kanneh-Mason as the soloist. He’s an expressive musician, who defaults to a wide, emotive vibrato — especially in his encore, a harmonious arrangement of Bach’s “Komm, süsser Tod” for five cellists. Gražinytė-Tyla deferred to him as the concerto’s narrator, with modest accompaniment and rarely blooming grandeur.And a compelling narrator he was. Kanneh-Mason plays with the seeming spontaneity that can come only from extreme discipline, but also a freedom that occasionally slides into flawed intonation. And in a work as plain-spoken as the Elgar, his elevated articulation was more Shakespeare than, say, the Chekhov it should have been. But all that could be forgiven for the sheer charisma of his performance.The most traditional showcase of the Birmingham ensemble’s sound under Gražinytė-Tyla was in Debussy’s “La Mer,” which closed the evening in a transparent interpretation that revealed the piece’s rich, subtly maximal orchestration. Gražinytė-Tyla’s reading wasn’t the most volatile, but it was revealing in its clarity, balancing texture upon texture below a gracefully buoyant melody in the brasses or winds.Players in every section of the orchestra responded to her gestures — sometimes efficiently small, sometimes evocative of a swerve or plunge — with lived-in ease. Gražinytė-Tyla might not be attached to them full time, but neither is she fully detached. Whatever she has decided to do, to reconcile her own interests with that of this orchestra, it’s working.City of Birmingham Symphony OrchestraPerformed on Saturday at Carnegie Hall, Manhattan. More

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      Geoff Nuttall, First Among Equals in Acclaimed Quartet, Dies at 56

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      With the St. Lawrence Quartet, he played with such enthusiasm that often he swept himself from his seat. At the Spoleto Festival USA, he was a shaping force.Geoff Nuttall, a charismatic musician who played boldly as the first violinist of the acclaimed St. Lawrence String Quartet for more than three decades, and who was widely admired as the leader of the chamber music series at the Spoleto Festival USA, died on Wednesday in Palo Alto, Calif. He was 56.The cause was pancreatic cancer, the quartet’s management company, David Rowe Artists, said.Mr. Nuttall founded the St. Lawrence in Toronto in 1989 with the violinist Barry Shiffman, the violist Lesley Robertson and the cellist Marina Hoover. Training with the fabled Tokyo and Emerson quartets and taking first prize at the Banff International String Quartet Competition in Canada in 1992, they came to prominence quickly and distinctively, with Mr. Nuttall first among the group’s equals.“The quartet’s stage manner was hip and casual,” though it had “an unmistakable seriousness of intent,” the critic Alex Ross wrote in The New York Times after its New York debut at the 92nd Street Y in 1992. “The performance had a dangerous, unchecked edge,” Mr. Ross reflected on a performance of Berg, “I have never heard anything quite like it. In the future, this quartet should make its presence felt.”The St. Lawrence did so. Its repertoire was individual, even quirky, focusing as strongly on new music by the likes of Osvaldo Golijov as on older scores. It recorded pieces by the contemporary composers Jonathan Berger and John Adams with the same intensity as those by Shostakovich, Schumann and Tchaikovsky that it released on the EMI label. (Mr. Adams wrote the St. Lawrence two quartets as well as the quartet-and-orchestra “Absolute Jest.”)If the quartet’s palpable commitment remained characteristic — even as the violinists Scott St. John and Owen Dalby and the cellist Christopher Costanza replaced outgoing members — that was because its brio seemed to emanate bodily from its longstanding first violinist. Mr. Nuttall often played with such enthusiasm that he swept himself from his seat.“Nuttall is the St. Lawrence’s ‘secret weapon,’ as the rest of the group admits,” Mr. Ross wrote in The New Yorker in 2001. “His phrasing often upsets the central pulse of a movement, and the others either follow his lead or scramble to restore rhythmic order. As a result, despite the rigorous discipline of the quartet’s rehearsal process, many passages sound riotously improvised.”Mr. Nuttall’s electrifying ability to engage flowed from his deep desire to communicate even at the expense of other, blandly technical virtues, and he was fully aware of the risks of failure; indeed, he welcomed them as imperative to a good performance.Mr. Nuttall, a vinyl collector whose living room held more than 10,000 LPs that offered as much inspiration from Miles Davis as from the Busch Quartet, told American Artscape in 2014: “A string quartet is officially really about being together. You really want to be unified and blended together. And I remember being inspired by ‘Nashville Skyline,’ the Bob Dylan record. He does a duet with Johnny Cash. It’s such a great record, and they’re not together at all. They’re totally doing their own thing, but it’s totally unified and really powerful at the same time.”