FROM THE PODIUM

Three years ago, I was approached by the National Orchestral Institute at the University of Maryland and Wolf Trap Opera in Northern Virginia to lead a new production of the Weill/Brecht masterpiece Seven Deadly Sins. Best known for their collaboration in Three Penny Opera, composer Kurt Weill and librettist Berthold Brecht turned the operatic world upside down with their gritty dramatic works steeped in ironic wit and jazz-infused lyricism. Remember “Mack the Knife?” That’s Weill. Seven Deadly Sins has become Weill’s sleeper hit and has been more and more frequently performed over the last decade or so. Why? First of all, the music is fantastic, but also the story eerily resonates with the present state of the world, nearly as much as when it was written 90 years ago.

I jumped at the opportunity to work with these two esteemed ensembles, and to conduct this unique “Ballet Chanté” where the lead character is portrayed by both a singer AND a dancer. This bifurcation sets the stage for a psychological exploration of “id” and “ego” and catalyzes a deeply emotional experience. The plot circulates around the motivations and pitfalls of modern American life. It is at times humorous, risqué, and profoundly moving, with an eclectic musical palette that includes ragtime, waltzes, barbershop and torch songs. Witty and tuneful, the opera is brilliantly conceived. Unlike grand opera, it is intimately constructed in seven “chapters”—each corresponding to one of the “deadly sins” as well as brief prologue and epilogue. Spoiler alert: each chapter takes place in a different American city, linked to its corresponding “sin.” When he composed the work, Weil had yet to visit the USA, so sometimes the connections are a little odd: Boston is “lust,” and Memphis is “pride” for instance—but who’s to cast the first stone, anyway?

As the creative team of the National Orchestral Institute and Wolf Trap Opera began rolling up our sleeves to mount this groundbreaking production, it occurred to me that the venue at Hilton Head’s First Presbyterian Church would be the perfect performance space for the small cast of five, and a minimal set.  And so, from the get-go, this production of Seven Deadly Sins was designed as a co-production, and an opportunity for the Lowcountry to experience an exceptional and unique live operatic event. The cast is superb—these young professional singers are a joy to work with, as is director Elio Bucky, whose creativity and attention to detail is both nuanced and daring. Each season, we continue to push the boundaries of musical possibilities that our HHSO achieves. Our dedicated musicians and production team continue to find new and creative ways to bring musical stories to life that are relevant to all who call the Lowcountry home. This will be a singular event that you do not want to miss.

—John Morris Russell, Music Director

From the SoundWaves Studio

Ghosts of SoundWaves Past, Present, and Future

There’s a swirl of street-life activity outside SoundWaves. Brightly costumed visitors and families attempt to play “Joy to the World” on the outdoor chimes and, following the last notes of its season and as the sun sets, SoundWaves warms itself and begins to settle down for a well-deserved holiday break. Echoes of the orchestra playing “O Come All Ye Faithful” seem to reverberate in the distance. The last person leaving the building glances at the “holiday hours” sign and offers a solitary “good night” followed by a more softly “Merry Christmas” with a passing reference to three visitors.

As soon as the door securely locks, a small hand bell falls to the floor. It’s not much later when a figure appears, the Ghost of SoundWaves Past. “Why are you here?” asks SoundWaves, but to be interrupted by a faint memory of a young performer playing with a microphone and speaking into it. Then, another memory; this time of a small group, performing to what quite generously might be described as a modest crowd. And again, another episode, this one of a time when the doors remained locked to visitors, and cameras were trained on only a few performers centered in the room streaming live content to the world. Then, a singer, a pianist, melodies of Neil Diamond and Burt Bacharach, collaborations of Rodgers & Hammerstein, and a litany of many iconic Broadway melodies. And finally, nothing… An empty space. The silence eventually is broken when someone returns, perhaps an office member, security personnel, technical staff, or even the landlord? Something was uttered about one time during a past Christmas, and then again, silence. The ghost of SoundWaves Past is gone.

Only moments later, seemingly a world away, a sense of the moment rushes SoundWaves. It is Christmas Eve, a decorated tree remains, yet there are no presents. SoundWaves again succumbs to this uncertain subconscious sense of hyperreality. Again, a figure appears, another ghost it would seem, this time of the Present. Further emerging in thought as drink glasses are clinked and supper is served, SoundWaves is immersed in music, sonority enveloping the moment. Sounds of the American Song Book, Jazz, Country, Yacht Rock, and Holiday Carols dominate the moment. Crooners and rockers ebb and flow in and out of focus. Gullah Geechee rhythms permeate the atmosphere. The room spins from the acoustic vortex of the variety of clashing styles and harmonizing chords. Rounds of applause and cheers from capacity audiences soon displace the music. Guests drink to the health of such insidious and decadent sounds. Celebration continues as wine flows freely. SoundWaves is pleased even as those toasts to long life might be mistaken as assurances. And finally, as suddenly as its arrival, and as had been with the Past, … silence. Emptiness. The Ghost of SoundWaves Present too has disappeared.

SoundWaves is now alone and quiet for a long moment. The darkness is frightening, and SoundWaves recalls the earlier, now eerier, mention of three visitors. It is that third visitor whose presence becomes known, yet with indistinguishable features. SoundWaves says, “Speak to me.” Like the other apparitions, this one says nothing. SoundWaves pleads, “Tell me what is to happen. Show me what I must see.” Another vision. Light illuminates a cold, empty room, absent equipment and instruments, only walls and a ceiling. No music. No audible sounds whatsoever. SoundWaves now recalls the three spirits and to this declares, “You cannot tell me that I must watch and do nothing, that Christmas will be without music, without hope.” And then, like the others, The Ghost of SoundWaves Future has vanished.

SoundWaves awakens and looks around the room. “Tell me that I am not too late. The curtains. They are mine, and they are real. They are here. I am here. Merry Christmas. A Happy New Year to all the world.”

With that, SoundWaves announced countless merry events filled with food and song. Music and Joy filled the room for years to come. SoundWaves proclaimed, “God bless us, every one!”

—Mario Incorvaia, HHSO Chief Operating Officer