Kaitlyn M. Canneto
Kaitlyn M. Canneto graduated from The College of New Jersey in 2022 with a B.A. in Music and Minors in Political Science and Spanish. She is currently working toward an M.M. in Music History at Temple University, Boyer College of Music and Dance. Her research focuses on American popular music from jazz to Latin American pop and their social and cultural significance. Kaitlyn will be making regional and international conference presentation appearances this year for the College Music Society, Northeast Chapter, and the International Association for the Study of Popular Music.
Breaking Down Sexism on Saxophone: Performing Gilda Lyons’s hush
hush (2018) is a composition for alto saxophone by Gilda Lyons (b. 1975), commissioned by and dedicated to saxophonist Carrie Koffman. In the score, Lyons captures the feeling of being silenced on the basis of marginalized identity through spoken phrases of implicit sexism and the “shushing” gesture to emphasize the symptoms of marginalization. Any performance of hush is demanding to the saxophonist, both personally and musically, from the depth of the themes present in the composition and the complex notation required for the saxophone.
I explore the heterogenous aspects that convey the intended message of hush through score study and performance analysis, comparing different performances of the piece. Contextualizing the piece with Lyons’s background foregrounds the precedence for her writing of it and collaboration with Koffman. The development of the commission is supported by a 2020 interview from ComposorsNow with both Lyons and Koffman, as well as individually conducted interviews with Lyons and Koffman. Within the score and text, the detailed indications for the performer are identified for their significance to the function of the piece. These observations along with those of recorded performances will guide any conclusions pertaining to the role of the performance, the significance of the performer’s gender, and the meanings of the piece in different contexts. My argument is further supported by the scholarship of Nicholas Cook from “Music as Performance” in The Cultural Study of Music: A Critical Introduction, and Richard Schechner’s “What is Performance,” in Performance Studies: An Introduction.
Composer, vocalist, and visual artist Gilda Lyons describes her compositions as an exploration of the “blurred line of genre[s],” encompassing theater, cabaret, and performance art. Through composition and performance, Lyons strives to “actively push things that [serve as] safety barriers,”[1] reflected in her repertoire of compositions with themes of gender, femininity, and sexism. Her first premiere composition posits the importance of these themes to her work. In 1996, what you want (substance free) was premiered at Bard College where Lyons earned her Bachelor of Arts in Composition, Vocal Performance, and Visual Arts in 1997 and studied composition with Joan Tower and Daron Hagen, and voice with Arthur Burrows. In her compositions, Lyons seeks “[to lead with] welcome, not rage—an invitation to dialogue”[2] for audiences, penning a depth in her work far beyond the ink on the page.
what you want (substance free) exhibits the rage experienced by Lyons as a young woman, passively giggling where “language [was not] readily available”[3] and would be addressed head-on in her later works. This piece is mosaic-like, categorically a work of musique concrète, music composed of recorded sound,[4] featuring the pre-recorded sound of a teenage girl’s voice. Lyons describes the piece as “a not-so-gentle dialogue about the role and perception of a young female voice in American culture … a grotesque caricature of the ‘nice girl’ who has softened every edge, hidden any sign of intelligence, and obliterated her own internal fire for the sake of other people’s comfort and acceptance.”[5] Between the laughter and affirmative phrases, the “nice girl” foregrounds the invalidity of the young female voice, the perceived lack of intelligence, and compulsion to appease others. The content of this piece is informed by personal experience and its conception could have only been by a woman due to its specificity.
Over twenty years later, hush demonstrates “what [comes] next after the shouting and rage.”[6] The conception of hush would not have come to fruition without Carrie Koffman, Lyons’s colleague at The Hartt School at the University of Hartford. Having received a grant to commission a composition Koffman sought “a feminist piece”[7], and turned to Lyons after viewing a student presentation of what you want (substance free). In an interview for Composers Now presents Composer Curator with Eleonor Sandresky, Koffman said “as an instrumentalist, of course, I always have to sing without words, I never get to use words;”[8] Koffman further revealed in our interview, that in the early stages of her commission the saxophonist and Lyons wanted to use the voice of what you want (substance free) integrated with the saxophone. While the 1996 work did not transfer seamlessly into the work, it is sometimes used as a precursor, or first movement with hush. In lieu of the voice from what you want (substance free), Koffman wanted to “speak with a voice that reflected [her] experiences,” revealing “When I started teaching in Fall of 1994, at the time no [female saxophonist] had achieved the rank of full professor.”[9] Thus, Lyons brought the element of spoken word into the piece in addition to the solo alto saxophone. hush was published by Burning Sled Media in 2018 and premiered at the World Saxophone Congress in Zagreb, Croatia in July of that same year.
