In honor of Lou Harrison’s birthday (May 14), we’d like to share a few pieces of writing kindly sent to us by composer John Luther Adams, for whom Harrison was a long-time mentor and friend. Adams wrote the work ‘for Lou Harrison,’ to be performed at this year’s Festival on Saturday Evening, in 2003-2004. Below are Adams’ notes for the piece, as well as an essay on the work by Peter Garland:

“Lou Harrison was a generous friend and wise mentor to me for almost 30 years. His faith in and support of my music was a decisive influence in my life. I learned more from my time with Lou than from any of my institutional studies. And he was an inspiring model of how to live, without regret or bitterness, as an uncompromising independent composer.

Composed in 2003-2004, for Lou Harrison completes a trilogy of large-scale memorial works that also includes Clouds of Forgetting, Clouds of Unknowing (1991-95) and In the White Silence (1998).

for Lou Harrison encompasses the most lush textures in my music to date, moving in four tempo layers (in the proportions 4/5/6/7) throughout. Rising arpeggios over sustained harmonic clouds alternate with long solo lines over “procession-like” material in nine continuous sections –each grounded in a different five-, six- or seven-tone harmony. The formal structures of the composition recur throughout the score, but the sound of the music is always changing.

for Lou Harrison was not commissioned. I composed this work because I was compelled to do so in response to the passing of one of the most important figures in my life. Amid the daunting realities of today’s world, Lou Harrison and his joyful ecumenical life and music seem more vital and more pertinent than ever.”

– John Luther Adams

Read Peter Garland’s essay on for Lou Harrison >>
Read John Luther Adams’ blog post, “Remembering Lou” >>

Further Reading:
“My Memories of Lou Harrison” – by Festival friend Jain Fletcher >>
Lou Harrison: A World of Music documentary film project by director Eva Soltes >>

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The Ojai Music Festival is pleased to share that OjaiU, a free three-week online course centered on the 2013 Festival, will be launching Wednesday, May 15. These courses are designed to help audiences “listen smarter” and enable them to gain deeper insight into music. Far from being simply “program notes,” OjaiU is built around the ideas that animate the thinking behind a Festival like Ojai, featuring observations by performers, critics and experts.

Watch a video preview of OjaiU below and sign up for classes here >>

The OjaiU courses are led by Douglas McLennan, editor and founder of ArtsJournal.com and feature guest instructors including Festival Artistic Director Thomas W. Morris and 2013 Music Director Mark Morris. Other instructors are composer John Luther Adams, pianist Jeremy Denk, dean of the Juilliard School Ara Guzelimian, music and dance critic John Rockwell, filmmaker Eva Soltes, and Los Angeles Times classical music critic Mark Swed.

• Ideas and the Power of Music: Great art says something about the culture around it. Just how that happens is easy to see in visual art or theatre or dance. But music is largely an abstract art form. So how does music engage ideas? Does music have important things to say about our contemporary culture?

• Music in its Place: Music is an evocative art. A few bars can set you in the Old West, a busy city or a faraway country. Music can also express identity. But how? Certainly by quoting cultural references we all know. But the relationships between composers, their music, and the places they want to evoke can be much more complicated. The music of composers such as John Cage, Lou Harrison, Charles Ives and John Luther Adams not only works to evoke place and identity, but also to interact and adapt to the places, context and circumstances in which the music is being performed and heard.

• Dance and Music, a Love Story (It’s a little more complicated than that): For many, it’s tough to imagine dance without music; the two are inextricably linked. So does dance come out of music? And if so, is dance a subordinate art? Or is it MORE subtle than that—a collaboration, a partnership or dialogue? We’ll explore the relationship.

Classes begin May 15 and take place each Wednesday leading up to the 2013 Ojai Music Festival. OjaiU is free and open to the public.

Visit the OjaiU website >>
Click here to sign up for OjaiU >>

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Listen to a special advance release of the 2013 Ojai Music Festival Preview CD, featuring Festival Artistic Director Thomas W. Morris and Gail Eichenthal of Classical KUSC. Or, click here to download and save to your computer for later listening >>

With special thanks to:

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We’ve been hearing recently that lodging options in Ojai have filled up for this year’s Festival weekend. But not to worry, here are a couple of additional options to help you find a place to stay:

In Ojai: Several locals rent out rooms and guest houses throughout the year. You can find listings, read reviews, and make reservations on airbnb.com. Click here to view >>

In Oak View: Oak Ridge Inn is located six miles from downtown Ojai and still has a couple of rooms available. Call 805 649 4018 for current availability.

