Ecclesiastes, or the Hebrew name I prefer, “Kohelet,” used to delight me.  I found when I mentioned this reaction to others, it often elicited a skeptical response:  No, that is a book of depression, the mournful elegy of Solomon’s old age, futility and even despair.  Why should the same text elicit such optimism and liberation to some, including me, and pessimism and darkness to others?  Jewish communities read the text each year at Sukkot, the Autumn harvest festival.  Is it the joy of the harvest or the dire onset of Winter that we bring to mind?  Of course it is both.  Moreover, bleak winter is a crucial moment in the cycle of fertility.

Liu Fang’s mastery of the pipa and the guzheng has established her international reputation as one of the great young interpreters of traditional Chinese music. She aspires to combine her knowledge and practice of Eastern traditions and Western classical music, contemporary music and improvisation, thereby creating new forms, uniting different cultures and discovering new audiences.

Keenly aware that Germany had no colonial presence in Asia, Heinrich Heine observed in 1821 that, while Portuguese, English and Dutch commercial ships might transport the material riches of India to the West, Germany would not fail to mine its spiritual treasures.

“What a beautiful big sound!” How often do we hear this comment during intermission or from musicians discussing a colleague they admire? This commonly voiced and seemingly flattering exclamation is problematic to me and stands as a disturbing commentary on the state of music making today.

In the latter 19th and early 20th centuries, European composers regularly inflected their music with tunes rooted in Gypsy culture, whether heartfelt laments or exuberant dance tunes. The result was a warmly embraced hybrid that bridged cultures by enrichment rather than condescension. The sources of these Gypsy melodies varied from authentic to ersatz, with many folk-like pieces “improved on” by their incorporation into more urbane works.