{"id":7831,"date":"2010-07-10T09:40:24","date_gmt":"2010-07-10T13:40:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=7831"},"modified":"2018-10-20T15:44:19","modified_gmt":"2018-10-20T19:44:19","slug":"whats-in-a-song-simple-gifts-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2010\/07\/whats-in-a-song-simple-gifts-2\/","title":{"rendered":"What’s in a Song: Simple Gifts<\/em> (2)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

[Above: portion of letter from Aaron Copland to Harold Spivacke, Chief of the Music Division at the Library of Congress. Original<\/a> in the Library of Congress’s Aaron Copland Collection.]<\/em><\/p>\n

[“Appalachian Spring (7th Movement)” (about 13:30 long)]<\/em>
\n\n

[…or, if you’d prefer, the whole thing (about 35:57)]<\/em><\/p>\n\n

Note: <\/strong>If you’re interested in the early history of “Simple Gifts,” rather than its resurrection in the 20th century, you might want to begin with Part 1<\/a> of this two-part series, posted a few days earlier.<\/p>\nI<\/span>n late 1942, choreographer\/dancer Martha Graham first approached composer Aaron Copland. She hoped he could score a new ballet for her troupe. She had a grant from the Library of Congress’s Coolidge foundation to fund the work, but at that point she didn’t know the details of the project — certainly not the title. She hoped to premiere it in the auditorium of the Library in Washington, DC, within a year.<\/p>\n

As you can see from the portion of the letter reproduced at the top of this post, as of the following spring Copland had heard no more from her about the new ballet and moved on to other projects. But by June, 1943, he’d received Graham’s first notes; by July, he’d managed to compose the first third of the ballet. The premiere date was now set for October 30, at the Library of Congress as Graham had hoped. (One constraint: the orchestra would be limited to 13 musicians, because of the small size of the orchestra pit there.)<\/p>\n

What Copland knew about the ballet at this point was the general story it would tell. It would be about a young farming couple in the hills of Pennsylvania, early in the 19th century. Graham hoped it might capture of the same spirit as Thornton Wilder’s play Our Town<\/em> (1938). Of course, with the US and the world in the grip of war — and because the life of a pioneer farming couple would not have been easy — it could not be too sweet and sentimental. Importantly, it still had no title. (Copland settled on Ballet for Martha<\/em> as his working title.)<\/p>\n

But it did have a main theme, one which Copland had found almost by accident.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\"\"M<\/span>usically omnivorous, Copland read as much as he could, about as many different kinds of music as he could.When Graham’s initial notes for the project mentioned a “Shaker rocking chair,” apparently a question mark went up in Copland’s head. (On the other hand, as he later conceded, “my research evidently was not very thorough, since I did not realize that there have never been Shaker settlements in rural Pennsylvania.\u201d Ha!)<\/p>\n

Copland’s research led him to a book (originally published in 1940) by historian Edward Deming Andrews, who specialized in the history of the Shaker religious sect. The book, The Gift to be Simple<\/em><\/a>, provided music and lyrics of hundreds of Shaker songs, melodies, and dances; it took its very title from the first line of one song.<\/p>\n

Andrews didn’t get the details of “Simple Gifts”‘s composition entirely correct, as later historians discovered. (I covered some of those details in Part 1<\/a> of this two-part series.) But his capsule summary of the song’s tempo — “a rather lively piece” — captured precisely the spirit in which it had been first composed and later performed by the Shakers.<\/p>\n

Copland had a whole serious ballet to score, not just a few steps. He thus couldn’t make the whole thing “rather lively.” But he could honor “Simple Gifts” by playing with its central musical theme throughout the arrangement — and by devoting one entire section to variations on the song itself.<\/p>\n

\"\"Not until the ballet was set to premiere did Graham come up with a title. It would come from one of the poems-within-an-epic-poem about the history of America, The Bridge<\/em>, by Hart Crane (published in 1930). The specific poem she’d alighted on, not surprisingly, was called “The Dance<\/a>,” and the stanza inspiring Graham’s title begins like this:<\/p>\n

O Appalachian Spring! I gained the ledge;
\nSteep, inaccessible smile that eastward bends
\nAnd northward reaches in that violet wedge
\nOf Adirondacks!…<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Interestingly, the spring to which Crane referred was not a season, but a little rivulet of water. This would cause Copland much amusement for the rest of his life: strangers kept telling him how perfectly his score captured that time of the year, in those mountains — even though he himself had had no idea it was “about” the Appalachians the whole time he worked on it, and even though the title had nothing to do with the months from March to June!)<\/p>\n

Copland would receive the Pulitzer Prize for music in 1944 for Appalachian Spring<\/em>, and he would soon recast it in shorter, suite form for full orchestra. He’d treat “Simple Gifts” itself in a separate work, as well, including voices. (I’ve included the suite version at the top of this post; section seven of eight total is devoted to five variations on “Simple Gifts,” and I’ve also extracted just that section above.)<\/p>\nW<\/span>hatever else Copland did with Appalachian Spring<\/em>, he rescued “Simple Gifts” from obscurity. (Only specialists like Edward Deming Andrews — and the handful of surviving Shakers — even knew of the song at that point.)<\/p>\n

And, for good or ill, he also changed its interpretation ever after: while some would recall the song’s “rather lively” origins, a generation of folk singers would depend on Copland’s overall interpretation: “Simple Gifts” must be sung reverently, almost somberly, even mournfully — as if it were a dirge for the passing of time out of simplicity into complication.<\/p>\n

The first folksingers to latch onto “Simple Gifts,” probably, were a duo, George and Gerry Armstrong. Here’s their version, from their 1961 album of the same name:<\/p>\n\n

Not as eyes-cast-heavenward as some would perform it, by a long shot — but also still (for my taste) a bit plainer<\/em> than the song as performed by real (however elderly) Shakers.<\/p>\n

\"\"Judy Collins recorded what is often regarded as a classic version of “Simple Gifts” for her 1970 album Whales & Nightingales<\/em>. She herself (according to Amazing Grace: The Story of America’s Most Beloved Song<\/em>, by Steve Turner and Collins) craved simplicity at the time and therefore recorded the album in a variety of plain, uncluttered rooms, with minimal instrumentation; the “Simple Gifts” session took place in a Greenwich Village loft, introduced with a flute solo:<\/p>\n\n

By 1973, the song had sufficiently penetrated popular culture that the producers of the Kung Fu<\/em> television series could, without much of a stretch or trouble, incorporate it into an episode. The singer: ten-year-old Jodie Foster.<\/p>\n