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    Lincoln Center’s Summer Festival to Focus on Civic Bonds

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    The third edition of Summer for the City will feature hip-hop, comedy, classical music and more, under the motto “life, liberty and happiness.”Lincoln Center said on Wednesday that it would devote its summer festival to themes of community and civic participation, with a mix of hip-hop, comedy, dance, classical music and more under the motto “life, liberty and happiness.”The festival, Summer for the City, will feature premieres of anthems about contemporary hopes and struggles. Classical music concerts will be more participatory than in the past; at one event, audience members will be asked to vote on the program. And civil rights will be prominent, with the New York premiere of an opera about Eric Garner, who died in 2014 at the hands of police officers on Staten Island.“We know the performing arts have a role in strengthening our community and strengthening our civic bonds,” Shanta Thake, Lincoln Center’s chief artistic officer, said in an interview. “This is a time where we can really be together and celebrate the ideas and ideals that we all share.”The third edition of the festival, which will run from June 12 to Aug. 10, is part of the center’s efforts to appeal to a younger, more diverse crowd, in part by promoting a broader array of genres, including pop music and social dance.Under Henry Timms, Lincoln Center’s president and chief executive, the center has shifted its focus from classical music and international theater, prompting some criticism that it is not doing enough to promote traditional offerings. (Timms will depart his post in August; a search for his successor is in progress.)After eliminating the Mostly Mozart Festival, a summer fixture since the 1970s, Lincoln Center renamed the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra, saying that it was time to reimagine the ensemble for a modern and more inclusive age. This season, the Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center, as the ensemble is now called, will convene for the first time under the rising conductor Jonathon Heyward.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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      Goodbye Mostly Mozart, Hello Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center

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      The renamed ensemble will present a mix of new and old in its first season under the conductor Jonathon Heyward.Last summer, Lincoln Center bid farewell to the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra, a fixture of the city’s cultural scene since 1973, saying it was time to reimagine the ensemble for a modern and more inclusive age.On Monday, the center offered a preview of its plans. While the ensemble will remain the same in size and membership, it now has a new name, a new music director and a program aimed at drawing more diverse audiences to classical music.The Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center, as the ensemble is now called, will convene in July for its first season under the rising conductor Jonathon Heyward, as part of the center’s Summer for the City festival.Heyward said in an interview that he wanted to maintain the orchestra’s innovative spirit.“It’s not that I am at all reinventing the wheel,” he said. “We’re just continuing in a way that is very much in line with a previous legacy of the orchestra.”The lineup for this summer includes a world premiere by the composer Hannah Kendall; the North American premiere of Huang Ruo’s “City of Floating Sounds”; and classics by Beethoven, Haydn and, yes, even a little Mozart.There will also be offerings aimed at drawing new people to Lincoln Center, including a “Symphony of Choice” concert in which audience members will be allowed to construct the program by voting, as well as an augmented-reality exhibition about mental health and Schumann, who suffered from depression.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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      For Classical Music, Every Summer Is a Liberation

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      During a time of year in which anything can be a stage, the joy of music making has room to breathe outdoors.A Philadelphia Orchestra concert at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center in Saratoga Springs, N.Y.James Estrin/The New York TimesConsider classical music a late bloomer. In New York, as the city emerges from its winter hibernation — the snow on tree branches replaced by dreamily pastel cherry blossoms, the short, sleepy days extended by increasingly dramatic sunsets — performers tend to remain indoors. A concert in May doesn’t look so different from one in January.But then comes summer.Around early June, orchestras and opera companies close out their seasons, and music making begins to take on new, liberated forms. Instruments that seem so precious onstage make their way outdoors, suddenly looking as casual as the artists wielding them, who sometimes swap their formal concert attire for, well, whatever they want.Samantha Lake with Make Music New York, on Lexington Avenue.The Metropolitan Opera’s float at the New York City Pride March.The old-hat claims of classical music’s elitism and lack of approachability just don’t hold up in summer. Performances pop up as if out of thin air; the New York Philharmonic puts on a series of free outdoor shows that sprawl across the city’s boroughs; everyone, regardless of skill or expertise, is invited to take part in local celebrations for the global Fête de la Musique on the June 21 solstice.A Boston Symphony Orchestra concert at Tanglewood in Massachusetts.During this season, a singer from the Metropolitan Opera might appear on a makeshift stage or in a band shell, performing for passers-by and die-hard fans alike. Friends and families gather on picnic blankets to camp out, some for hours, and enjoy one another’s company, eat and play games before the day culminates in a Philharmonic concert played for thousands more people than could fit inside the orchestra’s home at Lincoln Center.The Met — an institution that throughout its history has been a haven for queer fans but only recently has represented people like them onstage — leaves its velveteen temple to let its hair down and celebrate Pride in the streets, complete with its own float, a mobile concert sung by the likes of the countertenor Anthony Roth Costanzo and the mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe.A Death of Classical concert at Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn.Caramoor.Bard College.Anything, after all, can be a stage in the summer: a patch of grass, a barn, the catacombs of a cemetery. Music moves farther and farther away from concert halls, away from cities into the countryside and mountains. New Yorkers wind their way up the Hudson Valley to the bucolic grounds of Caramoor, or to the expansive lawns of Bard College and its sculptural, Frank Gehry-designed Fisher Center.The Boston Symphony Orchestra, which in town has the air of a bastion of tradition, embraces the relaxed — and relaxing — grounds of its idyllic Tanglewood campus in the Berkshires. Students also stay there for the summer, exploring new music with monastic focus and learning from some of the finest artists in the field.The Met’s float at the Pride March.Pride in New York.Tanglewood.Joan Forsyth with Make Music New York.Things that would be unfathomable in a concert hall suddenly seem possible. The cannons of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” can be literal cannons. The joy of music making has room to breathe, inviting the sounds of nature to join in: a chorus of birds and insects, a roar of thunder, hopefully not the needy wail of a car alarm.A New York Philharmonic concert in Central Park.The Philharmonic’s concert.A Philadelphia Orchestra concert in Saratoga Springs.Soon, it won’t be so pleasant to lay out a picnic spread while waiting for the Philharmonic. As the trees shed their leaves and the sunsets come earlier, the concert hall will become a refuge. But come next summer, so will the outdoors. More