In Ventura: Ventura is a 25 minute drive away, but with free parking in Ojai, it’s easy to drive up for the day and leave your car. Stay on the beach at the Crowne Plaza, or be conveniently located downtown at the historic Clocktower Inn or Bella Maggiore Inn.

Camping: Another possibility for your stay is camping. Camp Comfort is located on Old Creek Rd, just over a mile from downtown Ojai. Camping spots are also available at Lake Casitas.

If you have questions, or need additional assistance, please call the box office at 805 646 2053, and we’d be happy to help you.

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The great redwood has fallen.
Light streams into the forest.
The sound will reverberate
for generations to come.

The passing of Lou Harrison marks the end of an era in American music that began with Charles Ives and continued on through Henry Cowell, Ruth Crawford Seeger, Harry Partch, Conlon Nancarrow, and John Cage.

From left: John Luther Adams, Bill Colvig, Lou Harrison. Photo by Dennis Keeley.

The expressive range, diversity of media, prolific quantity, and consistent quality of Lou’s music are perhaps unequalled among recent composers. From heroically dissonant orchestral counterpoint to explosive percussive rhythms to ravishing, timeless music for gamelan, his body of work embraces most of the important currents in the music of our time.

Lou always fearlessly pursued his own way. While still a young man, he left the competitive careerism of New York City to make his home on the California coast. There, surrounded by the beauties of nature and the richness of Pacific cultures, he created his own uniquely personal world, grounded in his credo: “Cherish. Conserve. Consider. Create.”

As a teacher Lou introduced many young Western musicians to the music of other cultures, or as he called it, “the whole, wide, wonderful world of music.” His diminutive Music Primer remains a wellspring of creative wisdom about the life and the craft of a composer.

Through his wide-ranging friendships, Lou was a central figure, connecting five generations of musical independents. His spirit lives on in his music and through the gifts he gave to so many younger musicians. I feel blessed to have been among them.

Thirty years ago, as an aspiring young composer, I won second place in a composition contest. I was especially thrilled since one of the judges was Lou Harrison, whose music I very much admired. Emboldened, I made the pilgrimage to San Jose State University, where Lou was teaching at the time. I was delighted to find the man himself to be every bit as scintillating and engaging as his music.

From that day on, Lou was a generous mentor, an attentive friend, and an inspiring model to me, as he has been for many other younger composers. Lou always treated me with respect as a younger colleague. His matter-of-fact embrace of my aspirations removed any shred of doubt in my mind that I would make a life as a composer.

When I first visited Lou and his partner Bill Colvig at their home in Aptos, they picked me up at the bus station in Santa Cruz. Bill was driving and Lou insisted that I ride in the front seat. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. From then on, whenever we drove anywhere together this was the seating arrangement. Lou always treated me like visiting royalty.

In my mid-thirties I found myself weighing the risk of quitting my day job to devote myself to composing full-time. My boss offered me the opportunity to continue working half-time. As I often did, I called Lou for his perspective.

As usual, Lou spoke directly to the situation: “There are no half-time jobs, John. Only half-time salaries.”

I promptly quit my job and never looked back.

Over the years Lou taught me many lessons about the art of composition and the life of a composer. He also gave me the best conducting lesson I ever had.

In 1988 Lou and Bill came to Alaska for a concert of Lou’s music with the Fairbanks Symphony. On the program was his Suite for Violin, Piano and Small Orchestra, which I conducted. As a percussionist I’d always had steady time. And as an occasional conductor I’d always prided myself on my precision and attention to detail.

After the dress rehearsal I asked Lou what he thought.

“You remind me of John Cage,” he said.

Intrigued and vaguely flattered, I asked: “How so?”

“Well, you’re more kinesthetic than John . . .”

I grew more intrigued and more flattered.

“When John used to conduct he wanted to hear every detail of the music and he tried to show every nuance of the score. So, of course, the tempo would gradually slow down.”

Instantly I recognized that I was doing the very same thing. At the next night’s concert my conducting was leaner, crisper, and steadier in tempo—a style I’ve tried to maintain ever since.

