The Inside Story: Margi Griebling-Haigh and VOICES FROM THE OTHER SIDE

VOICES FROM THE OTHER SIDE is a collection of evocative chamber works performed by cello octet — several with soprano soloist Gabrielle Haigh. Included are Arvo Pärt’s tintinnabuli-style Fratres as well as his L’abbé Agathon, inspired by the remains of a 12th-century leper hospital near Beauvais, France; as well as the beloved Bachianas Brasileiras No. 5 by Heitor Villa-Lobos, and two works by American composer Margi Griebling-Haigh.

Today, Margi is our featured artist in the “Inside Story,” a blog series exploring the inner workings and personalities of our composers and performers. Read on to learn about her early musical experiences as a child in the United Kingdom, and the three greatest lessons she’s learned in her life-long artistic pursuits… 

What emotions do you hope listeners will experience after hearing your work? 

It’s quite important for me as a composer to reach my audience with a kind of emotional urgency. In my vocal works, I strive to communicate lyrics — which I consider to be of equal importance to the music — and to faithfully support them with complementary harmonies and rhythms. In the case of my song cycle Voices from the Other Side, I hope that listeners will be a bit frightened when they hear “Some things are dark,” and then charmed and amused by the visual imagery and whimsy of “The Curse.” I’m not given to weeping, but I cried a tear or two while I composed “Prayer to Persephone…” and I hope its tenderness and heartbreak will touch listeners as well.

In my more abstract works such as Cantilena, I try to create colorful, memorable music that will hold some sort of immediate fascination and appeal. One of my goals is instant recognition; I would love listeners to have a sort of “where have I heard this piece before” moment if they hear any of my works for a second (at least) time. 

What were your first musical experiences? 

When I was 2 years old my dad was transferred by Firestone Tire & Rubber Co. from Akron OH to Wimbledon, United Kingdom. My dauntless parents occasionally took my older sister Karen and me to concerts in London, and at one of them, when the young sensation Vladimir Ashkenazy announced from the stage that he would play an encore, 4-year-old me stood up and loudly announced (to the horror of the old gentleman seated next to our family) “but I don’t want to hear any more music!” My attitude gradually improved, thank goodness. 

My mother’s career was as a private music theory teacher. Karen — who demonstrated great musical talent and very serious academic leanings even as a little girl — was one of her early guinea pigs. Never wanting to be left out, I often barged into lessons, and so received heavy doses of theory, ear training, and sight singing beginning when I was barely past toddlerhood. Our dad was a gifted amateur pianist and composer, and, surrounded by such examples, we two girls were taught how to write down any melodies that popped into our heads as a part of our training. 

We returned to Akron in 1967. Karen and I were immediately introduced to the Akron Scholastic Composers Contest — unique in the United States and organized by the Children’s Concert Society. The opportunities to earn prizes and judges’ comments provided us with annual incentives and a friendly sibling rivalry that inspired ever more ambitious composition projects throughout our school years. 

What have been your biggest inspirations on your musical journey? 

One year after our family returned to Akron from England, Blossom Music Center’s 1968 grand opening — and the opportunity to audition for the children’s chorus — was announced. Karen and I found ourselves on stage with the Cleveland Orchestra singing in Orff’s Carmina Burana and Boito’s Mephistopheles. Being suddenly immersed in the magnificence of this orchestra was completely awe-inspiring. I heard the glorious sound of the English horn, fell in love with it, and vowed to learn to play oboe and English horn. I was eventually privileged to study with orchestra members mild-mannered English hornist Harvey McGuire and then oboist John Mack, whose sometimes humorous and more often scary demands challenged and taunted me.