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      Living a ’60s-Style California Dream in 1998

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      It’s not easy to do your job when everyone around you is having a good time.I hugged my father goodbye in Dublin and boarded a plane for New York. My best friend from college was with me. We had student work visas and a vague plan to make enough money to spend the summer in California. We had visions of swimming in the Pacific and walking across the Golden Gate Bridge.After a visit with my cousin in Manhattan, we flew out to San Francisco. It was gray and cold. The hostel on Market Street was more than a little depressing, so we ended up staying with two girls from Ireland in a tiny room on the top floor of a house in Berkeley.The four of us slept on the carpet and shared a bathroom with a bunch of students. After several sleepless nights, I found a thin foam mattress in a thrift shop and carried it upstairs.We fell in love with vibrant Berkeley and spent as much time as we could in its music stores, bookstores and cafes. It was 1998, but the earthy scent of Nag Champa lingered in the air, just as it must have in the hippie days.For a few weeks I commuted on a BART train to a monotonous telemarketing job in San Francisco. Then came a brief stint at a sleazy burger joint off Union Square. In Berkeley I worked at Blondie’s Pizza, which I enjoyed, but none of the jobs paid much, so I kept looking.One Wednesday afternoon I spotted a flyer pinned to the window of a yellow building four blocks from Mission Street: A company called Peachy’s Puffs was hiring young women to sell cigarettes, sweets and other novelties at events and clubs in the area.Curiosity and the need for cash propelled me through the door and into a dingy office. Lining the walls were glamour shots of women resembling movie stars from decades earlier. The job interview was quick and to the point. A dark-haired man seated behind a cluttered desk ordered me to twirl around.“You’ve got a pretty cute body!” he said, looking me up and down.As I filled out some paperwork, he told me to come back on Friday in a nice dress, so that I could go to the Furthur Festival. I had no idea what this festival was, but I was game. He also instructed me to buy new shoes and a flashlight. Then he scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and told me to get a vendor’s permit down the street.When I mentioned the Furthur Festival to my friends, they were thrilled on my behalf. It was almost impossible to get tickets for the event, they said, not to mention expensive, and the Other Ones, a band composed mainly of surviving members of the Grateful Dead, would be headlining.My pals were so excited that they planned to catch a ride to Mountain View, where the festival was held, and camp outside the gates of the Shoreline Amphitheater, where they would be able to hear the music for free.On Friday I was back in the dingy office in San Francisco dressed in a pink vintage frock, a knee-length shift dress that cost $15 in Haight-Ashbury. I complemented it with my worn-in combat boots, since I couldn’t bring myself to spring for new shoes.My appearance failed to impress the man who hired me. He looked me over with a neutral expression, handed me a heavy tray stacked with candy and grudgingly ordered me onto the minivan idling outside.Nervously, I climbed aboard. Three young women seated in the back wore colorful makeup to go with their bright, low-cut belly tops, short pleated skirts and platform sandals. They sat upright, trays on their knees, and eyed my chunky old boots with disdain. Just before the driver slammed the door, a woman in a red flapper dress joined us.On the long drive to Mountain View, I wondered at the exorbitant candy prices. Who would pay $5 for a packet of M&M’s? And I was somehow supposed to sell everything in my tray, or I wouldn’t make any money.The traffic grew thick near the festival grounds, and I began to get a sense of what was going on. This was a movement of sorts, and the movement involved thousands of people of all ages, many of them modern-day hippies in flowing skirts, summer dresses, tie-dye shirts and sandals. There were even a few colorfully painted Volkswagen buses along the road. Everybody glowed.On a grassy hilltop inside the gates, I set down my overflowing tray. Music blasted from large speakers. I sat next to Nubia, one of my new co-workers, and for a while we watched the people dancing in the California sunshine, their bodies loose and happy.I thought of how reserved the Irish are on the dance floor, unless they’ve been drinking. Here, the crowd was alive, energetic and buzzed. White-bearded men twirled with barefoot children. Dreadlocks bounced on bare shoulders.By the time Rusted Root came onstage, Nubia and I could stand it no longer. We jumped up and started dancing with abandon. The air smelled of patchouli. After a while, she lifted her tray and went back to work, but I couldn’t stop. I had barely sold any candy, but I didn’t care.As Hot Tuna played, a few people approached me. Smiling, they plucked packets of candy from the assortment and asked how much they cost. They shook their heads at the price and many walked away.“Overpriced,” I said to the next customer.“A rip-off,” I said to another.And then I started giving the candy away.My offerings were met with warm embraces. A few people even told me they loved me. They called out to friends, waving them over.Darkness fell as the Other Ones took the stage. Their soothing jams sounded like prayers as I danced in the evening chill. My candy was all but gone, but my circle of friends had increased.Grateful for the M&M’s I had given her, and observing how cold I was, a young woman removed a green woolen blanket from her shoulders and draped it across mine. She told me her name was Rose and said the blanket had been knit by her Irish grandmother. She insisted I keep it, even as I objected. We took photos together, our smiles wide, our bodies close.I made no money that day. In fact, I owed the Peachy’s Puffs company $40, which I paid on the spot. It was worth every penny.Carmel Breathnach is a writer and teacher in Portland, Ore. Her work has appeared in The Irish Times, Huffington Post and Beyond, among other publications. More

