Composer Shawn Okpebholo is clear about what gets his creative juices flowing.
“There are composers who write music for music’s sake,” he noted in an interview with SF Classical Voice. “I admire them. Sometimes I’m jealous of them.
“I can’t do that. All of my pieces are about something. They’re a response to something, or they reflect something.”
Two new Okpebholo compositions will be performed in the Bay Area over the next month — one a world premiere, the other a second performance — and both were inspired by important social issues.
Fractured Water, which the San Francisco Chamber Orchestra will perform Oct. 18–20, abstractly addresses issues of environmental degradation and the vital role of rivers. Two Black Churches, which the Oakland Symphony will perform Nov. 8, is a reflection of two atrocities perpetrated by white supremacists in the American South five decades apart. Both are orchestrations of smaller-scale pieces that have already been performed to considerable acclaim.
“I didn’t set out to write pieces like this,” said Okpebholo, 43, whose 2022 album Lord, How Come Me Here? received a Grammy Award nomination. “My personality is upbeat — I’m an extrovert. But these are issues that people need to be aware of. I’m doing my small part, through my art, to bring awareness.”
A Kentucky native who makes his home in the Chicago area, Okpebholo traces his ancestry to Nigeria and his musical education to the Salvation Army. He talked about his approach to composition and his varied influences in a telephone conversation from his office at Illinois’s Wheaton College, where he is a professor of music. Our discussion has been lightly edited.
Let’s start by talking about Fractured Water, a fascinating piece in which — in its original version — the three performers, on cello, piano, and flute, also play percussion at various intervals, striking water bowls.
In the orchestral version, the percussionist plays the water percussion. The original was commissioned by Fifth House Ensemble, a fantastic new-music ensemble [since disbanded] in the Chicago area. It’s also been performed brilliantly by Eighth Blackbird.
In it, I attempt to bring awareness to pressing concerns about water pollution, conservation, and preservation, with a particular focus on the Chicago River. Chicago is a town full of energy and life around the river. In the piece, I try to create a high-octane, hustle-and-bustle soundscape, which eventually melts to a more serene, reflective state.
There’s a point where everyone is playing this complicated lick, and all of a sudden it goes backward. That signifies the flow of the river being reversed [as it was in the early 20th century]. I also quote the spiritual “Down in the River to Pray,” which really captured what I wanted to say with the piece.
The song cycle Two Black Churches is also inspired by a pressing issue: racism and violence.
That’s a very special piece. It was commissioned by [baritone] Will Liverman, who premiered it [and is singing it with the Oakland Symphony, which co-commissioned the orchestral version]. He commissioned [the original, for baritone and piano] in response to the shooting of a Black man, Philando Castile, in Minnesota in 2016.
There are two movements: “Ballad of Birmingham,” which is based on the 1963 bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church that killed four young girls, and “The Rain,” which is about another atrocity in a Black church that happened nearly 60 years later — Mother Emanuel in Charleston, where nine people were shot to death in 2015.
The first movement is based on a poem by Dudley Randall in which a girl pleads with her mother to attend a protest march. Her mother tells her it’s too dangerous and instructs her to go to church instead. She gets killed in this place of refuge.
The second movement is based on a poem written specifically for this piece by Marcus Amaker. Charleston is a coastal city that floods a lot; the piece uses that as a metaphor for the way oppression is drowning us. It’s based on nine chords, each of which represents one of the nine victims of the shooting.
I always wanted to orchestrate both of these pieces, so when I was commissioned to write orchestral pieces, I asked [the organizations] if I could orchestrate these two.
What’s the process of orchestrating a chamber work like?
It’s like writing a new piece. I pour my all into it. I’m grateful to get the opportunity to hear them in a new way.
Let’s talk about your background. Your ancestry is Nigerian, correct?
Yes. My dad is Nigerian, and he lives there now. I was born and raised in Lexington, Kentucky, by a single mom who worked really hard.
The Lexington Philharmonic was the first orchestra I saw, in third grade. I was a kid from the projects going on a field trip. I was mesmerized by the orchestra. Many years later, it gave the premiere of the orchestral version of Two Black Churches, which was very special.
I grew up in the Salvation Army church, which has a strong music program. My music education began with free music lessons from the Salvation Army starting at age 7.
Did you take to music right away?
Yes. I was good at it, and I loved it.
As I reflect on my story now that I’m older, I find it amazing that this opportunity was handed to me and that there were people around to help me cultivate it. That informs my interest in social justice. I wasn’t any smarter or any more talented than other people in the projects. I just had more opportunities and people who would help me. If we give people the resources and tools and confidence they need, imagine what could come out of these neighborhoods.
What was your first instrument?
I started with the baritone horn. My sisters played cornet and alto horn. We all sang in the children’s choir. Around age 14, I started composition lessons with James Curnow, an internationally known composer who happened to belong to our church.
When did you start to compose?
I remember writing an arrangement of a little hymn for baritone horn — the technical term is euphonium — and piano, which I played at church. Afterward, Jim told me, “You sound good on the euphonium. How about I give you lessons?” After a couple of months, I told him, “I really appreciate you teaching me this instrument, but can you teach me composition instead?” He said, “I’d much rather do that!” In many ways, he was a father figure. He’s in his 80s now, and I still send him my music.
I went to the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music for my master’s and doctoral degrees. I then went straight into academia — teaching composition and theory. I’m a full professor with an endowed chair, which allows me more time to write.
Who are your most important influences?
The one composer people will regularly say my music reminds them of is Charles Ives. He was a brilliant composer. He often quoted folk tunes and mixed different styles of music. I do a lot of that, so I can see why people associate me with him.
I can name many composers I am influenced by, but I’m more influenced by other art forms, such as painting and sculpture. I also love poetry and plays. Other art forms get me more excited about my own art form.
Well, a play is about telling a story, and you are telling stories in your works.
Yes! I love that I can tell a story in my own way. I love engaging poetry with music.
What do you love about composing, and what do you find challenging about it?
The challenging part is being creative on demand. That’s hard. I can’t just write something [casually]. I put my all into it. After I wrote a series of pieces about Black pain, I needed something more lighthearted, so I wrote a comic opera.
What I love is collaboration. I love working with singers, conductors, chamber musicians. Working with people to bring your art to life never gets old. I live for that.
What are you working on at the moment?
A couple of pieces. I’m working on a cello concerto commissioned by the American Composers Orchestra, Northwestern University, and the Sphinx Organization. I’m also working on a large choral work commissioned by the Santa Fe Desert Chorale.
You mentioned that you are basically an upbeat, hopeful person. Is that spirit surviving the current election campaign with all its ugly rhetoric?
I post a lot about the election on Facebook. I can’t not talk about it. All the rhetoric about immigrants, all the lies — people’s lives are affected by that stuff. But I remain hopeful.