The composition is broken into three sections of tempo markings: “Entirely free,” “Driven, swing (quarter note = 100),” and “Entirely free again.” Stylistically contrasting, these sections of the piece are a vehicle for delivering the message, and they depict the transit of character, or development of the beginning to the end of an individual character.[10] “Hush,” the titular gesture, drives the piece, establishing the score as a dramatic text.[11] Expressed by the performer, the “shushing” is characteristic of the feeling of being silenced, ignored, or unheard as someone of a marginalized identity; namely, as a woman in a male-dominated society and field. Lyons inserts these as the initial downbeat, between the instrumental phrases, and as intermittent phrases and spoken lines. In doing so, the performer interrupts the voice of the saxophone with the text spoken in order to depict the experience known to them, and emphasizes the personal impact to the listener through performance. The inhalations peppered throughout the composition are described as a contrast to the hush, the latter acting as an exhale. The dichotomy of exhaling and inhaling represents the reception of sexist attitudes, or being hushed, and the inhale is a surprise alert, specifically of being “shocked into awareness of something” as described by Lyons.[12] The awareness is to the sentiments implicit in the text, a reaction to the sexist language.
Both the “Entirely Free” and “Entirely Free Again” sections, considerably A and A’, deliberately express the flexibility and liberties suggested for the performer. Marked “repeat ad libitum” and “timbral shifts, randomly placed” the performer has the discretion to improvise the selected portion in timbral changes, number of repetitions, and/or tempo. Lyons notes “the freedom to shape and drive forward this piece, is essential to allowing for the connection that needs to be there.”[13] Lyons connects this conceptually to keening, the overlap of audibly soulful song and deep sobbing, and in penning “ad libitum” or the like, there is flexibility for the performer to find that space—to mourn and air grievance of being silenced through song. In addition, Lyons adds the depth of lived experience to her work with specific cultural influences. According to the composer, the pulse present through palm to chest taps and clapping are rhythms characteristic of Nicaraguan music that she embeds into all of her works, a product of her Nicaraguan heritage. hush is already personal in the sentiments expressed, and Lyons uncovers in the principal section the deep-rooted rhythm characteristic of a heartbeat used to get her to sleep as a child. According to Lyons, “It’s how I start from vulnerability, it’s the heartbeat.”[14]
The spoken text in the score is a product of multiple exchanges with Koffman, informed by both of their experiences.[15] Koffman revealed in the interview with Composers Now that, “I tried to explain how often I feel like my voice gets buried, and I included a multitude of examples, both personal and, of course societal,”[16] particularly as a female saxophonist. Saxophone is a typically male-dominated instrument, similar to the field of composition; framing the saxophone’s voice as male provides an unsilenced voice to speak for the silenced, to perform femininity.[17] In the score, the text is notated similarly to percussion notation, and while marked both with articulation and dynamics, the rhythms are not given fixed pitches. Like the music, the text also has direction in approach and performance, including “whispered,” “full voice, smiling,” and “intensely focused; clear but unpitched spoken voice.” In doing so, Lyons prioritizes the performance of the spoken text and its preparation to that of the saxophone, and extends musicality beyond the instrument to the human voice. The text is perhaps the most crucial part of contextualizing and delivering the message of hush, and the dictation and guidance provided in the score is necessary to perform it effectively.
On the whole, these phrases are directives to behave and present in certain manners, while also imposing limitations. The first example of this appears at the end of the third system, with the stomp coinciding with “Speak up. Not too loud.” Other examples of this include, “Serious, but happy!” and “Smart AND pretty.” Each is contradictory or paradoxical, or thought to be, exemplifying the gendered expectations imposed by the patriarchy on women’s speech. The spoken and percussive parts seem to respond to the voice of the saxophone between the instrumental lines. Examining these lines as though they are the marginalized individual speaking, they guide the saxophone through each phrase, approaching it differently each time as per the direction of the spoken word. Prior to the climax of the piece, the speaker says “Strong (accented), but not overpowering” leading the saxophone up the register to fast altissimo phrases, perhaps the most characteristically “strong” or instrumentally demanding portions of the composition so far. In response, the speaker adds to the strong directive saying, in “loudest speaking voice,” “capable, but not off-putting,” with notated aggression through a fortissimo crescendo and accented syllables, to which the saxophone subsequently growls. This relationship of phrases characterizes both the saxophone and speaker, challenging previous frames of understanding femininity.
