“Had to Be” for Solo Cello and Orchestra 

Nathalie Joachim

Haitian-American singer, flutist, and composer, Nathalie Joachim, was born on December 12, 1983 in Brookly, NY. Equally at home in indie-rock, popular and classical music, she has become a vital artistic voice. A graduate of the Juilliard School of Music as a flutist, Joachim founded Flutronix, an ensemble that has worked collaboratively with other contemporary musicians. She later joined the Chicago-based group Eighth Blackbird. She currently holds faculty positions at Princeton University and the University of Hartford, among others. One of her most recent works, Had to Be, was co-commissioned by the Spoleto Festival USA, the Chautauqua Institution, the New York Philharmonic, and the Orchestre Métropolitain. It was composed for cellist Seth Parker Woods and received its premiere performance at the Spoleto USA Festival in Charleston, SC on May 6, 2024. The work is Joachim’s first work for large orchestra and soloist, and is scored for solo cello, flute (doubling piccolo), oboe, clarinet (doubling bass clarinet), bassoon, 2 horns, trumpet, trombone, bass trombone, off-stage ensemble comprising trumpet, trombone, snare drum, percussion, and strings.

The United States in the late summer and early autumn of 1968 was fraught with tension—the agony of the ongoing Vietnam War, the heated Presidential Election race between Hubert Humphrey and Richard Nixon, the riots at the Chicago Democratic Convention, the ongoing struggle for civil rights, exacerbated by assassination of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King in April, among other events, made for a volatile, and often toxic, mix. Those of us old enough to remember will recall the controversy caused during the medal ceremony that took place in Mexico City’s Olympic Stadium on October 16, 1968. African-American athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos had just taken the gold and bronze medals in the 200-meter running event. As they stood on the podium, both athletes raised their black-gloved fists during the playing of the Star-Spangled Banner, in a sign of, in Smith’s words, “human power.” Smith later said, "If I win, I am American, not a black American. But if I did something bad, then they would say I am a Negro. We are black and we are proud of being black. Black America will understand what we did tonight."

This event, and Tommie Smith’s statement, “We had to be seen because we had to be heard," was an inspiration for the title of Nathalie Joachim’s “Had to Be.” In her own words, the composer explains how she has woven that signal Olympic moment into a musical tapestry of Black self-expression. As a Black-American musician and composer writing for Seth Parker Woods, another Black-American, her new work offers audiences a fresh perspective. As Joachim writes: 

At their core, fashion and style are external expressions of self that reinforce oneʼs desire for personal freedom by rejecting societally imposed limitations. They are powerful ways to assert oneʼs right to define their identity on one’s own terms, and have historically been wielded in subversive ways that fuel powerful shifts towards liberation. Had to Be taps into the rich history of Black global freedom movements connected to stylistic expression, using Black dandyism, a fashion movement that defies a monolithic understanding of Black masculinity, as a point of conceptual departure. The three-movement work written for acclaimed cellist Seth Parker Woods playfully and assertively disrupts existing conventions of Western classical concert music by undeniably infusing it with Black musical style.

Each portion of the work approaches this idea from various lenses in the African musical diaspora, creating a broader sonic geography that itself is a statement on styleʼs connection to freedom. The workʼs first movement, “Homegoing,” opens with an offstage band that borrows from the celebratory funeral marches observed throughout the Caribbean, while nodding its head at the second line traditions of New Orleans. The movement itself immediately subverts the convention of a concerto as a modality that uplifts a singular entity by having its opening statement derive from a musical practice inherently rooted in collectivity - an honoring not simply of the loss of a singular life, but of the departedʼs rebirth into a new spiritual phase that is carried forward by shared consciousness. The entire movement is underpinned by a hymn that intertwines with soulful melodies delivered by the soloist, an homage to Black American faith traditions. “Flare,” the second movement, takes us to the audacious jazz of early 20th century Harlem and to the polyrhythmic lilt indigenous to the music of West Africa all at once. It invites the orchestra, with bold brass and woodwind statements and ecstatic articulations in the percussion and strings, to dance alongside the soloist in exaltations that are undeniably swung without actually swinging - unexpected statements that defy squareness altogether and contribute to a pulse that is evasive and intoxicating. The final movement, “With Grace,” is post- minimalist in its leanings, drawing inspiration from the likes of Julius Eastman in that it repeats poetic incantations, continuously applying pressure until obliging in a satisfying release. Meanwhile, the soloist resists the pull of this by making an angelic and prayerful ascent throughout. Overall, Had to Be, like its inspirations, is positive, prideful, and radical all at once. It represents the perpetually colorful and complex intersections between race, class, gender, power, and style. It honors what it means to be Black and continuously choosing to be free. 