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      Climate Change Threatens Summer Stages and Outdoor Performances

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      ASHLAND, Ore. — Smoke from a raging wildfire in California prompted the Oregon Shakespeare Festival to cancel a recent performance of “The Tempest” at its open-air theater. Record flooding in St. Louis forced the cancellation of an outdoor performance of “Legally Blonde.” And after heat and smoke at an outdoor Pearl Jam concert in France damaged the throat of its lead singer, Eddie Vedder, the band canceled several shows.Around the world, rising temperatures, raging wildfires and extreme weather are imperiling whole communities. This summer, climate change is also endangering a treasured pastime: outdoor performance.Here in the Rogue Valley, the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is seeing an existential threat from ever-more-common wildfires. In 2018 it canceled 25 performances because of wildfire smoke. In 2020, while the theater was shut down by the pandemic, a massive fire destroyed 2,600 local homes, including those of several staffers. When the festival reopened last year with a one-woman show about the civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer, wildfire smoke forced it to cancel almost every performance in August.“The problem is that in recent years there have been fires in British Columbia and in the mountains in Washington State and fires as far as Los Angeles,” said Nataki Garrett, the festival’s artistic director. “You have fire up and down the West Coast, and all of that is seeping into the valley.”Even before this year’s fire season began, the festival moved the nightly start time of its outdoor performances later because of extreme heat.Wildfires, which generate smoke that pollute air quality over long distances, have already begun burning this year in parts of Europe and the United States. In July, the Oak fire raged near Yosemite National Park.David McNew/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesRecord rainfall in the St. Louis area caused flash flooding. Among the effects: The Muny, a major outdoor musical theater, had to cancel a performance of “Legally Blonde” because of flooding on its campus.Robert Cohen/St. Louis Post-Dispatch, via Associated PressAshland is not the only outdoor theater canceling performances because of wildfires. Smoke or fire conditions have also prompted cancellations in recent years at the Butterfly Effect Theater of Colorado; the California Shakespeare Theater, known as Cal Shakes; the Lake Tahoe Shakespeare Festival in Nevada and the Getty Villa in Malibu, Calif., among others.“We are one giant ecosystem, and what happens in one place affects everywhere,” said Robert K. Meya, the general director of the Santa Fe Opera, which stages open-air productions against a striking desert backdrop each summer, and which, in an era of massive wildfires near and far, has installed sensors to gauge whether it is safe to perform.The reports of worsening conditions come from wide swaths of the country. “Last summer was the hardest summer I’ve experienced out here, because fires came early, and coupled with that were pretty severe heat indexes,” said Kevin Asselin, executive artistic director of Montana Shakespeare in the Parks, which stages free performances in rural communities in five Rocky Mountain West states, and has increasingly been forced indoors. “And the hailstorms this year have been out of control.”Road signs in Ashland, Ore., guide drivers along wildfire evacuation routes.Kristina Barker for The New York TimesIn southern Ohio, a growing number of performances of an annual history play called “Tecumseh!” have been canceled because of heavy rain. In northwest Arkansas, rising heat is afflicting “The Great Passion Play,” an annual re-enactment of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. In Texas, record heat forced the Austin Symphony Orchestra to cancel several outdoor chamber concerts. And in western Massachusetts, at Tanglewood, the bucolic summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, more shade trees have been planted on the sweeping lawn to provide relief on hot days.“Changing weather patterns with more frequent and severe storms have altered the Tanglewood landscape on a scale not previously experienced,” the orchestra said in a statement.On Sunday, the U.S. Senate voted in favor of the nation’s first major climate law, which, if enacted into law, would seek to bring about major reductions in greenhouse pollution. Arts presenters, meanwhile, are grappling with how to preserve outdoor productions, both short-term and long-term, as the planet warms.