The spoken phrases throughout the score are characteristic of phrases often directed toward women, as described in the program note and easily apparent. Koffman explained that, in developing this piece with Lyons, “I asked for your [Lyons’s] voice, my voice, and every-woman voice.”[18] As a result, the commissioned product is described by Lyons in her note as follows:
“hush” for solo alto saxophone, is fueled by a need to explore, unpack, and reexamine the ways a [formerly ‘woman’s’] voice can be informed by received gendered language over the course of a lifetime. Reflecting on my own experience, I honed-in on specific phrases that have evolved in meaning for me and set them as spoken words within the context of contrasting musical lines—marked both “Entirely free” and “Driven, swing”—while exploring percussive, often breath-driven sounds that point to, among other things, pulse and heartbeat, and that contrast the recurring, sustained “shushing” gesture that evolves over the course of the piece. hush was commissioned by Carrie Koffman for premiere at the World Saxophone Congress in Zagreb, Croatia in July 2018.[19]
Koffman and Lyons’s commitment to speaking for anyone who has felt silenced is effectively done so by literally recreating the “hush,” but empowers speakers and listeners alike in seeing and hearing this performance.
In his work on performance studies, Richard Schechner synthesizes the philosophies of scholars Bharata, Horace, and Bertolt Brecht to form his model to prescribe the function of a performance: the interlocking spheres of performance.[20] The seven spheres consist of the following functions: to entertain, to create beauty, to mark or change identity, to make or foster community, to heal, to teach or persuade, and to deal with the sacred and demonic.[21] Each sphere is distinct, but they are not always mutually exclusive; one or more spheres may intersect. According to Schechner, it is uncommon for a singular performance to accomplish each function at once, though he acknowledges that “many performances emphasize more than one.”[22] Considering this model in the context of hush guided my approach to studying performances of hush, as I believe Lyons provides for all of these functions to different extents. Moreover, through the “ad libitum” and “free” notations of the composition, no two performances will be the same, whether by the same performer, or others. Generally, this liberty is part of what identifies hush as performance art, and makes each performance more enticing for its uniqueness.
The earliest publicly available recording of a performance by Koffman is in an open studio for The Phoenix Concerts in New York City on October 16, 2018.[23] Here, she begins clutching her fingers to the keys of her horn while making the onset hush gesture with a stern expression to the unseen audience. Gasping, she maintains eye contact before beginning the saxophone melody. In playing the seemingly-improvisatory lines, she comfortably moves her body, asserting a sense of ownership to the piece. Koffman maintains a sturdy, wide-legged stance which comes across as powerful and strong. She presents a delicate shift in voice when quickly transitioning from instrumental speech to spoken and percussive material. As prescribed by Lyons in the score, Koffman connects this material with saxophone gestures, appearing as an extension of each other, at times, or further contextualization. Her delivery of the text in the “Driven, swing” section is direct, both vocally and expressively. Phrases including “Make sure you ask nicely” and “Stand up straight” come across as an authoritative figure politely talking down to the receptor. As she speaks the next spoken phrase, she physically extends herself, leaning on the tips of her toes to emulate “straight, tall, slim,” before the altissimo-demanding section, where in she moves less, allowing the extended upper register to appear effortless. In the spoken phrases through this section, Koffman becomes more aggressive, allowing her voice to break in moments, up until she utters a wailing “wait” closed with a hard “t,” followed by an altissimo D sounding like that of a cry. The subsequent phrase, “Wait. Your. Turn.” is accompanied by a pointed finger to punctuate each word to the audience and perhaps reflect the text to them. Entering “Entirely free again,” the decrescendoing key clicks in unison with the hush gesture into the horn ring throughout the performance space, anticipating the impending silence. The remainder of the composition appears to echo the beginning, this time more gentle, and perhaps even freer than “entirely free.” The performance is closed by Koffman, without residual aggression instructing, “Speak up” and staring directly at the audience.
The most recent performance by Koffman is from May 2021 at The Hartt School.[24] Having lived with the piece for nearly two years, Koffman employs varied approaches and choices in this performance since the 2018 recording. This is presumably a product of time, as well as the flexibility of the composition. We now see Koffman from her front side, providing the audience’s point of view, as opposed to a right, diagonal angle. As for the music, her performance varies in her phrasing, both shortening written and improvised phrases, such as the opening ad libitum sections, as well as taking more time in sections for emphasis, especially in the “Driven, swing” section. Additionally, the venue appears to be physically intended for performance, as opposed to the “open studio” from the earlier recording. As a result, the sound is much more resonant in this space through the recording, particularly the shouting, making for a stronger impact of the text’s delivery, and not necessitating voice breaking as much to be expressive. The delivery of the spoken text, too, is much more expressive and embellished in this iteration to add to the character of the speaker. As Koffman says, “Smile [whispered]. Smile [full voice, smiling],” her voice leaps about an octave on the “full voice,” and comes across disingenuous or sarcastic. Instead of physically expressing the text, on “straight, tall, slim” she lengths each even more, and she says this as though she is painting a picture with her voice of someone with this appearance. In response, she physically characterizes “straight, tall slim” in an elongated approach of the swung section. Overall, both the saxophone and the spoken lines come across bluntly through the aggression in her voice and the voice of the saxophone. The last section, “entirely free again” is less gentle than the 2018 iteration, and much more assertive to represent the voice and the saxophone—neither will be silenced, despite the demands by the spoken text.