“And that was a great lesson on ensemble playing,” he continued. “Because if each one of the duet is doing their own thing in a really committed and convincing way, even if you’re saying the same thing, which they were in that case, it can be more powerful.”Mr. Nuttall performing with Livia Sohn in 2010 in a chamber music concert in New York. Jennifer Taylor for The New York TimesGeoffrey Winston Nuttall was born on Nov. 22, 1965, in College Station, Texas, to John and Suzanne (Shantz) Nuttall. His mother was a nurse; his father a physics professor who relocated from Texas A&M University to the University of Western Ontario, Canada, when Geoff was 8.He took up the violin shortly after the family moved to London, Ontario, and played in his first quartet at age 10 or 11. He studied with Lorand Fenyves, a renowned former concertmaster of the Israel Philharmonic and the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande, at the University of Toronto, the school from which he graduated.With the St. Lawrence, Mr. Nuttall was later in residence at the Juilliard School, Yale University, and the Hartt School of Music. He and his colleagues joined the faculty of Stanford University in 1998, leading its chamber music program and making the music of Franz Joseph Haydn — Mr. Nuttall’s favorite composer and one whom he thought was perpetually overlooked — as much a core of their campus activities as of their concert programs.“Arrestingly dynamic teamsmanship among the four players allowed every gesture to be for the moment and every moment to be in your face,” the Los Angeles Times critic Mark Swed wrote of a 2018 recital of Haydn’s six Op. 20 works, which the St. Lawrence also recorded with gritty drama rather than poised elegance. “The string quartet as theater doesn’t get more exhilarating.”What Haydn’s music demands, Mr. Nuttall said in a presentation at Google in 2017, is “active participation, active listening, following the game.”He had a rare talent for inspiring exactly that with his spirited talks during concerts about what made music worth getting fully involved with. That, along with his eclectic taste in repertoire, made him the ideal frontman to succeed Charles Wadsworth as the director and host of the early-summer Spoleto chamber series in Charleston, S.C., in 2009.Mr. Nuttall performing this year. He was 10 or 11 when he first played in a quartet. Bill StruhsThe St. Lawrence played regularly at Spoleto from 1995, and for Mr. Nuttall, South Carolina became a home away from his Bay Area home.He married Livia Sohn, another violinist, in a Charleston garden in 2000. She survives him along with their two sons, Jack and Ellis, his mother, and his sister, Jenny Nuttall. “It was an inspired choice,” Johanna Keller wrote of the Spoleto appointment in The New York Times in 2013. “Mr. Nuttall turns out to be chamber music’s Jon Stewart,” she continued, a “creatively daring, physically talented performer who can go goofball in a nanosecond, maintaining a veneer of entertainment while educating his base about serious matters.”Mr. Nuttall did not particularly mind the comparison.“Whether you’re 7 years old and have never seen a violin up close or you’re an expert with a doctorate in music, I want you to leave humming, elated, or having felt emotionally put through the ringer,” he explained to the Charleston Magazine in 2019.“Music connects us all. There’s no secret code to understand in order to feel moved.” More

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      Lucy Simon, Singer and Broadway Composer, Dies at 82