“We’re in a world that we have never been in as a species, and we’re going into a world that is completely foreign and new and will be challenging us in ways we can only dimly see right now,” said Kim Cobb, the director of the environment and society institute at Brown University.The Oregon Shakespeare Festival is an important driver of the local economy, but smoke and heat associated with climate change have become a growing challenge.Kristina Barker for The New York TimesSome venues are taking elaborate precautions. The American Players Theater in Spring Green, Wis., now requires performers to wear wicking undergarments when the heat and humidity rise, encourages actors to consume second act sports drinks, and asks costume designers to eliminate wigs, jackets and other heavy outerwear on hot days.Many outdoor performing venues say that, even as they are bracing for the effects of climate change, they are also trying to limit the ways that they contribute to it. The Santa Fe Opera is investing in solar energy; the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival is planting native meadows; and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is using electric vehicles.The Oregon Shakespeare Festival, which before the pandemic had been one of the largest nonprofit theaters in the country, is, in many ways, patient zero. The theater is central to the local economy — the downtown features establishments with names like the Bard’s Inn and Salon Juliet. But the theater’s location, in the Rogue Valley of southern Oregon, has repeatedly been subject to high levels of wildfire smoke in recent years.At the Santa Fe Opera, which offers majestic desert views at sunset, concern about wildfire smoke prompted officials to install air quality sensors. Ramsay de Give for The New York TimesThe theater, like many, has installed air quality monitors — there’s one in a niche in the wall that encircles the audience in the open-air Allen Elizabethan Theater, where this summer “The Tempest” is alternating with a new musical called “Revenge Song.” The device is visible only to the keenest of eyes: a small cylindrical white gadget with lasers that count particles in the passing breeze.The theater also has a smoke team that holds a daily meeting during fire season, assessing whether to cancel or proceed. The theater’s director of production, Alys E. Holden, said that, ever since the time she opposed canceling a performance mid-show and later learned a technician had thrown up because of the air pollution, she has replaced her “show must go on” ethos with “If it’s too unsafe to play, you don’t play.”This year the festival reduced the number of outdoor performances scheduled in August — generally, but not always, the smokiest month.Air quality monitors, now in use at many Western venues including the Santa Fe Opera, can help presenters protect not only audience members but also performers. The opera is particularly concerned about its singers.Ramsay de Give for The New York Times“Actors are breathing in huge amounts of air to project out for hours — it’s not a trivial event to breathe this stuff in, and their voices are blown the next day if we blow the call,” Holden said. “So we are canceling to preserve everyone’s health, and to preserve the next show.”Wildfire-related air quality has become an issue for venues throughout the West. “It’s constantly on our mind, especially as fire season seems to start earlier and earlier,” said Ralph Flores, the senior program manager for theater and performance at the J. Paul Getty Museum, which has a 500-seat outdoor theater at the Getty Villa.Air quality concerns sometimes surprise patrons on days when pollution is present, but can’t be readily smelled or seen.“The idea that outdoor performance would be affected or disrupted by what’s happening with the Air Quality Index is still a fairly new and forward concept to a lot of people,” said Stephen Weitz, the producing artistic director at the Butterfly Effect Theater of Colorado, which stages free shows in parks and parking lots. Last summer the theater had to cancel a performance because of poor air quality caused by a faraway fire.The coronavirus pandemic also remains a concern, prompting crew members in Santa Fe to wear masks as they met before a performance of Bizet’s “Carmen.”Ramsay de Give for The New York TimesAnother theater there, the Colorado Shakespeare Festival, is now working with scientists at the affiliated University of Colorado Boulder on monitoring and health protocols after a fire more than a thousand miles away in Oregon polluted the local air badly enough to force a show cancellation last summer. Tim Orr, the festival’s producing artistic director, recalled breaking the news to the audience.“The looks on their faces were surprise, and shock, but a lot of people came up and said ‘Thank you for making the right choice,’” he said. “And when I stepped offstage, I thought, ‘Is this going to be a regular part of our future?’”Planning for the future, for venues that present out of doors, now invariably means thinking about climate change.The Santa Fe Opera’s stunning outdoor location is one of its great attributes, but also makes it vulnerable to climate change.Ramsay de Give for The New York TimesOskar Eustis, the artistic director of the Public Theater, which produces Free Shakespeare in the Park at the Delacorte Theater in New York’s Central Park, said that the 2021 summer season, when the theater reopened after the pandemic shutdown, was the rainiest in his two decades there. “I could imagine performing more in the fall and spring, and less in the summer,” he said.In some places, theater leaders are already envisioning a future in which performances all move indoors.“We’re not going to have outdoor theater in Boise forever — I don’t think there’s a chance of that,” said Charles Fee, who is the producing artistic director of three collaborating nonprofits: the Idaho Shakespeare Festival, the Lake Tahoe Shakespeare Festival and Great Lakes Theater in Cleveland. Fee has asked the Idaho board to plan for an indoor theater in Boise.“Once it’s 110 degrees at 6 o’clock at night, and we have these occasionally already, people are sick,” he said. “You can’t do the big Shakespeare fight, you can’t do the dances in ‘Mamma Mia.’ And you can’t do that to an audience.” More

