Say It IS So: Reflections on Guerilla Opera’s 2024 resurrection of my “light tragedy”

In 2024, the ever-adventurous Guerilla Opera reprised my chamber opera “Say it Ain’t So, Joe,” at the Mosesian Center for the Arts in Watertown, Massachusetts, 15 years after having premiered it in 2009. As of now, I’m still processing my feelings about this intense, ephemeral, and ultimately exhilarating experience.

In the middle of an election season that ended disastrously, set against a background of death and mayhem in the international news, October 2024 couldn’t have felt more different from September 2009, when Guerilla Opera mounted the premiere production of “Joe.” Earlier that year, I had composed the music at a furious pace, while the US recovered from a financial crisis and intractable international conflicts proceeded apace. It seemed reasonable to think that some of the Obama administration’s ambitious endeavors would yield positive, lasting changes in American life.It also seemed that the previous year’s election results constituted an emphatic rejection of the toxic brand of politics epitomized by the vice-presidential candidacy of one Sarah Palin of Alaska.

However, the primary subject of my opera was not Sarah Palin, but the 2008 vice-presidential debate between Palin and Joe Biden, as well as the media hoopla surrounding it. Background biographical details about the two candidates were relevant only insofar as Palin and Biden brought them into the debate and their media appearances.  My goal was not to use the opera to convey any particular political message. Instead, I wanted to use music as a magnifying glass to scrutinize some of the fascinating peculiarities of discourse that I had observed in that odd political moment.

On the surface, it was an opera without a conventional dramatic arc; After an opening scene which reflects back on the debate from the near future, the debate itself happens, is interrupted numerous times by tangential diversions but keeps resuming, and finally ends. By labeling the opera a “light tragedy,” I meant to underscore the political death that is implicit in the failure of Palin’s candidacy, with the candidate abandoned alone on-stage in the final moments of the opera, then suddenly interrupted and extinguished as if a TV set has been turned off.

Contentious as it was, the debate itself offered little to me in the way of structure for a music drama. Instead, the opera’s shape was loosely modeled on my own subjective experience of watching and listening to the debate, with restlessness, frustration, laughter, and contemplation in the music mirroring my own changing modes of reception when originally watching the debate, and perhaps that of other viewers. Over the course of the opera, intrusions upon and distortions of the debate material become more persistent and fantastical, while the singing becomes less speech-like and more lyrically operatic, occasionally returning to “reality” as if waking from a reverie. So the opera isn’t about the people debating onstage so much as it is about my experience of that political moment, or more generally, about the experience of observing political debate during any number of different fraught times in political history.

Many people asked me more-or-less the same question at the time of the original project (in 2009): How do you think this opera will age? This question didn’t particularly interest me at that time, because predicting the future with any specificity seemed futile. My goal with “Joe” was to create a musical and dramatic reflection of a particular moment in history, while trusting that some of the political conditions (for better or worse) would remain relevant in the future. The opera also reflected my ongoing interest in making music out of — or bringing out the music inherent in — human speech, especially the speech of distinctive public figures with idiosyncratic modes of expression.

More than fifteen years later, I can now begin to address the question of how “Joe” has aged. Of course, some of the minutiae of the political discourse of 2009 have receded into obscurity. And a certain amount of the verbiage is already treated by the 2009 music as almost disposable, relegated to a kind of patter, or musical connective tissue that was never especially integral to the overall intelligibility of the opera. Yet in re-encountering this work in 2024, I also recognized that certain political tropes remained constant. For example, Palin’s ranting in the opera about the unfairness of the media feels like a rehearsal for the current administration’s full-on ideological war against established media outlets.

Indeed, the opera as whole acts as a kind of prequel to our present national political condition; with the benefit of hindsight, the Palin candidacy now represents a faltering step in the evolution of contemporary right-wing politics. There’s both comedy and ominous foreshadowing in Palin’s strange utterances. Someone could write a treatise tracing the progression of non-sequiturs in Republican political speech, from George W. Bush, to Palin, to the weaponized solecism and sophism that we hear from today’s GOP. When Palin in the opera sings “I am your future…” and the instruments then sustain and amplify her final note, literally carrying it into the future even as the voice fades away, it now feels chilling to realize that we’ve arrived at that future.