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      She and her sister Carly Simon were a folk duo in the 1960s. Years later, she wrote the Tony-nominated music for “The Secret Garden.”Lucy Simon, who with her sister Carly began performing and recording as the Simon Sisters during the folk revival of the 1960s, and who then almost three decades later became a Tony Award-nominated composer for the long-running musical “The Secret Garden,” died on Thursday at her home in Piermont, N.Y., in Rockland County. She was 82.Her family said the cause was metastatic breast cancer.Ms. Simon was the middle of three musical sisters. Her younger sister, Carly, became a best-selling pop star after their folk-duo days, and her older sister, Joanna, was an opera singer with an international career. Joanna Simon, at 85, died in Manhattan a day before Lucy Simon’s death.Lucy and Carly started singing together as teenagers. Their father, Richard, was the “Simon” of Simon & Schuster, the publishing house, so a heady list of guests came through the household, including Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II. Their mother was Andrea (Heinemann) Simon.“We would go to cocktail parties and bring our guitar and sing,” Lucy Simon told The New York Times in 2015. “And people loved it.”Eventually, she added, they said to each other, “Let’s see if we can pay our way by singing.”Carly was a student at Sarah Lawrence College and Lucy was studying at the Cornell University-New York Hospital School of Nursing in New York in the early 1960s when, during summer break, they took a bus to Provincetown, Mass. (They had wanted to hitchhike, but their mother squashed that plan.) They quickly landed a gig at a bar called Moors, whose musical act had just been drafted. They arrived for their first show in carefully selected matching blouses.“Only later did we learn that the Moors was a gay and lesbian bar,” Carly Simon wrote in her 2015 memoir, “Boys in the Trees.” “What the mostly uncombed, ripped-jeans-and-motorcycle-jacketed audience made of these two sisters is lost to time. Lucy and I had taken our wardrobe at the Moors pretty seriously, and in return the audience probably thought we were twin milkmaids from Switzerland, or escapees from a nearby carnival.”They called themselves the Simon Sisters, even though, as Carly Simon wrote, “Lucy and I agreed that our stage name sounded schlocky and borderline embarrassing, plus neither of us wanted to be labeled — or dismissed — as just another novelty sister act.”In that book, Ms. Simon recalled the sisterly dynamic during that first foray into performing.“Anyone paying close attention would have seen how hard I, Carly, the younger sister, was trying to look and act like Lucy, the older sister,” she wrote. “I was now taller than Lucy, but emotionally speaking, Lucy was still the high-up one, the light, the beauty, the center of it all. Then as now, my sister was my grounding influence, my heroine, my pilot.”Soon they had a contract with a management company and were booked into the Bitter End, the Greenwich Village club that gave numerous future stars their start. An appearance on the musical variety television show “Hootenanny” in the spring of 1963 (along with the Chad Mitchell Trio and the Smothers Brothers) further boosted their profile. They appeared on the show again in early 1964.Some years earlier, Lucy Simon had composed a setting of the Eugene Field children’s poem “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod,” and the song became a staple of the Simon Sisters’ performances. Released as a single in 1964, titled “Winkin’, Blinkin’ and Nod,” it reached No. 73 on the Billboard chart. It also anchored one of the two albums they quickly recorded.The two sisters toured for a time, but after her marriage in 1967 to Dr. David Y. Levine, a psychiatrist, Lucy Simon pulled back from performing to focus on their two children. In 1975, she released a solo album, titled simply “Lucy Simon,” followed in 1977 by another, “Stolen Time.” But she found she had lost her zeal for performing.In the early 1980s, she and her husband produced two compilation albums featuring James Taylor, her sister Carly, Linda Ronstadt, Bette Midler and other stars singing children’s songs. The albums, “In Harmony: A Sesame Street Recording” and “In Harmony 2,” both won Grammy Awards for best children’s album.In the 1980s, Ms. Simon took a stab at musical theater, working on an effort to make a musical out of the “Little House on the Prairie” stories. That project never bore fruit, but a connection provided by her sister Joanna led her to one that did.Joanna Simon was for a time the arts correspondent for “The MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour” on PBS, and in 1988 she interviewed the playwright Marsha Norman. She asked Ms. Norman what she was working on, and the playwright mentioned an adaptation of “The Secret Garden,” the Frances Hodgson Burnett children’s novel, and said that she and the producer Heidi Landesman were looking for