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      Greetings From My Shameless Summer

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      Wear the crop top. Have the salad — and the fries, too.I live for moments when I feel encyclopedic. Yesterday, at a backyard party, people asked who sang the song that was playing and I screamed out “Keyshia Cole” with a little too much enthusiasm. I was right, and I lit up with such delight that I felt stupid.I always think I’m annoying people, when in reality people aren’t thinking about me at all. Liberating. Anyway, I love being right. It’s fun to be right, and people who act like it’s so Zen and cool and humbling to be wrong are … wrong! Get over yourself! Humility is so 2019; this year is all about shameless bragging.I want to see your vacation pics. I want to see your degree. I want to see your completed pile of beautiful, fragrant folded laundry. I want to see you win.Enough misery. Wear the crop top, flaunt the promotion, show me that salad you made and the french fries you ate when the salad wasn’t enough. As for me, I watched every single season of “Summer House” in less than a month. After I typed that sentence, I went to calculate how many minutes of TV that added up to. I closed the calculator within seconds of opening it because some mysteries are best left unsolved.Trying to be deep is exhausting. I’m definitely getting dumber. Why am I an expert in Mormon swinger TikTok drama? Meanwhile, I don’t know which plants are native to my area. Related to this uptick in Mormon swinger knowledge: I blew through my TikTok limit today (again!). So, once again, it’s time to do my self-care theater of deleting whatever social media app I’m allowing to ruin my life before getting bored again and redownloading it after three hours.“If you’re bored, you’re boring” — honey, prepare the starboard side, because that ship has sailed! I’m boring! And depressed, and anxious, and exhausted, and unwilling to watch a feature film unless I think it’s going to be bad. Where’s that in the D.S.M.? Don’t tell me.A friend recently told me that there aren’t any lightning bugs in Seattle. I couldn’t believe it. It was the same betrayal I felt when I found out that the restaurants in my hometown weren’t all mega-popular national chains. It kills me that I won’t get to see everything you love, no matter how hard I try, no matter who you are. I don’t care if you see the same colors I see — the colors aren’t important to me — but I need you to see a bug’s butt turn on and off as the sun slips away behind the trees of my yard back in Ohio.Maybe my friend was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t paying attention to the bugs all around her all those years. Maybe she was always surrounded by lightning and had no idea. Doubtful.Now I’m back in New York. I was gone for so long, and now you can use your phone to get on the subway. What the hell? Do we like that, or does it suck? Please don’t tell me; I don’t think I actually care. Is that bad? I just don’t feel like I can care about everything anymore. There were a couple years when I cared about everything, and all it got me was an ulcer.I never know what button to press at the gas station. I’m pretty sure I chose diesel for the first few months of driving because I was too scared to ask. Oops! Thankfully I totaled that car, so no one will ever know what I did to its internal organs.Usually, I realize I was in the right place at the right time shortly after I’ve left. The ache creeps in and I want to turn around and go right back to where we just were. I talk myself out of it — everyone’s already on the way home. Too inconvenient. And how humiliating, to be the only one craning my neck toward something that ended. It probably meant more to me than it did to you. But what if you’re looking, too? Is that something that happens only in movies, or should I be on the lookout for longing glances more often?Sometimes I say I have no goals, and I mean it. Is that pathetic or lovely? A little of both, I think. I believe that I can do everything and nothing. I believe I will disappear as quickly as I came, that I can hate olives one day and love them the next, that I’ll keep finding new things to love about myself and others. I believe that one day I’ll turn around to look behind me and you’ll be looking, too. We’ll meet right back at the middle and sit back down in seats so freshly vacated that they’re still warm. There’s something about a warm chair that’s disgusting, unless the heat comes from someone you know and love. Isn’t that funny? Heat from a butt is still heat from a butt, no matter which butt it came from. I digress.I hope you get to see lightning bugs at least once in your life. Their light shines on as quickly as it shuts off until, before you know it, the summer is over and the bugs are dead and you and I are still here, watching the world get bigger and smaller and louder and more cluttered. I’ll outlive millions of lightning bugs, but my butt will never be a light source. We’ve all got our special little things that no one else can claim. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine, pulsing gently in tandem as the pink summer sun climbs back up across the horizon.Episode is a weekly column exploring a moment in a writer’s life. Mitra Jouhari has written for “Big Mouth,” “High Maintenance” and other television shows. She is a co-creator and star of the comedy series “Three Busy Debras.” More

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      Angel Olsen, Yaya Bey and Others On Their Favorite Songs of Summer

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      These tracks will make for a lovely dinner playlist and all but guarantee some after-hours dancing.A lot of us still remember the labor of love that was the mixtape, those countless hours spent pressing record, stop, rewind and play. But, while less time-consuming, curating a digital playlist, rather than relying on an algorithm-fueled compilation, can still be a thoughtful gesture, one that might make all the difference at a dinner party. Song choices can be a way to share (or forget) what’s going on in the world, act as a conversation starter and, above all, set the mood. More

