The Inside Story: THE MUSIC OF MELISSA C. SHIFLETT

THE MUSIC OF MELISSA C. SHIFLETT is an impressive showcase of the lyricism that contemporary American serious music has to offer. As she reflects upon natural beauty, Melissa C. Shiflett nonchalantly intertwines the musical with the poetic in this release.

Today, Melissa is our featured artist on the “Inside Story,” a blog series exploring the inner workings and personalities of our composers and performers. Read on to learn some of the wisdom she gained from her mentor, and the deep immersion she discovered during her first live performance…

Take us on a walk through your musical library. What record gets the most plays? Are there any “deep cuts” that you particularly enjoy? 

The last scene with the rustics in Britten’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. It gives me a feeling of hope and deep joy. The rustics, up to that point have been silly and witty, but here there’s a sudden twist and as Thisby sings, “These lily lips, this cherry nose…” and laments the death of another character in this play-within-a-play scene in the opera, the music swells open with an old-fashioned full-bodied echo of past times. The brass and the double basses have this repeated note heartbeat rhythmic pattern going, and it’s inspiring to try and find out just how Britten pulled that off within the context of the whole opera. I’m glad he did. 

What were your first musical experiences? 

A year before I was old enough to join the children’s choir, I was spying on them in rehearsal from the back of the church basement. They were practicing what I later learned was an arrangement of Frank Loesser’s Inchworm. This is a song that has a slightly rubato solo line sung against the backdrop of the inchworm’s recitation about “measuring the marigolds.” The counterpoint sounds inevitable and spontaneous, and the coloring that I always see for Loesser’s music had these tropical light oranges and pinks. Plus, the message of the lyrics was so moving — stop and look at the beauty of the marigolds that you’re so diligently climbing. It made me want to learn how to sing well enough to get assigned the solo in Inchworm. 

What’s the greatest performance you’ve ever seen, and what made it special? 

The best performance that I can remember seeing was the Jean Cocteau Repertory theater’s production of Brecht and Weill’s Threepenny Opera in New York City. Again, it was the ending that thrilled me. There were several twists: first the protagonist, Macheath, is going to be executed, then he is suddenly and unexpectedly pardoned by the queen and made a nobleman (totally silly), then, Peachum (Macheath’s antagonist) steps forward and breaks the fourth wall, speaking/singing directly to the audience. He explains that the happy ending of this play really isn’t true to reality. Finally, the whole cast draws together and walks forward to face the audience and sings together, in unison, with a suddenly classical sound like a triumphal march, and a final warning about life being a “vale of tribulation and care should be taken to approach it with moderation even while combating injustice.” It was this final tutti section and the breaking of the fourth wall in the theater that made the audience feel included, filling them with emotion. I was glad my husband and daughter were there, too, because we all experienced the same intensity.

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

It’s hard to choose from all of my teachers, who were mostly extremely kind to me and inspiring. William Ferris, the composer, conductor, and founder of the 50 member chorale of the same name had a huge influence on my development as a composer, and was the last teacher I studied composition with. Knowing my abilities in composition, theater, singing, and storytelling he steered me in the direction of opera, which was also his favorite form of composition. He supplied me with singers from his chorale to perform my initial large vocal works. One of the things I strive to do that he insisted on, is to take care of my completed works as if they were my own children, to finish them, to stand by them and be a good shepherd to their eventual pathway to the public, no matter how long it takes. 

Tell us about your first performance. 

The first performance I remember was a fiasco. It was a piano recital, again in the church basement. I learned everything by ear in those days, and I was very confident about my musical flare. I went to the stage to perform, and in the middle of the piece, got stuck. I did the thing young students do, I kept looping back trying to “get back in” to the passage where I had derailed. I was so surprised by this new phenomenon of getting lost in a piece, that I wouldn’t quit playing or end it, and finally just lay my head down on top of the keyboard, oblivious to the audience, and totally mystified (but not at all embarrassed!) My gentle piano teacher finally came up and led me off the stage. It did not deter me in the least. 

How have your influences changed as you’ve grown as a composer? 

When I was very young, I used to listen and dance to my mother’s record of the month, RCA Victor Record Club recordings. My favorite was the Manuel Ponce guitar concerto played by Segovia. Divine. In those days I felt that the orchestra was very three dimensional, I could imagine the players, as the sound floated through the living room. A bit later, I seemed to temporarily lose my ear for the orchestra. My focus became narrower. I was given my own recordings of Buffy Sainte Marie, and Harry Belafonte and I related to the solo singer and songwriter materials, as I probably wanted to do that, too. In my teens, after a very big guitar/singing phase (and complete digestion of Joni Mitchell and Laura Nyro) I was smitten with Bach and all his counterpoint. I went back to the piano. At a much later stage my favorites influences have been Stravinsky, Britten, Janacek, Bartok, Milhaud, Shostakovich, yes, basically tonal master composers, big on structure, theatrical, and they make you want to move… the list goes on. But still, always Bach for piano practice every day.