a composer.Lucy, left, and Carly Simon singing in Shubert Alley along Broadway in 1982. Lucy Simon was later nominated for a Tony Award for best original score, for the hit musical “The Secret Garden.”Nancy Kaye/Associated PressLucy Simon proved to be a good fit for Ms. Norman’s lyrics. The show opened on Broadway in April 1991. Reviews were mixed — Frank Rich, in The Times, said that Ms. Simon’s music was “fetching when limning the deep feelings locked within the story’s family constellations” but not always successful — yet the show was a hit, giving 709 performances over almost two years. Ms. Simon earned a Tony nomination for best original score. (The award went to Cy Coleman, Betty Comden and Adolph Green for “The Will Rogers Follies.”)Ms. Simon reached Broadway again in 2015 as composer of the musical “Doctor Zhivago,” but the show lasted just 23 performances.That year, in the interview with The Times, she said that she thought music had the potential to be more emotionally powerful than other art forms, like dance or painting.“There’s something intangible and mysterious about music,” she said. “It can get you more; you can sob more. It’s got a stronger engine.”Lucy Elizabeth Simon was born on May 5, 1940, in Manhattan.“We all came out singing,’‘ she once said of herself and her sisters. “And we kept on singing. At dinner we wouldn’t just say, ‘Please pass the salt, thank you.’ We’d sing it. Sometimes in the style of Gershwin. Sometimes as a lieder.”Carly Simon wrote in her book that the pass-the-salt singing started as a way to help her — Carly — with a vexing stammer. Their mother had suggested that instead of speaking the phrase, Carly try singing it. With Joanna and Lucy joining in to encourage their sister, it worked.Lucy and Carly Simon during an interview with The New York Times in 2015 at Carly Simon’s home on Martha’s Vineyard, Mass.Ryan Conaty for The New York TimesLucy Simon’s greatest hit as a folk singer, the “Winkin’” song, had a self-help element to it. At 14, she was given a school assignment to memorize a poem, but dyslexia made it difficult. She found that she could memorize the Eugene Field poem by setting it to music. Her version was later recorded by numerous artists.Ms. Simon’s credits also included composing the music for a wild 1993 HBO movie, “The Positively True Adventures of the Alleged Texas Cheerleader Murdering Mom,” which won Emmy Awards for Holly Hunter and Beau Bridges.Ms. Simon’s brother, Peter, a photographer, died in 2018. In addition to her husband and her sister Carly, she is survived by two children, Julie Simon and James Levine, and four grandchildren.In 1985, Ms. Simon was in the hospital for surgery. She told a reporter that her two sisters had turned up to give her support.“When the stretcher came to take me to the operating room, we sang three-part harmony,” she said. “It lifted me.” More

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      Lenny Lipton, ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ Lyricist and 3-D Film Pioneer, 82, Dies

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      He used the royalties earned from the hit folk song, based on a poem he wrote in college, to fund decades of research into stereoscopic projection.Lenny Lipton, who as a college freshman wrote the lyrics to the classic folk tune “Puff the Magic Dragon,” and then used the song’s bountiful royalties to fund years of pioneering research in 3-D filmmaking, died on Oct. 5 in Los Angeles. He was 82.His wife, Julia Lipton, said the cause was brain cancer.Few people leave much of a mark on popular culture; Mr. Lipton was among the few who got to leave two, and in such wildly divergent corners as folk music and cinema technology.He was a 19-year-old student at Cornell when he sat down at the typewriter of his friend and fellow physics major Peter Yarrow. He had just read a 1936 poem by Ogden Nash titled “The Tale of Custard the Dragon” and felt inspired to write his own.Some time later, Mr. Yarrow found the poem, still in his typewriter, and felt a similar inspiration. He put the poem to music, and in 1963 he and his folk trio, Peter, Paul and Mary, released it as “Puff the Magic Dragon.” It begins: “Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea / And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.”Mr. Yarrow tracked down Mr. Lipton, who was working as a journalist in Manhattan, and gave him credit as a co-writer. (As Mr. Lipton told reporters repeatedly, despite persistent rumors, “Puff” had nothing to do with marijuana.)The song was