Another recent performance is from the University of California, Los Angeles, by Jan Berry Baker, Associate Professor of Saxophone. Baker’s performance is the only recorded performance of the piece available on YouTube besides Koffman’s, and it expands understanding and provides further insight into hush and its performance. Koffman, as the premiere performer of the piece, set an example of how to convey the work. Duly, Baker’s 2021 performance bears more resemblance to Koffman’s 2018 performance, primarily in her saxophone playing. This iteration is performed in a concert hall or performance venue, making for especially percussive palm-to chest body percussion and a resonant saxophone. Most notably, Baker introduces a different tone of the spoken text. Unlike Koffman, her attention while speaking is not always directly to the audience, reserving eye contact for particularly emotional delivery. Glancing to the audience or scanning her surroundings while delivering the text, she nearly characterizes the speaker to be passive, with the implication that the directives are reminders of what should be known by the receptor. This includes “smile [full voice, smiling]” spoken like a picture day photographer, and a direct, quiet expression of “capable, but not off-putting,” where Koffman would nearly crack her voice here. However, this approach to the spoken text is very conscious in order to intensify the last section. Here, her eye contact is directly to the audience, nearly unbroken, when she says “Listen” and “Speak up.” The contrast in her diction through the performance depicts the transit of the character of the piece.
Though each of these performances is unique, the Lyons’s intentions come to fruition in each iteration. As per Schechner, performance in and of itself is entertaining, but especially the theatricality that the text calls for, and it is depicted in varying forms. hush considerably deals with “the sacred and demonic”[25] through unapologetically diving into topics of vulnerability and marginalization typically uncharacteristic of solo instrumental works. When speaking on its performance, Koffman believes the piece to be “an integration of mind, body, and spirit,” both for the performer and their connection with the composer and listener. She relates this to a quote by violinist and conductor Yehudi Menuhin, “I can only think of music as something inherent in every human being – a birthright. Music coordinates mind, body and spirit.”[26]
Further, in doing so the composition provides a space for a ritual of telling, and retelling the story, and to counter the habitual ritual of sexism. This space fosters community for the marginalized who understand this experience, and can enjoy a performance to which they connect to. Reclaiming the objectively sexist text for a new purpose marks the identity of a woman in relation to receiving this language as resilient to marginalization. The performer taking control of the language and this treatment can be healing both to them, and the audience who shared these lived experiences. Finally, the act of performing hush beautifies feminism, and a woman putting her foot down, figuratively and literally.
These performance functions would not be achieved completely or in the same way if it were to be performed by a man, or even a man of an othered identity. Should this happen, he would not be reclaiming anything in language directed toward women, and instead be exhibiting performance as a twice-behaved behavior, or the performance of prepared actions.[27] While this would be entertaining, and perhaps demonic in its contradictory nature, the message of addressing sexist language would be lost in delivery from score to stage. Any sense of community formed by this audience would not extend beyond individuals in attendance of a performance—therefore, no longer beautiful, or pleasing to watch. Nonetheless, these are but hypotheses, and Lyons does not require a particular identity or anything more of the performer that is not notated. In our interview, she said she would “rather err on the side of travesty than close off opportunity,” believing that “what shouldn’t be done isn’t explored” and this would “maybe allow [us] to hear something we wouldn’t hear otherwise.”[28] Lyons does not believe she should dictate performances of her compositions once they are published, beyond the belief to “trust people to bring their best selves…if there is an honest connection and a need [to perform the piece].”[29]
hush offers a richness in depth through both the composition and its performance, yet one is not without the other. In performance, saxophone serves the role of the silenced voice, playing in response to and disobeying the “shushing gestures” and spoken text. The specific instrumentation marks the Koffman’s importance to the work and emphasizes the disempowerment in the community of the instrument on the basis of identity. As for the performer, their identity and delivery of the spoken text and their portrayal of the instrumental lines intersect to characterize the composition and address its content without the need to name this explicitly. Unless a performer were to deviate from the score entirely, the message remains clear from the conversation of the instrumental and spoken phrases and the language included. The adaptability for different choices is part of the core of this composition as performance art. A performer cannot simply approach this as an instrumental solo; rather, they must mine the depth of the emotion necessary to understand, prepare, and perform hush, which can be extremely vulnerable. With the score, Lyons guides the performer through this vulnerability and how to convey these lived experiences. For the spoken word in particular, the characterization is carried out and made seamless with the saxophone through Lyons’s direction, just as a script helps an actor to find their character. hush and its commission, though, is not unrelated to the past works of Lyons and her mission of inviting performers and audiences to face their vulnerability. This composition continues the message of what you want (substance free) and speaks where there were not previously words.