This lesson from Lou was not just about conducting. It was also a lesson about teaching. Lou was fond of recalling that his teacher Henry Cowell would often begin a sentence by saying “As you know . . .” and then impart some wonderfully unexpected pearl of wisdom. In his own teaching Lou employed this technique brilliantly, using the gentle touch of flattery to prepare receptive minds for the gifts of learning.

For their concert Lou and Bill brought with them the Sundanese gamelan degung, Sekar Kembar. As far as we can tell, this was the first time a gamelan had been heard “live” in Alaska. Bill played various instruments in the ensemble and he was featured as a soloist playing the suling flute in Lou’s tunefully sunny Main Bersama-sama for horn, suling, and gamelan.

This was Lou’s one and only visit to Alaska. But it was a homecoming for Bill. In the late 1930s Bill had left Berkeley to live for several years on the rough and ready frontier of Alaska and the Yukon, and he was thrilled to be back in the North again.

After the concert Lou and Bill came out to my cabin for a party. My place was deep in the woods. I had no running water and heated with a wood stove. The temperature in the boreal forest that night was well into the forty-somethings below zero. Accustomed to warmer climes, Lou was good-humored in his forbearance. But Bill was in his element. The colder it got the better he liked it. The aurora borealis dancing in the sky that night was the icing on his cake.

In 1991 I composed Five Yup’ik Dances, based on traditional songs of the First People of the Yukon-Kuskokwim delta. These pieces are composed entirely of “white notes,” with no sharps or flats. After looking through the score Lou was very enthusiastic, saying: “You’ve rediscovered those seven tones as something wild, fresh and new.” Encouraged by Lou’s reaction, I went to compose Dream in White on White—a larger work in Pythagorean diatonic tuning which led eventually to the seventy-five-minute expanse of In the White Silence.

Sometime in my mid forties, I began to feel acutely the professional limitations of my life in Alaska. While colleagues elsewhere had blossoming careers, things seemed to be moving very slowly for me. I thought seriously about moving someplace closer to the centers of musical life. I decided to apply for a fellowship and asked Lou if he would write a letter of recommendation for me. Although he was very busy, he cheerfully agreed.

When I received the letter first thing I noticed was the signature, in Lou’s incomparable calligraphy. (This was before the development of the lovely “Lou” computer font.) But beyond the elegance of his hand, I was touched by the heart of his message. Among other things Lou observed that by choosing to live in Alaska I had chosen to develop a deep relationship with place and to avoid what he called “the group chattering of the metropolis.”

This, he said, had allowed the growth of my work to be “both integrated and in ‘real time.’”

Clearly Lou understood the meaning of my life choices better than I did!

I didn’t receive the fellowship. But that letter from Lou was an enduring gift. I haven’t thought about leaving the North since.

One summer when an orchestral work of mine was performed at the Cabrillo Music Festival, I spent a memorable week with Lou and Bill. After the concert that included my music we had dinner. My piece had been well performed and well received, and I was in an upbeat mood. At the time Lou was enjoying a surge in performances of his orchestral music, and I suggested that this must be gratifying to him.

“It’s nice,” he said. “But it’s not really what we do.”

I asked him to elaborate.

“The orchestra is a glorious noise. But the heart and soul of our music lies elsewhere. We’re the ones who form our own ensembles, make our own tunings, build our own instruments and create our own musical worlds. We’re the ‘Do It Yourself’ school of American music!”

I was humbled. Here Lou was finally starting to receive from the classical musical establishment some measure of the recognition he deserved, yet he wasn’t seduced at all. He always had a singular dedication to the deepest roots of his music and an unwavering sense of who he was.

At a time when gay couples were still largely invisible to the straight world, Lou and Bill openly and tenderly showed their profound love for one another. Their thirty-three years of shared life and devotion are a model and an inspiration for all couples.

As their flowing beards and hair turned white, Lou and Bill grew to resemble one another more and more. When Bill died in 2000, Lou was at his side, holding his hand. “It was a peaceful death,” said his soul mate. “He was so beautiful . . . like a beautiful animal returning to Nature.”

Like many of their friends, I worried that Lou would soon follow Bill. But he continued his life and work with undiminished energy and enthusiasm well into his eighty-sixth year. When he died, he was on his way to a festival of his music.