such an immediate and lasting hit — Mr. Lipton called it his “MacArthur ‘genius’ grant” — that it allowed him to leave his job and move to California. In the Bay Area, he fell in with a circle of independent filmmakers and made several short films of his own.He received even more royalty income from his book “Independent Filmmaking” (1972), which became a niche but durable success, giving him enough of a financial cushion to explore yet another abiding interest: stereoscopy, the technical name for 3-D technology.Mr. Lipton had fallen for it as a boy in early 1950s Brooklyn when the first wave of 3-D films arrived in theaters. He saw them all: “House of Wax,” “Bwana Devil,” “The Maze.” And while the craze passed — the technology was crude, the projectors were hard to synchronize, the cheap eyeglasses that had to be worn to see images in 3-D were clunky — his belief that 3-D was the future of film did not, and in California he began tinkering with ideas to make that belief a reality.“‘Puff’ gave me a lot of freedom,” he said in a 2021 interview with Moving Images, a YouTube channel. “I didn’t have to get a job. I spent years in my little lab in Point Richmond developing my stereoscopic inventions.”Mr. Lipton accumulated some 70 patents related to 3-D technology, among them a screen that switches rapidly between left- and right-eye images, and a companion pair of eyeglasses fitted with shutters that open and close in sync with the screen.He developed that technology, which he called CrystalEyes, in the early 1980s. It soon found applications far beyond the movie theater: Versions were used by the military for aerial mapping, by scientists for molecular modeling, and by NASA for driving Mars rovers.CrystalEyes equipment developed by Mr. Lipton. He had some 70 patents related to 3-D technology.CrystalEyes and other advances devised by Mr. Lipton seeded the emergence of a new generation of stereoscopic filmmaking, used in 3-D versions of movies like “Avatar,” “Chicken Little” and “Coraline.” Today, some 30,000 movie screens across the United States use 3-D techniques that evolved from his innovations.Mr. Lipton “changed the paradigm of the audience’s experience in cinema culture entirely,” Sujin Kim, assistant professor of 3-D animation at Arizona State University, said in an email.Leonard Lipschitz was born on May 18, 1940, in Brooklyn. His father, Samuel, owned a soda shop and died when Leonard was 12. His mother, Carrie (Hibel), a teletype operator, later changed their surname to Lipton.His mother inspired his love for film by taking him to some of Brooklyn’s many grand old movie palaces, like the Ambassador and the Paramount, while his father inspired his love for filmmaking by bringing home a toy film projector. Leonard soon assembled his own, using aluminum foil, a toilet-paper roll and a magnifying glass.He entered Cornell intending to study electrical engineering but quickly switched to physics, where he felt more freedom to experiment.After graduating in 1962, he got a job at Time magazine in New York, then became an editor at Popular Photography. After work he would head to a small theater in the Morningside Heights section of Manhattan, where he and some friends presented the latest movies to emerge from the city’s underground film scene.He did much the same in California, though without the need for a day job. He wrote a weekly film column for The Berkeley Barb, an alternative newspaper, and made several short documentaries shot on 16 mm film, including “Let a Thousand Parks Bloom,” about the clashes surrounding People’s Park in Berkeley, and “Children of the Golden West,” a rambling, touching portrait of his countercultural friends.In addition to “Independent Filmmaking,” Mr. Lipton wrote several other books, among them “The Super 8 Book” (1975), “Lipton on Filmmaking” (1979) and, in 2021, “Cinema in Flux: The Evolution of Motion Picture Technology from the Magic Lantern to the Digital Era,” an 800-page opus on the history of movie making.Along with his wife, he is survived by his children, Noah, Jonah and Anna. He lived in Los Angeles and died in a hospital there.Mr. Lipton had an idealistic certainty about the coming dominance of 3-D films, but he was also critical of the way Hollywood had limited its use to cartoons and action movies.“I had hoped that stereoscopic cinema would be about actors and acting and involve people in stories about the human condition, but that’s not what happened,” he told Moving Images. “What happened is, it’s a cinema of spectacle.”Still, he held out hope for something different around the corner.“As soon as someone has success, financial success, a stereoscopic documentary or a stereoscopic buddy comedy, then the studios will copy it,” he said. More