* Quoted from Black Ivy: A Revolt in Style by Jason Jules and Graham Marsh, page 207

Symphony No. 2 in D Major, op. 43 

Jean Sibelius

Jean Sibelius is indisputably the greatest composer Finland has ever produced. He was born on December 8, 1865 in Hämeenlinna (Tavastehus) and died in Järvenpää on September 20, 1957. His abiding interest in his homeland’s literature (especially the national epic known as the Kalevala) and natural landscape placed him in the vanguard of Finnish nationalism, although few traces of actual folk tunes are to be found in his music. Best known for his patriotic symphonic poem, Finlandia, Sibelius’s genius is revealed most clearly in his Violin Concerto and seven symphonies, of which the Second and Fifth are among his most frequently performed compositions. The Symphony No. 2 is scored for 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, and strings.

It may seem paradoxical, but it is a truism that here is no such thing as a typical Sibelius symphony. Each work was for this composer an adventure in self discovery. One may glimpse idiosyncratic traits in his orchestration, of course, that cut across his music. Among these are the use of extended pedal tones, explosions of granite brass chords (often punctuated by a sudden drop in volume followed by a dramatic crescendo), long passages in parallel thirds in the woodwinds, and a fondness for the timbre of bassoons, clarinets, and horns. Themes that grow out of the middle of measures, and fragments of themes that later coalesce into larger ideas are other characteristics of this composer’s style. Even when one discerns hints of the influence of other composers—Brahms, Wagner, and Berlioz all spring to mind—Sibelius never sounds cloyingly imitative.

Composition on the Symphony No. 2 began in 1901 in Italy, and the work had its premiere on March 3, 1902 with the composer conducting the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra. Could the pulsating accompaniment and folk-like melody that opens the first movement be breathing warm Mediterranean air, far removed from Finland’s struggle for political autonomy? Or does it reflect rather, as Sibelius’s friend Georg Schnéevoight has suggested, “the quiet pastoral life of the Finns undisturbed by thoughts of oppression”? Sibelius gives us no hint of any specific program. Perhaps we should simply enjoy the epic romantic sweep of this Allegretto, a movement constructed, as the composer stated, “as though the Almighty had thrown the pieces of a mosaic down from the floor of Heaven and told me to put them together.” This mosaic, it should be pointed out, somehow keeps faith with the time-honored principles of classical sonata form.

The second movement, Tempo Andante, ma rubato, is another matter. Here is a stark drama tone played out in episodic fragments. The closest thing the listener gets to an actual tune comes relatively early in the movement. A mysterious pizzicato introduction in basses and cellos ushers in a chant-like tune in the bassoons, marked lugubre. The oboe and clarinet attempt to define a new theme, but a gradual speeding up of tempo disrupts the music’s continuity, leading to the first of the movement’s several dramatic climaxes. The scherzo (Vivacissimo) begins as a whirlwind, twice to be interrupted by a folksy melody whose repeated notes remind one of both the accompaniment and the tune that began the first movement. The third statement of the scherzo leads without interruption to the majestic finale, Allegro moderato, whose noble hymnal opening theme is crowned by stirring fanfares in the trumpets and horns. Another notable feature of this movement is its minor-key second theme, written over a persistent ostinato, which Sibelius claimed to have been written in memory of Elli Järnefelt, his sister-in-law, who had committed suicide. Perhaps it is her spirit that prevails at the movement's end, as the gloomy D minor yields to the triumphant D Major. Whatever the case, the effect is most certainly life-affirming.