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      Classical Music Has a Hazy Future in Lincoln Center’s Summers

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      The day had been hot and muggy. But a mild breeze was blowing at Lincoln Center by the time the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra took the stage in Damrosch Park on Tuesday evening.The pianist Conrad Tao played an elegantly unruffled Mozart concerto and a daydreamy “Rhapsody in Blue.” Apart from a sprinkling of small performances last summer, this orchestra hadn’t been assembled since 2019, but it sounded comfortable and spirited.In just three years, the group has become an anachronism. The festival whose name it bears — Lincoln Center’s premier summertime event before the pandemic — is no more. The center’s summer, once a messy assortment of competing series and festivals, has finally been streamlined under a single label: “Summer for the City.”Planned by Lincoln Center’s president, Henry Timms, and its artistic chief since last year, Shanta Thake, Summer for the City has hoisted a 10-foot disco ball over the plaza fountain and includes outdoor film screenings, spoken word, social dance, comedy shows and an ASL version of “Sweeney Todd.”Five of New York’s dance companies will come together next month for a few days of performances. And starting on Friday, the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra moves inside to Alice Tully Hall for five programs: 10 concerts over two weeks.Louis Langrée, the orchestra’s music director since 2002, led the performance on Tuesday.Caitlin Ochs for The New York TimesBut despite that packed little orchestral season, other musical experiences that once appeared under the Mostly Mozart rubric have vanished along with the name — including guest ensembles, intimate recitals, and the new music that flows out of the classical tradition and is embodied by the International Contemporary Ensemble, long in residence at the festival but absent this year.Up in the air is the ultimate fate of the Mostly Mozart orchestra, a high-quality, carefully built and expensive group whose music director, Louis Langrée, has been on its podium since 2002. Though Thake told the orchestra on Friday that it would be a part of the summer next year, things get hazier beyond that. And while her vision for the season is still developing, this first iteration seems to have intentionally moved away from swaths of music and performance that have been central to the center’s identity for decades.Which is not to say that Lincoln Center’s summers have been just one thing. As Joseph W. Polisi, a longtime president of the Juilliard School, describes in “Beacon to the World: A History of Lincoln Center,” recently published by Yale University Press, the initial thought was that the center’s own programming would happen primarily in the summertime, so as not to compete in fall and spring with the constituent organizations for which it serves as a landlord, like the Metropolitan Opera and New York Philharmonic.As the campus was being conceived, summer was imagined to be a good time for folk-ish operas and musicals, like “Oklahoma!” or Copland’s “The Tender Land,” or perhaps a film festival; it’s in the DNA for the center’s summer offerings to be ambitious but accessible, populist but serious.The pianist Conrad Tao was the soloist in several works on the program, including a Mozart concerto and “Rhapsody in Blue.”Caitlin Ochs for The New York TimesThe flutist Jasmine Choi played in William Grant Still’s “Out of the Silence.”Caitlin Ochs for The New York TimesThough Summer for the City is taking place largely outdoors, the novelty in those early years was being inside: Midsummer Serenades — A Mozart Festival, which started in 1966 and was renamed Mostly Mozart six years later, was the first festival in New York to take place in an air-conditioned hall.The campus’s Community/Street Theater Festival of the early 1970s morphed, a few years later, into Lincoln Center Out of Doors, a free, outdoor, eclectic mélange: Ballet Hispánico and bluegrass, string quartets and a doo-wop opera, and eventually a helping of social dance as Midsummer Night’s Swing.Mostly Mozart grew to be perceived as stodgy and listless in this company. When Jane Moss — like Thake, a hire from outside classical music — became the center’s artistic leader in the early 1990s, it was believed that part of her brief was to eliminate it. After the Lincoln Center Festival, which hosted ambitious international touring productions, was founded in the mid-90s, Mostly Mozart, which had once lasted up to nine weeks, dwindled from seven to four. A musicians’ strike in 2002 was another existential crisis.But instead of spiking Mostly Mozart, Moss took a firmer hand with the programming, hired Langrée as a partner, and broadened the offerings — eventually to something closer to Slightly Mozart. In 2017, amid budget and management crises, the Lincoln Center Festival folded and Mostly Mozart was set to expand by up to 50 percent to partly compensate. The festival orchestra entered the opera pit for the first time in 