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      Joanna Simon, Opera Singer from Famously Musical Family, Dies at 85

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      A renowned mezzo-soprano, she grew up alongside her younger sisters, Carly and Lucy, both of whom became singer-songwriters.Joanna Simon, a smoky-voiced mezzo-soprano who grew up in a family loaded with musical talent, including her younger sisters Carly and Lucy, before forging an acclaimed career as an opera and concert singer, died on Wednesday in Manhattan. She was 85.Mary Ascheim, a first cousin of Ms. Simon’s, said the cause was thyroid cancer. Ms. Simon died in a hospital a day before Lucy Simon’s death at 82 at her home in Pierpont, N.Y.Ms. Simon was one of the best-known American opera singers to emerge in the 1960s, a time when arts funding was flush, audiences were full and gleaming new music palaces were opening, chief among them the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center in New York.She made her professional debut in 1962 as Cherubino in Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro” at New York City Opera. The same year, she won the Marian Anderson Award, an annual prize given to a promising young singer.She stood out for her range of material, mastery of foreign languages and willingness to take risks on contemporary composers. She was the first to sing the role of Pantasilea, a courtesan in 16th-century Italy, in “Bomarzo,” by the Argentine composer Alberto Ginastera, when it made its debut in 1967 at the Opera Society of Washington (today the Washington National Opera). That performance won her worldwide acclaim, and she reprised it in New York and Buenos Aires.She was equally regarded as a concert singer, performing classical and contemporary songs, including “Over the Rainbow.”A few days before one recital in New York, in 1975, she tripped on a rug in her apartment and broke her leg. Rather than call off the show, she mounted the stage on crutches.“As soon as I was sure that my voice hadn’t been affected, I knew I would go on,” she told The New York Times.Her easy grace and glamorous good looks made her a popular guest on television talk shows. She sang and sat for interviews on “The Tonight Show” and “The Dick Cavett Show,” and she was a featured performer on the last original telecast of “The Ed Sullivan Show” before it went off the air in 1971.In her embrace of popular culture, Ms. Simon was not too far removed from her singer-songwriter sisters. Carly Simon achieved lasting fame in the early 1970s with pop hits like “Anticipation” and “You’re So Vain.” Lucy Simon sang with Carly early on — they were billed as the Simon Sisters — and later found success as a composer. She received a Tony nomination in 1991 for best original score, for the musical “The Secret Garden.”The sisters occasionally crossed paths. Joanna sang backup on Carly’s album “No Secrets” (1972) and Lucy’s album “Lucy Simon” (1975), and Carly played guitar offstage during Joanna’s performance on “The Mike Douglas Show” in 1971. Carly wrote her own opera, “Romulus Hunt,” released as an album in 1993; it featured a character named Joanna, a mezzo-soprano.The sisters grew up singing and playing music together and remained close as adults, avoiding the petty jealousies that often ensnare siblings engaged in similar careers.“When Lucy was 16, I envied her hourglass figure,” Joanna Simon told The Toronto Star in 1985. “When Carly first became successful, I envied her first $200,000 check. But those feelings lasted for 20 minutes, and I didn’t dwell on them. I knew it was a given in the operatic world that very few achieved that kind of success. I never expected it, so I wasn’t disappointed.”Ms. Simon in “Bomarzo” with New York City Opera in 1967, the year the opera, by the Argentine composer Alberto Ginastera, had its debut. She was the first to sing the role of Pantasilea, a courtesan in 16th-century Italy, in that opera. New York City OperaJoanna Elizabeth Simon was born on Oct. 20, 1936, in Manhattan, the oldest child of Richard L. Simon, a publisher and founder of Simon & Schuster, and Andrea (Heinemann) Simon, a singer and homemaker. The family lived in Manhattan and, later, the Fieldston neighborhood of the Bronx.The Simon children took to music early; Joanna could play piano at 6 years old. In high school she thought she