Additionally, the aforementioned piece inspired Koffman to reach out to Lyons, who is a composer and storyteller regarding the disempowerment of women. Putting hush out into the world extends to more storytellers, and re-tellers; to anyone who understands and relates to the message of the composition, which may not inherently be women, but a community of the marginalized empowered after being silenced for their identities. While the language used in the spoken text is still acknowledged to be gendered, the perception of being silenced or dismissed due to an individual’s identity reaches beyond women, and the amendment to the program note welcomes performers of other backgrounds to do so, expanding the future of this piece for people of color, the LGBTQ+ community, and any possible intersections. Over the past two years, I have found the piece to reach more audiences by more performers, in addition to Baker, including Dr. Nicki Roman, Assistant Professor of Saxophone at the University of Wisconsin-Miluakee, and Emma Mooradian, a graduate student studying under Baker.[30]:[31] The spread of the composition works to continue the functions of the spheres of performance, and perhaps inspire others to reach into vulnerability through music composition, too.
End Notes
[1] Gilda Lyons, interview by Kaitlyn Canneto, Zoom, October 15, 2021.
[2] Lyons, interview.
[3] Ibid.
[4] “musique concrète,” in The Oxford Dictionary of Music, edited by Joyce Kennedy, Michael Kennedy, and Tim Rutherford-Johnson, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780199578108.001.0001/acref-9780199578108-e-6328.
[5] Gilda Lyons, what you want (substance free), accessed November 11, 2021, http://www.gildalyons.com/music/what-you-want-substance-free.
[6] Ibid.
[7] “Composer Curator with Eleonor Sandresky,” interview by Eleonor Sandresky, Youtube, Composers Now, September 22, 2020, Video, 58:57. https://www.composersnow.org/cn/Chronicles/Composer_Curator/.
[8] “Composer Curator with Eleonor Sandresky,” interview.
[9] Carrie Koffman, interview by Kaitlyn Canneto, Phone, November 29, 2021.
[10] Lyons, interview.
[11] Richard Schechner, “Performance Processes,” Performance Studies: An Introduction, 3rd ed. (New York: Routledge, 2013), 227.
[12] Lyons, interview.
[13] Ibid.
[14] Lyons, interview.
[15] “Composer Curator with Eleonor Sandresky,” interview.
[16] Ibid.
[17] Judith Butler, “Bodily Inscriptions, Performative Subversions,” in Routledge International Handbook of Heterosexualities Studies, ed. Nancy L. Fischer and James Joseph Dean (New York: Routledge, 2020), 48-57.
[18] “Composer Curator with Eleonor Sandresky,” interview.
[19] Gilda Lyons, “hush,” Accessed April 4, 2021, http://www.gildalyons.com/music/hush.
[20] Richard Schechner, “What is Performance,” Performance Studies: An Introduction, 3rd ed. (New York: Routledge, 2013), 46.
[21] Schechner, “What is Performance,” 46.
[22] Ibid., 46.
[23] Gilda Lyons, “hush / Gilda Lyons / Carrie Koffman, saxophone,” YouTube Video, April 22, 2019, https://youtu.be/9tsE3erIedY.
[24] Carrie Koffman, “hush by Gilda Lyons,” YouTube Video, May 24, 2021, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtmpWCHlhiI&t=106s.
[25] Schechner, “What is Performance,” 46.
[26] Koffman, Interview.
[27] Schechner, “What is Performance,” 28.
[28] Gilda Lyons, interview.
[29] Gilda Lyons, interview.
[30] Nicki Roman, “It’s been extremely gratifying learning Gilda Lyons’ “hush”, written for Carrie Koffman,” Facebook, November 12, 2021, https://www.facebook.com/100000003066177/videos/2985589471754562/.
[31] Emma Mooradian, “About,” accessed, November 22, 2021, https://emmamooradian.com/about/.