For a 2024 audience, in the wake of his disastrous debate performance that led to his dropping out of the presidential race, it was interesting to be reminded of a younger, more politically adept (if also verbally clumsy) version of Joe Biden. The opera makes music out of turns of phrase that never left his active repertoire, many of which were just as familiar in 2024 as in 2009, even as his speech became more disjointed. In revisiting the opera, I experienced some discomfort with what could be interpreted as mockery in the music, with Biden’s stumbles over words mimicked at times in the instruments. What had once perhaps seemed like a bit of lighthearted (if sardonic) comedy, highlighting the contrasting quirks of both candidates’ voices, felt occasionally a bit crude and harsh. Stepping back into my 2009 mindset as composer, I recall that the literal, musical (i.e pitch contour and rhythmic) characteristics of these voices were the original impetus behind the opera’s composition. The entire endeavor arose out of the idea of musically highlighting the distinctive and strange qualities of these two speakers’ voices. Because most of the libretto (and large portions of the actual melodies) were literally transcribed from the debate, I perhaps had the illusion that my vocal settings maintained a kind of objectivity. However, I did favor some of the most comically awkward and verbally clumsy utterances from both politicians. Aside from a few moments where the musical setting flirts with crass caricature, I still greatly enjoy the comedy of some of these strange lines, with their accidental redundancies, e.g.

Palin: “I want to talk about, again, uh, my record on energy, versus your ticket’s energy, uh, ticket also.”

Biden: “You had actually the belief that Wall Street could self-regulate itself.”

An interpretation I’ve come to in retrospect is that often the instrumental music in my opera can be understood to imply particular attitudes on the part of an imagined person who is listening/viewing the 2009 debate. Sometimes, this spectator respectfully attends in good faith, as when Biden touches on tragic family events that took place near the beginning of his career, or when Palin describes the challenges of raising a special-needs child. At other times, the spectator’s attitude is skeptical or cynically mocking, mirroring some of the mercurial changes in attitude many might experience while watching the debate, when we might be alternately taken in by and put off by the politicians’ performances, as our estimate of their sincerity and authenticity fluctuates.

One passage in the opera that struck me in the 2024 production as having undiminished relevance highlights the fact that both candidates held essentially the same position against gay marriage in 2008. While Biden later “evolved” on the issue, in the opera we hear him and Palin simultaneously dancing awkwardly around the topic but converging on the same answer, confirmed by moderator Gwen Ifill’s pithy response: “Wonderful. You agree.” More than one attendee at the 2024 performance mentioned to me that they had forgotten that both presidential tickets essentially had the same public position on this in 2008!

Gwen Ifill is one of two people depicted in the opera who have since passed on. Ifill, a remarkable and trailblazing Black journalist, is the one character in the opera who is portrayed without irony or mockery, though she brings her own wry wit to the drama. In 2024, the limited role her character plays feels like a bit of a missed opportunity. By contrast, Joe “The Plumber” Wurzelbacher, who died more recently, is the focal point of caustic comedy in Act 2 of the opera. I find myself now untroubled by his characterization in the opera, which is honest in its depiction of the role this man briefly played in political history, with his portions of the libretto made up almost entirely of his own words.

________________

I make all the above observations as if I were in a position to comment objectively on my own opera, which is, of course, not really possible for a composer to do. Yet one of the most extraordinary and rare benefits of having an opera produced for a second time after a long hiatus is that I did get to revisit the project with a fresh mind and ears. This brought me closer to the experience of those who heard the opera without having composed it than would otherwise have been possible.

I note that this particular opera of mine has generated more polarized reactions than anything else I’ve ever written. “Joe” has garnered me some of the most exuberant praise I’ve ever received (including from total strangers), and some of the harshest condemnation as well. I’ve got friends who liked the opera and have offered useful feedback and critique. There are other people (including good friends!) who, upon encountering the opera, have forever avoided the subject with me henceforward. I do not begrudge them this! The internet and the grapevine have brought me word over the years of people who not only dislike my opera, but who regard it as a kind of benchmark of awfulness, something that may or may not have been doomed to be awful from the start, but which attained a level of intolerability beyond redemption.

