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    Lakota Music Project Merges Two Traditions for One Common Cause

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    For almost 20 years, the South Dakota Symphony Orchestra has been collaborating with Native artists, aiming to address a history of racial tension.The Prairie Wind Casino and Hotel is a couple of modest buildings just inside the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in the southwest corner of South Dakota. On a recent morning, the hotel, surrounded by vast expanses of rolling land, was almost empty, but the low-ceilinged banquet room was filled with music.Nine members of the South Dakota Symphony Orchestra and their conductor, Delta David Gier, were working on a piece with the Dakota flutist Bryan Akipa. They were figuring out how Akipa, who doesn’t read music, could be cued for a new section.Emmanuel Black Bear — the keeper of the drum, or leader, of the Creekside Singers, a traditional Lakota drum and vocal ensemble — was huddling with the composer Derek Bermel in the hotel’s lobby. Bermel had transcribed some Creekside recordings, arranging a part for the symphony players to join with the Native musicians. One challenge: Black Bear and his group don’t commit in advance to a given tempo when they’re performing their richly wailing songs.“Sometimes we get excited and want to sing it fast,” he said of one song. “Sometimes it’s lullaby-ish. It’s not set in stone.”This was a day of colleagues and friends making music together, working through obstacles like those in any rehearsal process. But since the artists involved were part of the orchestra’s longstanding Lakota Music Project, the goal was far greater than just getting ready for a concert: This collaboration between Native American and Western classical artists aimed to address a whole history of racial tension.“Racism and prejudice, how do we counteract that?” Black Bear said in an interview. “I’ve always said it’s through music. If non-Native people can see us in our natural way of life — music and dance and ceremony and prayer — maybe their minds will change about who we are. Not every one of us is the stereotype. We’re not all drunks and druggies.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Television

      Jonathan Joss, ‘King of the Hill’ Voice Actor, Is Fatally Shot by Neighbor, Police Say

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      A neighbor in San Antonio who opened fire on the actor during a dispute was charged with murder, the authorities said. Mr. Joss also appeared in “Parks and Recreation.”Jonathan Joss, the actor best known for his voice work on the animated television show “King of the Hill,” was shot and killed by a neighbor on Sunday night during a dispute in San Antonio, the authorities said.Mr. Joss, who was 59, voiced John Redcorn on “King of the Hill” and also appeared in “Parks and Recreation,” “Ray Donovan” and “Tulsa King.”The neighbor, who was identified by investigators as Sigfredo Ceja Alvarez, 56, was taken into custody shortly after the altercation and charged with murder, the San Antonio Police Department said on Monday.The police did not say what had led to the dispute, which happened around 7 p.m. on the south side of San Antonio.But in a post on Mr. Joss’s Facebook page on Monday, his husband, Tristan Kern de Gonzales, described the shooting as a hate crime and said that the two of them had been repeatedly harassed because they were gay. He wrote that they had returned to a property where Mr. Joss’s home had burned down earlier this year when the shooting occurred. “He started yelling violent homophobic slurs at us,” he wrote in a statement. “He then raised a gun from his lap and fired.”Mr. Kern de Gonzales said that he and Mr. Joss had reported the harassment several times in the past to the authorities, but that it had continued.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Music