As Lou once quipped: “All good things come to an end. Even the twentieth century!”

Yet Lou Harrison and his joyful, ecumenical life and music seem more vital and pertinent than ever before.

-John Luther Adams, 2003

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Applications are now being accepted for the 67th Ojai Music Festival, June 6-9. Positions include ushering, backstage crew, venue set up, and merchandise. In addition, office assistance is needed prior to the Festival and during the weekend. Volunteers receive a free Festival shirt and complimentary lawn tickets based on the number of volunteered hours as a token of appreciation.

Celebrating its 67^th season, the Ojai Music Festival, June 6-9 will explore the musical interests of its Music Director Mark Morris. The Festival will also feature the Mark Morris Dance Group and MMDG Music Ensemble, the American String Quartet, The Bad Plus, red fish blue fish, Gamelan Sari Raras, and many others.

Download a volunteer application here >>
Questions? Please call (805) 646-2094 ext. 116.

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The Ojai Music Festival is fortunate to have amazing patrons who share their own personal experiences with music, from their past and present. Long-time patron, Jain Fletcher, kindly gave us a personal account of her friendship with composer Lou Harrison. 

Facing pages from my copy of Lou Harrison’s Music Primer.

I entered San José State University (SJSU) in 1967 as a music major (flute). I was very fortunate to enter an environment consisting of a relatively young faculty of musicians who were energetic and capable of instituting and carrying out some really exciting musical initiatives. Although I took it all for granted at the time, in looking back, I have realized that the epitome of my music training and experiences took place in college.  For everything that was good about the Music Department during my years at SJSU (1967 to 1979, from B.A. to M.A.), the greatest part was the benefit of having a sublime eminence on the faculty: Lou Harrison was on the staff as Composer-in-Residence.  

When I first got to college, I never could have foreseen that I was going to have any personal interaction with Lou.  What I did know, from the enthusiastic buzz about him, was that I wanted to experience as much as I could of what he had to offer. So, in those early days, I kept my ears and eyes open for news of concerts with his music, and then attended every one. I also took his survey course, “Music and World Cultures,” in my freshman year. Given that this course was open to all students there was no way it could have been as awesome as it would have been if it had been addressed to music majors or graduates. But think about it: a class on world music(!) from Lou Harrison!!  Needless to say, it was a complete eye-opener. Sure, he knew his subject, but better yet, he was an excellent teacher. I had never heard anyone discourse so articulately and beautifully in- or outside a classroom. Because he was so passionate about this topic, it was also a difficult course to do well in. In the end, what he introduced in that class opened up a whole new world of music for me at a very impressionable time of my life.

From my observations over time, the San José State Music Department flourished because of Lou Harrison’s presence there. The faculty and administrators were happy to feature his music whenever possible, so they gave him every chance to put on performances. Although there was an excellent concert hall in the Music Department, there were also other venues for staging these performances. One of these was the school’s oldest building, Morris Dailey Auditorium, where Lou presented concerts that attracted audiences extending far beyond those consisting only of music majors. Perhaps those brightly-colored unusual instruments and his non-traditional music were the attractions that initially brought audiences to these concerts, but it was the inventiveness and exuberance of his music that proved to be right up the alley of a hip (read: “hippie”) and forward-thinking student body.

Another avenue for hearing Lou’s music was through Tony Cirone’s SJSU percussion ensemble concerts.  Tony, who was also a percussionist with the San Francisco Symphony, regularly programmed Lou Harrison’s music on these concerts. The concerts with Lou’s music almost always featured Lou’s instrument creations, too, so Tony often needed to consult with him on his intentions about how he wanted these instruments to sound. Over that time, Tony and Lou became great partners, it seemed to me. I went to every single one of those concerts. In fact, nothing could have kept me away from them! In some ways, I cannot say which enthralled me more, Lou’s music or the new-found joy in discovering that whole concerts could be played on percussion instruments.

By my junior year, my performing ability had progressed to the point that I had become the “go-to” flutist (also oboe, English horn, and the other-sized flutes) for playing on student and faculty recitals and concerts. I even had a few chances to play flute with the percussion ensemble. I don’t remember if I was lucky enough to play in one of their chosen pieces of Lou Harrison’s music, but I do believe that being on those concerts brought me somewhat closer into Lou’s sphere.