Summer performances by the Cleveland Orchestra were certainly my greatest inspiration as a performer and composer. Hearing an actual whip-poor-will answer the nightingale recording in Respighi’s Pines of Rome, listening to clarinetist Frank Cohen’s magical pianissimos and oboist John Mack’s heart-wrenching solos in Shostakovich symphonies, and singing in the chorus — in works such as Prokofiev’s Alexander Nevsky, Mahler’s Symphony No. 8, and Puccini’s Tosca — was unforgettable. I soaked up musical colors and languages at innumerable concerts during the decades when Blossom was a true classical music festival of excellence and diverse repertoire. There I also met my husband, double bassist Scott Haigh (audience to stage eye contact!), and in 1989 became a member of the “orchestra family.” 

What musical mentor had the greatest impact on your artistic journey? Is there any wisdom they’ve imparted that still resonates today? 

Among my many teachers and colleagues, three people’s words and actions resonate a great deal. My high school piano teacher, Margaret Baxtresser, was a successful and beloved concert pianist who happened to live in Akron OH. The time she took to select repertoire especially suited to my tastes, temperament, and musical needs was extraordinary. She sometimes invited me on her personal errands so that we could get to know each other well. She organized frequent piano parties for her private studio, and invited us to anonymously write only POSITIVE notes about each others’ performances, which were then distributed at the end of the evening. In the competitive and sometimes rivalrous musical world, these comments provided feelings of camaraderie and safety.

Oboist John Mack’s loud New Jersey accent and his musical directions — especially in regards to phrasing and dynamics, are permanently lodged in my brain. He insisted upon a deep knowledge of the harmony that underscored any melody or phrase, and was a huge fan of transposing at sight. None of my other performance teachers ever attacked with such a series of music theory pop quizzes during lessons! Mack demanded 100% dedication to the oboe, and this I was not prepared to give, as I attached equal importance to composing. Later it became very clear that he respected me for this and offered one of my most meaningful commissions (Bocadillos Floridianos) which he ended up performing on his last public recital.

The third very important influence on my musical life was Maestro Charles Bruck, who was the director of the Pierre Monteux Memorial School for conductors in Maine, and who had been Monteux’s assistant in Paris. His insistence on faithful adherence to the wishes of composers and his unbending determination to squeeze the very best out of all of us in the brief time allotted each summer — even if it meant pushing conductors off the podium and yelling first in English, then in French, and (if things got REALLY bad) then in Hungarian — all contributed to my growth, maturity, and resilience as a musician. He also wore suspenders and little red sneakers, but I digress… 

If you weren’t a composer, what would you be doing? 

When I was in high school, I considered pursuing a medical research career, but I couldn’t really stand the thought of giving up performing and composing music. 

I enjoy just about anything involving creating things. I dabble a good deal in graphic art, whether it be pen & ink and watercolor, creating whimsical personalized greeting cards for close friends and family, or designing promotional flyers and programs for concerts, etc. I also designed and sewed my daughter’s wedding dress without a pattern — and she lived 3,000 miles away at the time! I was my father’s workshop assistant for decades and have enjoyed numerous ambitious carpentry projects and other home improvement endeavors. I’m considered to be a quite decent cook and baker as well, and my cookie decorating always excites some lively commentary during the holidays. I served many terms as an officer of the Cleveland Composers Guild and truly enjoy organizing concerts, recording projects, and so on…

So it’s safe to say that if I weren’t a composer, I would be continuing to do ALL of these other things! In fact, I actually indulge myself in diverse creative pursuits on a regular basis, composing music numbering among them in intense and single-minded spurts, rather than constantly. 

Where and when are you at your most creative? 

Ideas seem to come to me when I’m immersed in water: doing laps in the pool or taking a shower! But I also find, like so many composers before me, that taking long walks is excellent for creativity… Oh, and riding on trains, if and when I have a chance. 

Usually I work out the worst compositional conundrums in the middle of the night when I want to be asleep, but any new work (they are alive, you know) insists on being given a lot of mental attention during its most puzzling formative stages. When this happens, I find myself leaping out of bed in the morning to jot down whatever solutions have presented themselves in the wee hours.