      Louis Ballard, the ‘Father’ of Native American Composers, Hasn’t Gotten His Due

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      More than 50,000 spectators filled Kennedy Stadium in Washington on Nov. 27, 1977, for a football game between two bitter rivals, the Washington Redskins and Dallas Cowboys.There was drama in the game, with both teams in the hunt for a playoff berth, but more unusual was the entertainment before and at halftime: an enormous spectacle of Native American music, dance and history. It was, The Washington Post reported, “part of a new movement to re-establish American Indians as first-class citizens in the United States.”At the center of the event was the National Indian Honor Band — 150 students chosen from 80 tribes in 30 states — which played four pieces by Louis W. Ballard. With tens of thousands of listeners, this was probably the most prominent platform a Native American composer had ever had.The performance was a career highlight for Ballard, a pioneering figure who paved the way for the broad upswing in Native composers over the past few decades. He was among the first to negotiate issues that younger artists still face: melding Native and Western classical traditions; the role of his music in social and political activism; expressing his community’s deep history and culture in a modern way.“Ballard was the grandfather of Native American composers,” Jerod Impichchaachaaha’ Tate, one of that next generation of artists, said in an interview. Tim Long, a conductor and teacher, echoed that sentiment: “He is the father of all of us who are Native people in classical music right now.”A composer as well as a pianist, conductor, filmmaker, writer, teacher, compiler of Native songs and national curriculum specialist for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Ballard had his music performed throughout the United States and Europe. He studied with Darius Milhaud and brought Stravinsky to a ceremonial Deer Dance in New Mexico.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Music

      Jesse Ed Davis Was Rock Heroes’ Secret Weapon. And a Mystery.

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      The Native American guitarist graced records by Bob Dylan and John Lennon, but fell to addiction in 1988. A new book and exhibit are telling his story.In the spring of 1967, the blues singer Taj Mahal was about to cut his first solo album for Columbia Records and needed to find a new guitarist in a hurry. He headed to a bar in Los Angeles’s Topanga Canyon, tipped off about a young Native American musician with a mesmerizing touch on the Telecaster. Having already worked with the guitar prodigy Ry Cooder in the short-lived band the Rising Sons, Mahal’s standards were high. But it took barely a minute of hearing Jesse Ed Davis to realize he’d found what he was looking for.“This guy was speaking through his instrument,” Mahal recalled. “In those days everyone wanted to play the blues, but they’d overplay their licks at high volume, trying to get up into the stratosphere. They didn’t have the natural feeling he did — Jesse legitimately had the blues and played it his own way.”Revered by fellow musicians, Davis has remained a cult figure, despite an extraordinary résumé: He played on some of Bob Dylan’s most enduring records, worked closely with multiple Beatles, anchored the band at the Concert for Bangladesh and shaped classic albums by Rod Stewart, Harry Nilsson and Neil Diamond, among others. A complex character who didn’t fit Native American stereotypes or the typical notions of a rock ’n’ roller, in the decades since his 1988 death at 43, he’s remained something of an enigma.The Bob Dylan Center in Tulsa, Okla., is hosting a multimedia exhibition, “Jesse Ed Davis: Natural Anthem.”Zac FowlerThat should change with the publication of the biography “Washita Love Child: The Rise of Indigenous Rock Star Jesse Ed Davis,” by Douglas K. Miller. In conjunction with the book, the Bob Dylan Center in Tulsa, Okla., is hosting a multimedia exhibition, “Jesse Ed Davis: Natural Anthem.” In February, some of Davis’s friends — including Mahal and Jackson Browne — will play a tribute concert at Tulsa’s Performing Arts Center.“Jesse was a phenomenon,” said Browne, whose 1972 track “Doctor My Eyes” was transformed by Davis’s spontaneous one-take solo into a timeless pop hit. “He responded to music in such an immediate way. You always wondered how he became that kind of artist.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Theater

      Overlooked No More: Go-won-go Mohawk, Trailblazing Indigenous Actress

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      In the 1880s, the only roles for Indigenous performers were laden with negative stereotypes. So Mohawk decided to write her own narratives.This article is part of Overlooked, a series of obituaries about remarkable people whose deaths, beginning in 1851, went unreported in The Times.For a long time, theatrical roles for Indigenous characters were laden with stereotypes: the savage, the tragic martyr, the helpless drunk. And it was rare in stories of any kind, on the page or on the stage, for an Indigenous character to have a starring role.By the late 1880s, the actress Go-won-go Mohawk had had enough. “I grew tired of being cast in uncongenial roles,” like meek princesses or submissive women who were restrained in corsets, she told The Des Moines Register and Leader in 1910. So she decided to write her own roles, ultimately carving out a groundbreaking career in which she told stories onstage about Indigenous people as the heroes of their own lives. She also did it while performing as a man.Mohawk’s primary work was “Wep-ton-no-mah, the Indian Mail Carrier” (1892), which follows the title character, a young Indigenous man, as he saves a young white woman from a stampede, winning her heart and earning the respect of her family.The woman’s father, a colonel, offers Wep-ton-no-mah a position as a mail carrier, which he initially turns down. “I could not start being under the control of anyone but the great Manitou,” Wep-ton-no-mah says, referring to the spiritual power of the Algonquians. “I want to be free–free–free like the birds, the eagles and deers — owning no master but one.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Music