2019; there were dance theater productions and the lauded New York premiere of “The Black Clown”; Langrée’s contract was renewed through 2023.During the center’s pandemic silence in 2020, though, Moss decided to step down. And here we are: Mostly Mozart, instead of being expanded, has been eliminated.In a joint interview with Timms, Thake said that this year’s Summer for the City should not necessarily be seen as the model for all to come. “It’s definitely a unique moment,” she said. “We’re coming out of a two-year pandemic. This is our first full expression of what is possible.”Starting on Friday, the orchestra moves inside to Alice Tully Hall for five programs: 10 concerts over two weeks.Caitlin Ochs for The New York TimesReferring to the center’s Restart Stages initiative from 2021, she added: “There had been some proven success in experimentation. What you’re seeing this year is a continued explosion of form, and putting it all under one umbrella.”Summer for the City has the spunky feel of Joe’s Pub, the cabaret space that Thake ran, along with other Public Theater initiatives like Under the Radar and Public Works, before she was hired by Lincoln Center. It also feels like a throwback to the Community/Street Theater Festival and Out of Doors tradition from the early ’70s.That can yield wonderful programming, and much civic good. Growing up just outside the city, I found Midsummer Night’s Swing — with its tango-ing, salsa-ing crowd — exciting and glamorous, the definition of a New York summer night.But those offerings existed in an ecosystem in which classical music — broadly construed as far as style, period and form — was another pillar, not a fringe.Thake insisted in the interview that classical programming has found its way into Summer for the City in more varied, informal ways: as an accompaniment to blood drives and a mass wedding ceremony, and in the form of music-and-meditation sessions in the David Rubenstein Atrium.Timms added: “In terms of volume, probably, the amount of classical music being presented hasn’t changed much. The nature of it has changed, to some degree, though not fundamentally.”Uh-huh.The two leaders implied that the reconception of the summer is pulling the center more toward the role of host, welcoming as many people as it can onto campus, while the constituent organizations handle or at least share the presenting — especially in the classical sphere. The idea, for example, is that the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center’s small set of Summer Evenings concerts can basically take care of what was once Mostly Mozart’s cozy A Little Night Music series, as well as its other solo and chamber events.Other musical experiences that once appeared under the Mostly Mozart rubric have vanished along with the name — including guest ensembles, intimate recitals and new music.Caitlin Ochs for The New York TimesThe danger, of course, is that in reducing redundancies and internal competition, the city simply ends up with less.It’s true that the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra’s compressed season — which began with a week of mentoring and performing alongside student musicians — promises to showcase talented young guest artists. On Aug. 5 and 6, Langrée leads Mozart’s Requiem, a few days before Jlin’s arrangement of that work is the score for Kyle Abraham’s recent dance “Requiem: Fire in the Air of the Earth” — the kind of artistic cross-pollination that should be the center’s stock in trade.Even more important, the orchestra’s Tully concerts are choose-what-you-pay, a ticketing philosophy that should be a model for the center’s whole year. A range of excellent music, painstakingly prepared and performed at the highest level for affordable prices: That is true populism.Instead, classical music, even in its ever-struggling nonprofit form, gets cast as the elitist hegemon for which scrappier alternatives must be found — certainly if much-vaunted “new audiences” are going to be attracted.But classical programming should not be considered a chore, or a bone thrown to a dwindling audience — a familiar one rather than “new.” No, serious performance is a jewel, of which Lincoln Center is one of the few remaining supreme presenters. Conrad Tao playing Mozart with a superb orchestra for free or cheap: That is the core of the center’s mission. Its job is to cultivate audiences for and increase access to that.Which is not to say that change is impossible. Is a resident orchestra with an appointed music director the only way to fulfill Lincoln Center’s mission? Perhaps not. But is there a way of programming such an orchestra so that it could be an integral part of a diverse, adventurous summer season? Yes. Could it be joined to opera, recitals, new music and guest ensembles in broadening what I think Timms and Thake are trying to do: to foster inexpensive interactions with great performance? Absolutely.“We’re still getting our feet under us,” Thake said. “And seeing again, how can we continue to be responsive? How can we move through this season and get a sense of what worked, what didn’t work, what’s next for all of us?” More