Of course, it’s in the nature of opera to prompt strong reactions. A lot of people are pretty clear in their minds about what they want and don’t want from it! The most frequent criticisms that I’ve encountered seem to come from those who learned about the basic premise of my opera before experiencing it, developed notions/expectations in their minds about what it would be or ought to be, and then were disappointed/aggravated when it failed to meet those expectations. The clearer someone is in their mind about what they love and want/require from opera, the more likely it is that I’ve let them down and/or annoyed them.

The much rarer and more useful critique can come when someone has a pretty accurate notion of the things I was actually trying to do, and can then assess how well I met my own goals. As with all art and music, it’s productive to examine something for what it is, rather than to get hung up on what it’s not. Even so, objective self-assessment remains elusive.

But if there’s one thing that gives me unambiguous affirmation as the composer of “Joe,” it’s the fervent devotion of the members of Guerilla Opera who tackled this extremely demanding work not once but twice. On both occasions, I was blessed to be able to collaborate with an astonishingly talented creative team as well as truly extraordinary interpreters. What I asked of the singers in this opera goes well beyond what might be considered reasonable. The three participants in the Palin-Biden debate, for instance, are expected to sing in a way that mimics speech quite exactly, neither mere ‘recitative’ nor “sprechstimme,” but fully literal transcriptions of spoken words, with pitches and rhythms that are precisely specified, AND they also must transform into full-on lyrical singers, and back again! My previous collaborations with singer Jennifer Ashe proved that these musical acrobatics were possible, at least in the case of such a uniquely versatile voice as hers. But the artistry and fervency that the whole cast  brought to their realizations of the music went far beyond my expectations, including Jennifer (as one version of Sarah Palin), Guerilla Opera co-founder Aliana de la Guardia (as a contrasting version of Palin), Brian Church (as Joe Biden & Joe “the Plumber”), and Amanda Keil (in multiple roles).

Amazingly, the 2024 production brought back all four of those singers who once again gave it their all, and added mezzo-soprano Isabel Randall in the role of debate moderator Gwen Ifill, which had formerly been a dual role. And despite the even tighter rehearsal constraints of the new production and the performance being “on-book,” there were aspects of the vocal performances from all five singers that actually surpassed the original in their vibrant characterizations and vivacity.

Meanwhile, Guerilla Opera cofounder and percussionist Mike Williams was the only returning member of the original instrumental ensemble, with newcomers Amy Advocat on clarinets, Philipp Stäudlin on saxophones, and Stephen Marotto on cello. Anyone who’s acquainted with the Boston-area new music scene will recognize that this is an all-star ensemble, guaranteed to bring the virtuosic score to life again with just as much ferocity as the talented original line-up. Which is certainly what they did!

The biggest differences between the 2009 and 2024 productions had to do with the rest of the creative team and their technical circumstances/constraints. Director Nathan Troup and scenic designer Julia Noulin-Merat headed up the 2009 production in a tiny black box theater at the Boston Conservatory, in a run of six sold-out performances where resources and space were extremely tight. Despite a small budget and extreme time constraints, this was a fully costumed and off-book production, with a set design that featured partially dismantled mannequins, closed circuit TV feeds on multiple screens, and intimate proximity between the singers and the audience.

In 2024, the relatively large and luxurious Mosesian Center hosted just one evening performance, technically a “concert performance” but with some staging and design by Keithlyn Parkman and projections on a big screen by Tláloc López-Watermann.

So, how did it go? Well, as I’ve indicated above, the singers and instrumentalists performed spectacularly well. I was brought into the rehearsal process quite late, and witnessed some of the stress of putting together an ambitious project in very little time, as if after 15 years the singers could simply slip right back into their roles. Not so easy! But by the day of the performance, i.e. the dress rehearsal, everything miraculously converged in a thrilling and vibrant rendition. What’s more, it had something that the original production did not: supertitles. Even though intelligibility of the text seemed quite good to me overall in both 2009 and 2024, the focal point provided by the projected text added enhanced clarity and a mental anchor, making for a more cogent listening experience (especially, I think, for those hearing the music for the first time).