      The Musician Building the Great Native American Songbook

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      The musician Tim Long was sitting at his dining room table on a September morning, looking at old family photos and talking about how good can sometimes emerge from suffering.Long’s mother, Stella, a member of the Choctaw Nation, grew up destitute in rural eastern Oklahoma. When she was young, her widowed mother remarried and moved nearby, leaving Stella and her four brothers to fend largely for themselves. The Oklahoma government put the children in boarding school, where Stella caught tuberculosis. One of her lungs had to be removed, and she endured two stints in quarantine that lasted a total of five years.One thing that gave her solace was her discovery of a classical music station on the radio. She developed a special fondness for Beethoven.“Without that, I wouldn’t be in music,” Long, 56, said over cups of oolong tea. “My life would not have happened if she — if my parents — had not had that broader outlook.”Long’s family in Yeager, Okla., before he was born. His father, Fred Long, is in back; his mother, Stella Long, is on the left, with relatives.via Timothy LongLong’s wide-ranging life in music has included playing the violin and piano, conducting, coaching singers and teaching. And now, he has taken on a new role, perhaps the most significant yet: commissioning.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Television

      How ‘Yellowstone’ Captured America

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      When the television series “Yellowstone” began in 2018, it was with a chip on its shoulder. HBO had passed on the show, pitched by its writer-director-executive producer Taylor Sheridan as “The Godfather” on horseback, for not quite fitting its prestige-oriented lineup. It was picked up instead by the fledgling network Paramount, which greenlit 10 episodes, to be broadcast on a rebranded version of Spike TV.Since that relatively low-profile debut, “Yellowstone,” now in its fifth season, has gone from cable underdog to becoming one of the most-watched scripted shows on TV, one that has spawned prequels and spinoffs, a cottage industry of merch and a bit of internal drama among its cast members and producers. Most notably, its best-known actor, Kevin Costner, will not return as John Dutton, Yellowstone’s taciturn patriarch, for the show’s final episodes when they begin airing on Nov. 10.The neo-Western wrapped contemporary ideas of rugged individualism inside the soapy drama of a land-hoarding family’s succession planning. As “Yellowstone” prepares to finally reveal whether one of John Dutton’s kids — Beth (Kelly Reilly) or Kayce (Luke Grimes) or Jamie (Wes Bentley) — can take over the family business, we look back at how the series became both a chronicle of America’s culture wars and appointment viewing across the United States.Filling a Red State VoidFor millions of Americans, “Yellowstone” tapped into a deep unease they have about their changing communities.Emerson Miller/Paramount NetworkSometime in summer 2018, my phone rang in Los Angeles. It was my brother calling from Montana, where we both grew up and he still lives. He wanted to talk about a new Western television show called “Yellowstone.”For the first time ever, he said, Hollywood had gotten something right. Everyone in Montana was abuzz about it — his fishing buddies, the local radio hosts, the waitress at Pay’s Cafe down by the livestock auction yards in Billings. What did I think?We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Music

