Part cartoon character, part virtuoso, composer WANG JIE has spent the last two decades nudging classical music and its concert audiences into spectacular frontiers. One day she spins a few notes into a large symphony, the next she conjures a malevolent singing rat onto the opera stage. For the past three years running, Jie’s Symphony No. 1 has been the most-broadcast work on the most-listened-to classical music show in the country. During previous seasons, you might have heard about her pioneering opera “It Rained on Shakopee,” based on her mentoring experience at the Minnesota state prison. Unveiling beauty in this world, and paving new paths for greater public engagement with classical music are at the heart of her artistry.
Many consider Ms. Wang’s stylistic versatility a rare trait among today’s composers, but she comes by it naturally. There is a mile-long dossier on Jie’s outside-the-box incidents. It begins with a thrilling escape from a Chinese-military-run kindergarten at the age of four. Apparently it was a rehearsal. Jie will tell you that fighting for her beliefs has gotten her into trouble after trouble. But music critic Jay Nordlinger puts it this way: “Wang Jie is a clear communicator, whose love of music is obvious.”
Today, that same refusal of constraint sparks the glorious madness of Jie’s music; the skill, theatricality and method that once facilitated her youthful escape are now the engines for her appetite to “Engage • Explore • Play”. Jie credits her mentors at the Curtis Institute of Music and the Manhattan School of Music for giving her the tools to materialize her artistic vision. Her career is made possible by trailblazing folks at New York City Opera, Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra, American Composers Orchestra, Detroit Symphony, and Colorado Springs Philharmonic, etc. And she is continuously fueled by organizations that nodded at her endeavors, such as American Academy of Arts and Letters, the Koussevitzky Foundation in the Library of Congress, the McKnight Foundation, the V. Toulmin Foundation, to name a few. These lists are extensive, proof that the whole village must show up to bear witness as an artist struggles daily for her integrity. This daily practice, as James Baldwin says, must be considered as a metaphor for the universal struggle of all human beings to get to become human beings.
Since the pandemic, Jie is busy finishing her new symphony for the Colorado Music Festival, starting another for the Buffalo Philharmonic, and creating new works for the Apollo Chamber Players, Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and half a dozen others. Off the composing clock, Jie is a mentor at the Curtis Institute, the City University of NY, and an unexpected student of Bharatanatyam, a classical dance form in South India. Along with her husband Fred Child, Jie enjoys endless rock climbing trips and occasional mountaineering feats.
Many consider Wang Jie’s stylistic versatility a rare trait among today’s composers. One day she spins a few notes into a large symphony, the next she conjures a malevolent singing rat onto the opera stage. Unveiling beauty in this world, and paving new paths for lasting public engagement with classical music are at the heart of her artistry.
- The New Criterion (Dec. 2010)
“An evening of the American Composers Orchestra did what such evenings do: present music for orchestra by American composers. The concert took place in Zankel Hall, which is in Carnegie’s basement, so to speak, and it offered three relatively recent pieces and two brand-new ones. One of the brand-new ones is not quite for orchestra. It’s called From the Other Sky, by a Chinese-American composer named Wang Jie, born in 1980. How to describe her piece? Here is how she describes it: “a multimedia concert opera / song cycle,” in “three scenes/movements.” There is a story, and it concerns the animals of the Chinese zodiac, and a missing, musical thirteenth one. The main message of the story, I believe, is that music is a balm to man.
The work is by turns whimsical, campy, tragic, haunting. At times it seems a novelty, almost a “private” piece, meant for friends at a party, not for the public. Shostakovich used to write this kind of piece. In fact, I was thinking that he would appreciate From the Other Sky, as I sat in Zankel Hall. But then, a seriousness of purpose is conveyed. The work has an element of agitprop. For example, characters hold up signs, one of which reads “Bailout Plan.” From the Other Sky strikes me as an exceptionally personal piece, something with a deep meaning to the composer—a meaning beyond what the audience can grasp, at least on a first hearing and viewing. The music is not memorable, I would say, but it fits each thought and scene. Incidentally, the composer herself participated in this premiere performance: She played three different keyboards and underwent several costume changes.