would become an actress, though by college, at Sarah Lawrence (which Carly also later attended), she had switched to musical comedy. Then a voice coach encouraged her to consider opera.Upon graduating in 1958 with a degree in literature, she continued her opera training in Vienna, then returned to New York to start her career.Ms. Simon, who lived in Manhattan, married Gerald Walker, a novelist and editor at The New York Times Magazine, in 1976. He died in 2004. She dated Walter Cronkite until his death in 2009.In addition to her sister Carly, she is survived by her stepson, David Walker, and a step-grandson. Her brother, Peter, a photojournalist, died in 2018.Ms. Simon continued to sing professionally through the early 1980s, then gradually pulled back before retiring in 1986 to join “The MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour” on PBS as a cultural correspondent. She won an Emmy Award in 1991 for a documentary on creativity and manic depression.Funding for arts programming at “MacNeil/Lehrer” eventually dried up, and her position was cut. Casting about for a new career, she became a real-estate broker. Within six months, she told The Times in 1997, she had sold $6 million in property. She later became a vice president of her company, Fox Residential Group.While her musical background wasn’t the key to her newfound success, she said it sometimes came in handy.“When I take customers into potential apartments, I go into the next apartment and vocalize,” she said. “If they can hear me, it’s no deal.” More

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      How to Be Medea? Summon Your Anger and Despair, and Hit the Gym.

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      Sondra Radvanovsky has taken on one of opera’s most grueling roles. “You can’t just act it,” she said. “You really have to live it.”It was intermission on a recent night at the Metropolitan Opera, and the soprano Sondra Radvanovsky was in her dressing room — eyes closed, head bowed — working to summon distant memories.Radvanovsky, who sings the title role in Luigi Cherubini’s “Medea,” was thinking of her father, and the day, more than three decades earlier, when she was 17, that she had found him dead after a heart attack at her childhood home in California. As part of her preperformance ritual, she began to recite the feelings coursing through her as she looked back: loss, abandonment, love and hatred.“He’s here with me,” she said, looking at her father’s driver’s license, which she had placed on a piano, not far from a pouch containing her mother’s ashes.The moment of reflection was all part of her efforts to channel the pain and despair from her life into “Medea,” a tour-de-force opera in which her character, the vengeful sorceress, commits a series of dark and disturbing acts, including murdering her own children.“You can’t just act it,” she said. “You really have to live it.”“Medea,” which opened the Met’s season and will be broadcast to movie theaters around the world on Saturday as part of the company’s Live in HD series, has emerged as a career-defining performance for Radvanovsky, 53, who has won praise for her intense and eerie portrayal.Radvanovsky as Medea, on opening night of the Met’s fall season.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesShe has approached the role — one of the most demanding in the repertory — with focus and purpose, adding boxing sessions with a personal trainer to build stamina and strength, and rehearsals with her vocal coach to ensure her singing remains warm and resonant throughout the three-hour opera, during which she rarely has a break.“Medea” has also proved to be defining on a personal level for Radvanovsky, offering cathartic escape from a trying period in her life: Her mother died in January, and she separated from her husband of 21 years in February.“It’s been very therapeutic for me,” she said. “The rage, the sadness, the depression, the loneliness — I’m unpacking these emotions and feelings in my own life, and onstage.”David McVicar, the director of “Medea,” said he felt Radvanovsky had found a way to draw on her pain without being overpowered by it.“She was able to channel that energy, rather than allowing it to destroy her,” he said. “She was able to turn it into a character, she was able to get it out, to express it, to make some art out of those difficult emotions.”He added: “Weirdly, playing a role like Medea, I think, has been really healthy for her. It’s cathartic.”The idea of tackling “Medea” came in 2017, when Radvanovsky sang the title character in the Met’s production of Bellini’s “Norma.” Her vocal coach, Anthony Manoli, suggested she spend some time looking at “Medea,” and she began to notice similarities with “Norma.” She said she thought that it would be a natural next challenge, both emotionally and vocally.