      Amid Orchestral Waves, the Sound of Cultures Conversing

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      “Natural History,” performed in Cincinnati, is a collaboration between the composer Michael Gordon and the Native American ensemble Steiger Butte Drum.Eleven members of Steiger Butte Drum sat in a circle around a large elk-hide drum at the front of the stage of Cincinnati’s Music Hall last Thursday. Washes of sound from the orchestra behind them built and receded in grand waves.The group was the concerto soloist, of a kind, in “Natural History” by Michael Gordon, one of the Bang on a Can composers who infused Minimalism with rough, rebellious energy in the 1980s. A few times over the course of the 25-minute piece, Steiger Butte Drum, a traditional percussion and vocal ensemble of the Klamath Tribes of Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest, broke out in a ceremonial song, the members beating the drum in fast, dramatic unison as they made a piercing, tangily pitch-bending, wordlessly wailing chant.They were joined by a full chorus, placed in the first balcony: the men on one side of the hall, the women on the other. Percussion in the upper balcony evoked woodland animals; brasses, also up there, let out joyful, squealing bits of fanfare that seemed to tumble down and join lines coming from the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra onstage — eventually rising to a powerful, churning finale, with all these sprawling forces, conducted by Teddy Abrams, going at once.Unsettled and unsettling, both celebratory and threatening, imposing and ultimately harmonious, this was the sound of a cultural conversation that is still, after centuries, in its nascent stages.Native American composers and performers are slowly gaining more visibility after having long been largely ignored by institutions associated with the Western classical tradition. Raven Chacon, a Diné composer and visual artist, won the Pulitzer Prize in Music in 2022. In March, the New York Philharmonic premiered an orchestral version of the Chickasaw composer Jerod Impichchaachaaha’ Tate’s “Pisachi.”And yet Native music, kaleidoscopically varied across the country and its many tribes and heritages, remains only rarely heard, and so only vaguely understood and appreciated, by non-Natives. This is hardly surprising, given the country’s more general neglect of a full, sustained reckoning with its history with — and its often stunningly cruel treatment of — Native Americans.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Television

      Cole Brings Plenty, ’1923’ Actor, Is Found Dead

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      Mr. Brings Plenty, 27, was found dead in Kansas days after his family reported him missing. Officials did not provide a cause of death.Cole Brings Plenty, an actor in the television series “1923,” was found dead on Friday in Kansas after his family reported him missing earlier in the week, officials said.The Johnson County Sheriff’s Office said in a statement that its deputies had found Mr. Brings Plenty, 27, in a wooded area in Johnson County, which borders Missouri.The deputies had been responding to a report of an unoccupied vehicle and found him dead in an area away from it, the statement said. The office did not provide a cause of death.Mr. Brings Plenty, who identified himself as Mnicoujou Lakota on Instagram, played Pete Plenty Clouds, a Native American sheepherder, in the television show “1923,” a prequel to “Yellowstone.” The show depicts abuse toward Native American children in boarding schools established or supported by the government.In May 2023, Mr. Brings Plenty and his uncle Mo Brings Plenty visited the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs in Washington to talk about the boarding schools and other issues affecting Native Americans.Mr. Brings Plenty’s acting credits also include the Western television shows “Into the Wild Frontier” and “The Tall Tales of Jim Bridger,” according to IMDb, the entertainment database. He was a student at Haskell Indian Nations University in Lawrence, Kan.Mr. Brings Plenty’s father, Joe Brings Plenty Sr., confirmed his son’s death in a statement shared by a family spokeswoman, Michelle Shining Elk.“We would also like to thank everyone who came to walk beside us as we searched for my son and provided the resources we needed to expand our search areas,” Mr. Brings Plenty Sr. said in the statement.Mo Brings Plenty shared a missing person’s poster on social media that said his nephew went missing on March 31 and had missed an appointment with his agent, which was “uncharacteristic.”The poster said that Mr. Brings Plenty had last been seen in Lawrence, Kan.The Lawrence Police Department said in a statement that it had submitted an affidavit for the arrest of Mr. Brings Plenty after the police identified him as a suspect in a case of domestic violence that happened on the morning of March 31.The police said that officers had responded to a woman screaming for help in an apartment in Lawrence and that the suspect had fled before officers arrived.“This incident involves allegations of domestic violence, which limits the amount of information we can share to protect the victim,” the statement said.The police said that Mr. Brings Plenty’s family had contacted them, expressed concern and reported him as a missing person. Mr. Brings Plenty was found about 28 miles southeast of Lawrence. More