In the middle of the concert, an official with the American Composers Orchestra took the stage, to give a little speech. He thanked and flattered the audience. “All credit to you for coming,” he said, and, “Blessings on you for seeking out the unfamiliar.” Attendance was a virtue, you see: not merely a choice, but a virtue. The official congratulated the audience as an adult might congratulate a child on liking vegetables. Also, we learned that the orchestra has a program called “Playing It UNsafe,” which involves “five cutting-edge composers.” The conceits of the new-music crowd seem to know no bounds. May I suggest a way of playing it unsafe? Stop kissing the backsides of the new-music audience, and the “cutting-edge” composers, and let music rise or fall on its own merits. One well-composed waltz or galop is worth more than yet another uninspired exercise in the “cutting edge.”
For her piece, Wang Jie wrote one of the most charming program notes I have ever read. She spoke of “insistent muses who command me to write down their music.” She continued, “. . . if you find yourself elated by tonight’s performance, the credit goes to them. If you hate it, well, it’s only 15 minutes long.” Before her piece was performed, a video was shown, in which she was interviewed. And, during this interview, one of the most remarkable and moving things I have ever experienced in a concert hall—or in any public forum—took place.
Wang said that her father was a musician who survived the Cultural Revolution. At least, I believe I heard her correctly. At eleven, she herself was sent to a music school, far from their home in China—again, if I heard correctly. She was the youngest girl in the dormitory, and she was alone and miserable. “Nobody liked me,” she said. She had as her companions two cassettes, which she listened to over and over. They contained three pieces of music: Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, Tchaikovsky’s “Pathétique” Symphony, and Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade. When she named these pieces, the audience—the much-flattered new-music audience—laughed. Or at least chortled. It was a chortling that said, “What sugary, silly, hackneyed pieces, poor girl.” Then, on the video, Wang said, “It kept me alive.” Listening to this music was what “kept me alive.” The hall shut up, right quick.
And I will add a footnote: Several years ago, I did a public interview of Valery Gergiev, and I asked him what first hooked him on music. He said it was a recording of Scheherazade. Why wouldn’t it?”
- The New York Concert Review Inc. (May 22nd, 2011)
“… Continuum concluded its first half with “A Longing for Spring, A Multi-language Song Cycle” (2011) by Shanghai-born Wang Jie (b. 1980). Set to a Tang Dynasty poem by Tu Fu (712-770 AD) the work’s evocations of nature, war, torment, and tears were enhanced by super-titles and calligraphy projected onto a screen. There were so many ways to appreciate this composition, through sight, sound, and meaning, that interest never lapsed. One could not possibly grasp it all in a single hearing, but Ms. Wang’s multi-faceted work will undoubtedly earn future performances. She is certainly an artist to watch.”
– Rorianne Schrade
- The New York Times (October 18, 2010)
“The evening’s most vibrant, polished playing came in “From the Other Sky,” a 15-minute chamber opera by Wang Jie, a young Chinese composer based in New York and a winner of the orchestra’s Underwood Commission. The work, an invented fable about how the Lark was ejected from the Chinese zodiac, set to clear, lucid and evocative music, was sung in English and staged with whimsical headdresses, choreography and PowerPoint animations.
Portraying the Lark, the soprano Emily Hindrichs dispatched exuberant, high-flown lines with a winning ease. Krysty Swann, a mezzo-soprano, was an imperious Rat and a doleful peddler. Hugh Sinclair, the director, gave the Rooster’s proclamations an officious tone. Ms. Wang, cavorting in costume, played keyboards with the ensemble and prefaced the cheerful epilogue with a giddy cadenza on digitally sampled harpsichord. .”
– Steve Smith
- The Pioneer Press (Oct. 19th 2010)
“Will any of the works be “future classics,” as the Minnesota Orchestra has annually dubbed this concert? Well, each of the composers showed a lot of promise, but the women among the seven — Wang Jie and Polina Nazaykinskaya — seemed the most self-assured about the sound world they wished to create. Wang Jie‘s First Symphony traveled a fascinating arc over its 14 minutes, with a simple interval of two notes providing the foundation for a work that grows from innocent inquiry to roiling tension to a deep sense of loss.”