Around 1968, Lou decided he wanted to publish what he called a “primer” laying out some aspects of his knowledge, experience and thoughts related to his music. He wrote it out and wanted it rendered into calligraphy—but he was just too busy at the time to do it himself. He put out a call for calligraphers, interviewed and reviewed their work, then chose a man named Ron Pendergraft to “calligraph” his book.  For some reason, Ron performed most of his artistry at a table in the Student Union in the summer and fall of 1969 and was happy to entertain “onlookers” to talk with him as he worked. As a music copyist (one of the many ways I paid my way through college), I found this entire production absolutely fascinating. I sat with Ron often, asking him lots of questions along the way. The resulting book he penned for Lou was called, Lou Harrison’s Music Primer, and was published by C.F. Peters (Edition Peters no. 66431) in 1971. I can provide this information easily, you see, because I bought a copy the moment it came out. And I have it still; it is a part of my well-tended “Lou Harrison folder”. (Fortunately, yet another positive aspect of having Lou on the faculty was that his books were often available in our student book store, so I have a few other “treasures” as well in my folder.)

By my senior year, between the concerts and calligraphy, and perhaps because Richard Dee (Lou’s long-time protégé) and I had independently become friends, I started becoming more known to Lou. He was kind enough to ask me questions about what I was doing with my music. When I was nearing graduation from SJSU, I told Lou I thought I ought to go to New York to see what I could make of myself. He thought that sounded like a good idea. In fact, he even went further, telling me that he was friends with “Julie” Baker and offered to write me a reference.  At first–until Lou made it clear to me–I hardly recognized this name to be that of Julius Baker, who had recently retired from the New York Philharmonic, where he had been principal flutist. Lou followed through and did write a really nice reference for me. I was thrilled enough that Lou had done this for me and would have been ecstatic even if it had ended there. To my surprise, however, it bore fruit! While I am sure it was more to accommodate Lou as a friend than any interest in my playing, “Julie” agreed that he would be willing to audition me as a student–if I got to New York.

Read Part II of Jain’s blog! >>

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A general letter of reference I requested from Lou after I graduated (B.A.) from San José State.

In my last year of school, I started trying to make plans to go to New York, but with my chronic lack of funds, my chances were not looking very promising. At around that same time, Lou told me he was being asked to make a tour of New York state with his small group (Bill Colvig and Richard Dee) and, since I was “going to New York anyway” he had some music for violin (ossia flute) and drone that he thought would be nice to have me play on the concerts. I could not imagine saying “no” to this unbelievable opportunity, so I happily agreed. To prepare for our tour, we spent at least 3 weekend days at Lou’s and Bill’s place in Cabrillo, practicing the music for the concert. After that, we would have a little dinner before I coaxed my ’56 VW back over the Santa Cruz mountains to San Jose.

Practicing for the concert was very special, indeed, but I treasure even more the chance I got to be with Lou and his friends in his and Bill’s very colorful and comfortable home. The most pleasant part of those dinners was the stories they would tell.  My most vivid memory of those stories was this one time when Bill and Lou regaled me over dinner with their recent adventure at a local hardware store trying out various metallic canisters to be used as “drums” (such as galvanized steel garbage cans) or beaters (such as hammers and large bolts, etc.) for a piece they were going to be staging soon. I could not help imagining the look on other shoppers’ faces when they saw two men pulling several garbage can lids out into the aisles to test their sound qualities–all the while engaged in a spirited discussion of their relative merits. When I registered both my delight and amazement at this story, they assured me that they had long since managed to garner the proprietor’s “blessing” for this activity. I also remember how much Lou shared of himself at his house. I remember asking one evening about how he got such beautiful handwriting. He not only told me how he got his start at calligraphy (which I have managed to forget after all these years), but he also gave me my first impromptu calligraphy “lesson”. He wanted to show me how “easy” it was to make the strokes, first by showing me, then by letting me try. My results could not have been much more than scribbles at the time, but his lesson “took”, because it gave me the courage to continue. About three years later (when I was working in a book and art supplies store), I had my first real chance to learn some calligraphy–and I have practiced it since. Not to either Lou’s or Ron’s level, mind you, but it pleases me anyway…

