Like the Ground Zero chamber-music impromptus by Juilliard students during the September 11 rescue operations, composer Ted Hearne’s Katrina Ballads is an act of artistic empathy. Whereas the former sought simply to offer solace, Hearne’s song cycle serves as an exquisitely written, if caustic, reminder of the inert and fatuous responses by government officials in the wake of the hurricane.
Like the Ground Zero chamber-music impromptus by Juilliard students during the September 11 rescue operations, composer Ted Hearne’s Katrina Ballads is an act of artistic empathy. Whereas the former sought simply to offer solace, Hearne’s song cycle serves as an exquisitely written, if caustic, reminder of the inert and fatuous responses by government officials in the wake of the hurricane.
Fans of Antony and the Johnsons may hear parallels to the singer’s high-frequency vibrato in mezzo-soprano Abby Fischer’s arresting “Prologue,” but with its cabaret-style vocals and politically charged libretto, Katrina Ballads resembles more of a Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht collaboration.
For the text, the Chicago-born composer keenly includes only direct quotes taken from national media interviews, a decision that allows then Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert, First Lady Laura Bush and the President to indict themselves far more damningly than any commentary might. “Anderson Cooper and Mary Landrieu: 9.1.05” weaves a duet between the CNN interviewer’s restrained vexation and the Louisiana senator’s incomprehensible responses, underpinned by anxious eighth-notes on viola and cello. The interchange ends in an inextricable knot of piano, strings, electronics and flute every bit as baffling as the words.
Hearne’s greatest success lies in his interweaving of New Orleans brass, blues and gospel with phrases such as “FEMA” and “supplemental bill” in a manner utterly convincing and musically compelling. Amid an abundance of expertly composed numbers, a turntablist-like breakdown of George Bush’s infamous line “Brownie, you’re doin’ a heck of a job” stands out as a miniature masterpiece.
- Doyle Armbrust
published in Time Out Chicago on November 3rd, 2010