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      ‘Ready to Rock, You Guys?’ The Winklevoss Twins Play Amagansett.

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      At the end of a tour that drew some social media mockery, the billionaire brothers’ rock band received a friendly reception at a venue close to their parents’ beach house.The 40-year-old billionaire twins Tyler and Cameron Winklevoss have been on the road with their rock band, Mars Junction, since early last month, crisscrossing the country to offer their versions of songs by Blink-182, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Police, Pearl Jam and Journey. Tyler sings; Cameron plays guitar. On Saturday, they rolled into Amagansett, N.Y., the Long Island beach town not far from where they spent their childhood summers.They arrived in grand style, cruising down Main Street in a 45-foot Prevost tour bus with “Mars Junction” in huge lettering on the side. A Mercedes-Benz Sprinter brought up the rear. The twins’ retinue included the four musicians in the band, a documentary filmmaker, a merchandise salesman and assorted staff members.The two vehicles parked in front of the Stephen Talkhouse, a venue with an old-salt vibe where a number of marquee performers have taken the stage over the decades, including Jimmy Buffett, Jimmy Cliff, Billy Joel, Paul McCartney, Paul Simon, Sheila E. and Suzanne Vega. Mars Junction was closing out the tour with two nights at the Talkhouse on Saturday and Sunday. Tickets were $50.The twins, whose cryptocurrency company, Gemini, laid off 10 percent of its staff in the recent crypto crash, hit a bump on the road to Amagansett. An audience member at the band’s show at the Wonder Bar in Asbury Park, N.J., posted a video of Tyler trying and failing to match the crystalline high notes of the singer Steve Perry in Mars Junction’s rendition of Journey’s 1981 hit “Don’t Stop Believin’.” The clip went viral, and the comments on social media about the twins — former Olympic rowers who made a fortune in Bitcoin after having a role in the creation of Facebook — came in hot.Tyler and Cameron Winklevoss, who were born in nearby Southampton and grew up in Greenwich, Conn., had a much warmer reception at the Talkhouse. By 7 p.m. on Saturday, the place was packed, mainly with young adults in Bermuda shorts and summer dresses who appeared to belong to the same crowd as the Harvard-educated twins. Their parents, Carol and Howard Winklevoss, were in attendance, as were several family friends.Tyler Winklevoss, left, and his twin brother, Cameron, closed a nationwide tour in Amagansett over the Fourth of July weekend.Johnny Milano for The New York TimesThe crowd at the Stephen Talkhouse during the first of two Mars Junction shows.Johnny Milano for The New York TimesThe twins took the stage and dove into their opener, “Top Gun Anthem,” the instrumental theme to the 1986 film and its recent sequel. With his mustache, slicked-back hair, aviator shades and wallet chain hanging from a back pocket, Tyler had a look somewhere between “Top Gun” and Tommy Bahama. Cameron, in an orange shirt and white slacks, had more of a surfer vibe.Suddenly, his legs wide apart and the microphone held sideways, Tyler led the band into Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name.” “Now you do what they told ya!” he sang before leaping into the crowd, where he engaged in a flurry of high-fives and fist bumps with the Mars Junction faithful.“What up, Talkhouse!” he said after the song was done. “Fourth of July weekend, it’s the big one! Ready to rock, you guys?”The hits kept on coming: Kings of Leon’s “Sex on Fire”; Mumford & Sons’ “The Wolf”; the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Can’t Stop.” When Tyler sang Sublime’s “Santeria,” he made a change to the line “Well, I had a million dollars” by replacing the word “million” with “billion.” Cameron executed a wah-wah guitar solo and took a swig of Liquid Death water.Then came the challenging part of the show: the Police medley, which required Tyler to hit the high notes so effortlessly sung by a youthful Sting in his 1980s glory.“So Lonely” segued into “Message in a Bottle,” which morphed into the hard-rocking “Synchronicity II” (“The factory belches filth into the sky!” Tyler sang) before settling into the reggae vibe of “Walking on the Moon.” Tyler was stretching his voice to the limit. Why not make it easier on himself by starting it off in a lower key? But that is not the Winklevoss way.The crowd sang along with the next one, “Flagpole Sitta,” a 1997 hit for Harvey Danger. When the music died down, a young man in the audience repeatedly screamed out a profane chant against Mark Zuckerberg, whom the Winklevoss twins sued unsuccessfully, accusing him of denying them their fair share of Facebook money.“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Tyler said to the rowdy fan, the hint of a smile on his face.He got nostalgic in his introduction to Pearl Jam’s “Even Flow.”“Let’s go early ’90s, yeah?” Tyler said to the crowd. “What do you think? Early ’90s? Pre-internet? Can you handle that? No social media? All right, you want to go back there?”He channeled Eddie Vedder’s growl. Cameron busted out two solos.“Whooooooo!” said the crowd.“We’re going to stay early ’90s for this next one,” Tyler said. “Ready for some Nirvana?”The crowd whooped again.“OK, that feels like a yes!”Then came “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” As they played the next song, the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Suck My Kiss,” their mother, Carol, was clapping along to the beat as their father, wearing a blue blazer and button-down shirt, maintained a stoic demeanor.Tyler Winklevoss tosses Mars Junction T-shirts into the crowd.Johnny Milano for The New York TimesFor the song “You’re So Last Summer,” by Taking Back Sunday, Cameron put on a Mars Junction cap. More were available at the merch table for $20.02 apiece.After the audience sang along to “Mr. Brightside” by the Killers, Mars Junction offered a pair of Journey songs as encores: “Don’t Stop Believin’” and “Any Way You Want It.” The lights came up to the sound of AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells” on the Talkhouse sound system. The twins left to have a late dinner with their parents at Gurney’s in Montauk.Before the Sunday evening show, the brothers took a moment to chat in an upstairs room at the Talkhouse. As Tyler cracked open a Liquid Death, he said the previous night’s show had the feel of a homecoming and noted that his parents still had the beach house in nearby Quogue. He added that Mars Junction was in a somewhat vulnerable position, since it plays such familiar songs.“When you play covers, you’re judged against the recording,” Tyler said. “And the more iconic the song, the more people know the recording, and live’s a little different. So it’s a tough thing.”One thing the Mars Junction experience has taught them, the twins said, was that the life of a touring musician can be wearying.“You’ve got to rest for these shows,” Tyler said. “It’s a huge exertion and, as a vocalist, your voice can go if you’re not careful.”“Guitars don’t get tired,” Cameron said. “But humans do.” More