– Rob Hubbard
- The SunBreak (June 26, 2014)
“…Wang Jie’s A Silence Older Than Love: A Song Cycle of Intimate Desire, took the erotic implications, setting poems by Emily Dickinson and June Sylvester Saraceno in music which was by turns tender, full of longing, climactic, languorous, fierce or fluttery. Soft slides up and down the strings sometimes using only harmonics tied the different aspects together while the voice soared over. At fleeting moments one could perhaps hear hints of Puccini or Ravel. A strong piece which grabbed the attention…”
- Classicalsource.com (Oct. 16th 2010)
“Wang Jie’s From the Other Sky is far more fun than one is supposed to have at a concert of ‘serious’ music. This charming multimedia-comic-opera-meets-song-cycle in four scenes was presented in a semi-staged version with computer-controlled background projections. The completely original story by the composer is based on characters from the Chinese zodiac – but not all of them on this occasion because, as we learn in the first scene, some of them are out for pedicures or Pilates – and how the thirteenth Zodiac goddess, a lark, loses her place in the heavenly firmament and finds favor on earth. Emily Hendricks has a light voice, but with plenty of power where it counts, and was completely winning in the role of the bird. Krysty Swann was properly imperious as the celestial Rat, and used her warm mezzo to strong effect in the second scene as a cripple in a plague-infested world. Wang Jie (who was also costumed and a part of the dramatic action) is a solid pianist – and quite the character. The music, written in a completely approachable style, perfectly suits the story’s fairytale-with-a-modern-twist mood. I can’t wait to hear more of Wang Jie’s music”
– Gene Guadette
- The Detroit Free Press (March 29th, 2014)
The Chinese-born Jie’s Symphony No. 2 carries the subtitle “To and from Dakini” — Dakini being a Tibetan Buddhist female spirit of sorts. Another single-movement work lasting about 15 minutes, the piece opens quietly and furtively, rising and falling strings coalescing into stop-and-go phrases that spread through the ensemble and gradually coalesce into bigger ideas. A perfumed solo violin — the Dakini? — emerges from an impressionist atmosphere.
Faster rhythmic stutters later recall Stravinsky, and there’s something of Ravel’s coloration and Gyorgy Ligeti’s tactile textures in the score. Abstract passages marry to more concrete melodies and lush harmony, and at one point, the orchestra almost sounds as if it’s laughing. I like the patience with which Jie develops her materials, and she was aided by Slatkin, who shaped the music to keep a sense of forward motion in the foreground. Concertmaster Yoonshin Song also deserves a nod for her exquisite solos.
– – Mark Stryker
- The New York Times (July 10, 2007)
“Wang Jie, a 27-year-old composer from China who now lives in the United States, contributed the curtain raiser for the opening concert on Sunday evening. Her “Shadow” (2006) describes a 6-year-old boy at play, using pointillistic bursts of piano and string timbres to evoke his cavorting around a playground, with an occasional introspective respite. Ms. Wang provided a detailed scenario in her program notes, and the music follows the cues closely. It would be a perfect soundtrack for an animated short feature.”
– Allan Kozinn
- The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (July 09, 2007)
“Despite a corny title, “Joy of Sextet” by Wang Jie also was compelling. Emphasized by new percussionist David Skidmore, delicate chords unfurled with florid decoration, inexplicably lending the work elements of both stasis and movement. The group functioned almost like an enhanced accordion, surging and pulling back again and again. Perhaps the title is not so corny, after all.”
– Andrew Druckenbrod
- The Pittsburgh Tribune (July 10, 2007)
“Scrupulously crafted composition that embraces both Chinese and Western modern classical expression.”
– Mark Kanny
- The Duowei Times (www.chinesenewsnet.com Front Page of April 20th 2007)
Front Page Article: Opera NANNAN, re-examines the value of Chinese Women
– Hubert Lu