“It’s in the same vein,” she said. “I find it like bel canto on steroids.”Soon, she was discussing the idea with McVicar, a frequent collaborator, and Peter Gelb, the Met’s general manager.Radvanovsky with her trainer, Jason Lee. “The singing part has to be second nature,” she said. “The rest of the apparatus is what you really have to focus on. What we do is very athletic.”George Etheredge for The New York TimesGelb said that he had been impressed by Radvanovsky’s mastery of the dramatic Italian repertoire. In addition to “Norma,” she had performed, to wide acclaim, Donizetti’s Tudor operas at the Met in 2016, a bravura feat that Beverly Sills made famous in the 1970s at New York City Opera.“If any other singer had asked me” about “Medea,” he said, “I would have probably not have responded as positively.”He added, “My instinct was when she said she wanted to do it that we should do it, knowing that it’s a real tour de force for a singer.”Even with the Met’s support, Radvanovsky knew she was signing up for one of the biggest challenges of her career.The opera has a daunting legacy. Maria Callas defined the role of Medea in the 1950s with a series of seminal recordings, and her interpretation still looms large. And it’s a physically exhausting undertaking: Medea does not leave the stage once she enters, about 40 minutes into the first act, then is given subtle high notes, expansive arias and an abundance of passages that demand both nuance and power.“It is vocally herculean,” Radvanovsky said.The turmoil in her personal life added to the difficulties. The death of her mother, who had Parkinson’s disease and Lewy body dementia, left Radvanovsky depressed and lonely.“I knew that it was going to be hard,” she said, “but I didn’t know it was going to be almost insurmountable.”The dissolution of her marriage was also a shock. In the aftermath, she felt uncertain as she began exploring her own independence for the first time in decades. She also underwent a physical transformation, losing about 40 pounds.Radvanovsky, who has to stalk the stage and writhe, showed off her kneepads at a dress rehearsal. Sinna Nasseri for The New York TimesAs she prepared for the demands of the eight-run performance of “Medea” at the Met, she began personal training sessions with a focus on strengthening her core muscles.In between boxing and bench-pressing at a downtown Manhattan gym recently, Radvanovsky said she was often exhausted for the entire day after a performance, and noted the bruises on her legs. She must writhe and stalk the stage in an unwieldy dress and sing in a variety of supine positions.“The singing part has to be second nature,” she said. “The rest of the apparatus is what you really have to focus on. What we do is very athletic.”On opening night last month, she was intensely focused. In the moments before the performance, she said she decided to “open Pandora’s box” and allow herself to experience the trauma of her life more deeply. It was the first time in her career that she could not recall anything about the performance aside from her entrance and exit.“I really felt I was Medea,” she said. “I didn’t see an audience. I just saw the people onstage.”Critics applauded her energy and intensity, some commenting that she seemed unfazed by the demands of the role.“Giving her all in a writhing, high-note-hurling take on the spurned sorceress of Greek myth, pacing herself cannily and commanding at full cry, Radvanovsky would have deserved credit simply for showing up and taking on one of opera’s most daunting vocal and dramatic challenges,” Zachary Woolfe, The New York Times’s classical music critic, wrote in a review.Her recent success has led to talk of future engagements at the Met. Gelb said he and Radvanovsky were discussing several possibilities, including three operas by Puccini — “Turandot,” “La Fanciulla del West” and a return to “Tosca” — as well as Ponchielli’s “La Gioconda.”In her dressing room after a recent performance, Radvanovsky was energetic, standing at a sink as she used shaving cream to wash fake blood off her hands. She said she felt uplifted knowing that her performance had resonated with thousands of people.“It’s such an emotional role, and it’s an emotional time for me,” she said. “I feel a sense of relief.” More