As to the tour itself, there was a little remuneration involved, and I also managed to scrape together the funds I would need to fly to New York (my first ever plane trip!) and went along with them. We started in Buffalo, where we received a wonderfully welcoming reception. For one, each of us was housed with a faculty member and treated as his or her personal guest. There was also a party at Peter Yates’ house on our first evening. (It was quite evident how highly Lou regarded Peter Yates [and the sentiment was returned in full force], and that made me respect him without question, despite having never heard of him. But there was just something about him that made me know he was worthy of that respect, so I just kind of sat quietly around his circle when I could. But I was not aware, until much later, about all that Yates had done for music in California. So it wasn’t until many years later that the last chip finally fell into place for me!)  Aside from our eminent host, there was a large gathering of current composers and other musicians at his party—an altogether dizzying array of personages for me. (If memory serves correctly, I believe one of the guests was Ned Rorem, but I have forgotten the rest.) After a few days in Buffalo, we traveled to Albany and then finally, to NYC (where, as I am fond of telling people, Virgil Thomson was in the audience–asleep!!)

After the tour, I stayed in Poughkeepsie, New York with some friends. While there, I decided to contact Julius Baker to see if I really could arrange some flute lessons. His home was in Carmel (emphasis on the first syllable), along the Hudson River about halfway between Poughkeepsie and NYC. He ended up accepting me as a student and I traveled to Carmel five times during that very snowy winter. Aside from the interesting repertoire he introduced me to, I remember him being “blown away” by my tone–each and every time I played for him. He would exclaim, “How did you get that beautiful tone??! “–not really seeming to need an answer.  Still, since I had honed my tone throughout my career, it was extremely gratifying to hear someone of his stature and experience making such a comment—especially so often!

Despite the fact that I found a job in Poughkeepsie soon after arriving in New York, my funds were such that I could not seriously pursue a music career in New York (it hadn’t taken me long to realize what a naïve plan it had been), so I returned home a few months later by Greyhound, spending my last dollars on the fare. About a year later, when I had returned to a state of relative solvency, I went back to SJSU for a Master’s degree (in Music Literature–as close to Music History as SJSU had to offer).  One of the most memorable music events during the mid-1970s was the Bicentennial music festival that SJSU put on for a week in the summer of 1976.  If it had not been for Lou and the seemingly unending pool of friends he could tap, San José State would never have been able to implement such an ambitious plan at so high a standard. I do not remember every musician and composer who was there, but I do remember performing a beautiful solo flute piece by Alan Hovhaness, who was in the audience (and listening!). Every time Lou brought his friends to San José State, the results were outstanding for all of us.

The Carlos Chávez concert program in Lou’s calligraphy; this is my autographed copy with the composer’s kind comments

Another memorable performance along these lines came when Carlos Chavez was going to be in the Bay Area and Lou convinced him to come to SJSU where he promised we would give a concert of his music. One of the pieces chosen for that concert was a wind sextet, Soli II. Because it was so difficult for all the players, Chávez claimed he had never had success with performances of that work. For that reason, he insisted that professional musicians from San Francisco be brought in to play it. This meant paying union rates to these performers, which the Music Dept. agreed to do. The musicians were contacted and all was set. However, a glitch occurred when the flute player called somewhat later and declined, saying the part was too difficult to play. They scrambled to find another union flutist, but to no avail. So, Lou finally decided to suggest me for the job and was able to defend his case successfully to his friend.  As for me, I agreed to do it even without knowing quite what a challenging work I would be facing.  I was simply committed to working hard on it because I could never have let either Lou or Chávez down. I am glad to say that the concert went very well and Chávez was pleased. Having interactions like that with important composers was indeed something special, but it was also Lou’s generosity that gave me the chance to perform in some really special concerts. I have been grateful to him all my life for those wonderful experiences.

I always appreciated my great good fortune in being able to see, experience and play Lou’s music for so many years. But it wasn’t until I left San José State that I realized that I had, unexpectedly, taken our special experiences with Lou at SJSU for granted. After the sumptuous saturation of Lou Harrison music in my college years, it has been difficult since that time to find concerts featuring his music. So, you can imagine how thrilled I was at the end of last year’s Festival to notice a sign that announced the composers represented in OMF 2013–and it included Lou Harrison!  So, this year I will be attending every offering related to Lou Harrison with utter elation at the chance to bask in his music again. Thank you Mark Morris and Ojai!!!!!!!!!!!!

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