For an on-book performance in which the singers didn’t move around much, I thought it felt very alive, and a great deal of this was the result of the projected video, on a large screen behind the performers. Incorporating imagery which set the scene, footage of the singers themselves, and contextual information that grounded the drama, Tláloc’s projections provided visual excitement without overcrowding the production. The 2009 premiere had more of a scrappy, hectic character which I found to be persuasive, distinctive, vital, and fun, if a little chaotic at times (inevitable given the space it was crammed into). But, given that my music is quite complicated at times, with overlapping ideas that sometimes interrupt one another, a high degree of rhythmic momentum much of the time etc, I felt that the new production was very well served by having visuals that reinforced and distilled the drama, rather than introducing another layer of information competing for our attention.

In short, the production was all that I had hoped it would be, and more, with all of the thorny logistics suddenly yielding in the final hours to something magical. There were, of course, little mishaps and miscues here and there. (It should be noted that this is ferociously difficult music to coordinate and that it was performed with no conductor.) But I know these musicians well, and even at precarious moments I felt surprisingly relaxed in the audience, knowing that this particular group would not be easily derailed, nor would their performance be any the less compelling for the occasional glitch. It was a committed and persuasive rendition that truly made me proud.

And about the critical reaction? Well, in 2009 there were quite a number of reviews and blog posts and other buzz surrounding “Joe.” Reactions to the original production ranged from near-ecstatic praise to puzzlement to excoriation. Anyone who writes music with avant-garde leanings, or has artistic ambitions that are not even remotely in sync with commercial trends, is going to have to develop a thick skin. And “Joe” certainly helped to thicken my skin, especially as reaction was quite divided even among new music aficionados. It perhaps didn’t help that some of the earliest performances were comparatively a little ragged, though they became much sharper by the end of the run.

Then there’s also the fact that opera simply contains so many ingredients, and any one of them can be a make-or-break issue for opera audiences. There are certainly many ingredients in “Joe” that might be off-putting to some: Much of the music is in a rather angular, post-tonal language. It is informed by aspects of raucously avant-garde jazz. It includes a type of vocal writing that might seem to some to be blaspheming against good taste and convention. The music is busy, often complicated, the text is often delivered at a speed much closer to that of actual speech than is typical for opera. These are all things that please me, truth be told, but I’m not unaware of their potential to alienate certain audience members.

It occasionally bothers me that someone might encounter some of this music, dislike it for reasons that really don’t apply to any of my other work, and write me off entirely henceforward on account of it! But the truth is I’m still very proud of this opera, and am not threatened by the likelihood that it will strike some as tasteless, excessively abrasive, even inept (depending on your frame of reference), etc.

I can’t tell you anything about critical reaction in 2024, as media coverage of the local new music scene is now almost nonexistent, or is at best something of a decimated ecosystem. I can only offer my own thoughts. From the vantage point of 15 years, I’m still limited in my ability to adequately assess my own work. At the time of last year’s performance, I had recently turned 50 and had become a very different composer, one who wouldn’t make many of the same choices that the 35-year-old Curtis who composed “Joe” made. But, I have to say that I….. REALLY LIKED IT.

For a period of about 6 hours, spanning the dress rehearsal and the single performance on October 5, 2024, I experienced a kind of bliss that is often fleeting and rare in the life of a composer, in which it all came into focus and it was, I felt, very good.  I’m still not, of course, objective.  But what I can say with a confidence I never had before about this thing somebody composed 15+ years ago is that I love it. I love the music, the pacing of it, the way it was played and sung and presented. I’ve changed so much that I’ll likely never compose anything remotely like it again, but I’m so glad I did it. I also love the people that performed it and who fully committed to it. I treasure live performance, and the nature of live performance is that sometimes little things go wrong, but this has little to do with what makes a performance transcendent. And that was truly a transcendent night in the life of this composer.

I write at such length here in part because this experience was so fleeting, and I’m trying to hold on to it. After the composition and premiere of “Joe” in 2009, followed by a recording project in 2011 that took nearly a year to edit and release, I thought it was all in the past tense. And then, to my great delight and surprise, Guerilla Opera made the immensely impractical and bold decision to revisit it after 15 years. It’s a little hard to say goodbye a second time, but I’m so glad it happened. Whether or not that was the final chapter in the life of this unusual chamber opera, it certainly gave all of us in the audience an unusual vantage point on certain events of 2008, events which prefigure the place we find ourselves in now.