One tenor's musical odyssey

Twelve years ago I was a music professor at Florida A&M University, a historically black school in Tallahassee. On the other side of town, Florida State University had invited Dr. Darryl Taylor, a musicologist and tenor, to give a lecture-recital on the subject of African American art song (a term applied to any art song written by an African American). Since the topic seemed germane to both schools and I had a local reputation as a vocal accompanist, I was asked to collaborate with Darryl in concerts at both institutions— a generous offer on Florida State's part, since they were footing the bill.

I knew none of the music; and only a few of the composers were familiar to me, and my acquaintance with them was only recent. Despite the relatively short time I spent learning the pieces and my basic grouchiness (I was almost nine months pregnant), Darryl proved a consummate artist, and working with him was a joy.

I assumed this was a one-time gig, but three years later I got a call asking me if I wanted to perform in Budapest in three weeks. A well-known black singer had cancelled a concert at the Liszt Academy there, and Darryl, the replacement, wanted me to accompany him. I consented, surprised that he had remembered me. Since then, I've collaborated with Darryl on several occasions, including a concert at Weill Recital Hall in New York and a recording entitled Dreamer: A Portrait of Langston Hughes (Naxos). Throughout our association, his passion for disseminating the work of African American composers has never waned.

A nudge from a white voice teacher

Taylor's knowledge of African American art song is the result of a quest that began at age 18 when his first voice teacher, June Roselle, who is white, suggested that he look into music by black composers. At the time, he hadn't even heard of William Grant Still, who is as close to a household name as it gets in this realm. When Darryl got to the University of Southern California as an undergraduate, he asked his teacher for repertoire by black composers. The response was complete ignorance and indifference.

All of that changed during Darryl's graduate study at the University of Michigan with the renowned black tenor George Shirley. As a graduate student, Darryl tried to focused exclusively on African American music. While his colleagues examined Stravinsky, Darryl analyzed works of the pianist/composer Hale Smith. He wrote an essay about forgotten Africanisms in 19th-Century classical music, focusing on a piece by the half-Creole, half-Jewish New Orleans native Louis Moreau Gottschalk, whose fascination with Congo Square, where slaves and later freed people of color would meet to make music, is well documented. Educating himself about the African American influence on classical music became Darryl Taylor's mission.

Searching for black music on the Internet

While at Michigan, Darryl took an independent study course with Willis Patterson, the compiler of two anthologies of African American art song. Patterson encouraged Darryl to publish his paper, "What's So Important about Studying African American Art Song?" in the Journal of the National Association of Teachers of Singing. In it, Darryl argued at length that studying art songs by black composers aids in erasing social stigmas while "fortifying the great quilt of Western civilization." The article (since renamed "The Importance of Singing African American Art Song") included reference information telling readers where to begin searching for this literature.

Darryl soon realized that the Internet was sorely lacking in links related to African American art song, except those leading to Willis Patterson's first anthology, the only one available at the time. So Taylor decided to rectify this deficiency by starting a website. He also began to contact the composers he was promoting, generally without prior introduction. Two of them were unfriendly and one was rude, but most were happy to share their music, especially once they realized he wasn't merely a young composer looking for feedback about his compositions.

An organization is born

Concurrently, his friend the soprano Louise Toppin was conducting similar work, lecturing about and performing songs by African Americans. Darryl decided that it would be a great idea for the two of them to work together. The result was the African American Art Song Alliance.

But Darryl is the driving force behind the AAASA, fielding about 100 inquiries a year. Louise Toppin focuses primarily on her organization, Videmus (www.videmus.org), which releases recordings, publishes scores, supports educational outreach and provides scholarships, all with the aim of promoting the vocal and instrumental music of underrepresented composers. (Willis Patterson is the president; Darryl Taylor is a vice-president.)

Darryl's odyssey suggests the remarkable variety of experiences that the world of music holds forth to a talented musician who's willing to take chances. In his teens Darryl hoped to emulate the rhythm-and-blues legend Peabo Bryson. In high school he switched to performing Western classical music. In college he discovered African American art song. And now his musical evolution continues.

Only castrati need apply

When I met Darryl, he was a tenor with an unusually lovely extended upper range— while we were in Hungary he sang Handel's Ombra mai fu in the alto key, just for fun. A few years ago, he decided to train as a countertenor. Because much of the music performed by countertenors was originally written for castrati— a group of singers whose popularity waned, thank God, in the 18th Century— the countertenor literature skews toward the Baroque. You won't many African American composers in that category (although Moses Hogan, who died recently having barely passed the age of 40, prominently featured a countertenor in his ensemble).

To someone who has seen this unusually gifted interpreter breathing life into a neglected masterwork, as I have, the prospect that Darryl might give up African-American art song for Baroque was dismaying. I asked Darryl how exploring a new vocal niche had affected his repertoire choices. Darryl, who is now on the music faculty of the University of California at Irvine, assured me that he still has a strong desire to perform African American art song— that it's "my responsibility as an artist… to express the yearnings of my artistic self."

Surely artists and their audiences benefit from broadening their horizons. The operatic soprano Renee Fleming also sings jazz. Linda Ronstadt interspersed her pop career by singing Gilbert and Sullivan. Can the remarkable Darryl Taylor straddle the distant worlds of Baroque and African American art song? I certainly hope so.