About this Piece

The symbolism of Aaron Copland’s birth in the first year of the 20th century in Brooklyn is perfectly clear in light of the composer’s long love affair with the American public: A new era of pride in artists of the United States seemed to have been born along with the new century. However, America’s acceptance of Copland was not inevitable. Following his training in Paris with the famous composer-maker Nadia Boulanger, he would probably be regarded still as just another one of those fellows who wrote difficult music had he not developed his distinctive “American” sound.

Copland’s “Americanization” came about with his determination to communicate to a large general audience. He wanted to see if “I couldn’t say what I had to say in the simplest possible terms.” The results of his effort were nothing short of amazing, and in almost no time at all Copland had developed a style that was as American as the plains and prairies, cowboys and Appalachia. Yet, in its informed skill, Copland’s music was compositionally sophisticated and artistically tasteful.

Many of Copland’s early successes came on the ballet stage, beginning with Billy the Kid in 1938 and continuing with Rodeo in 1942 and Appalachian Spring in 1943. This was in keeping with the 20th century’s dancemusic preoccupation, largely owing to the influence of the Ballets Russes, which commissioned Stravinsky’s triumvirate of balletic masterpieces, The Firebird (1910), Petrushka (1911), and The Rite of Spring (1913).

Copland wrote Billy the Kid for the American Ballet Caravan on a commission by its director, Lincoln Kirstein, who wrote the libretto. The ballet, with choreography by Eugene Loring, was first performed in Chicago in October 1938. The score is prefaced by the following remarks:

“The action begins and closes on the open prairie. Billy is seen for the first time as a boy of twelve with his mother. A brawl turns ugly, guns are drawn, and in some unaccountable way Billy’s mother is killed. Without an instant’s hesitation, in cold fury, Billy draws a knife from a cowhand’s sheath and stabs his mother’s slayers. His short but famous career has begun. In swift succession we see episodes in Billy’s later life. At night, under the stars, in a quiet card game with his outlaw friends. Hunted by a posse led by his former friend Pat Garrett, Billy is pursued. A running battle ensues. Billy is captured. A drunken celebration takes place. Billy in prison is, of course, followed by one of Billy’s legendary escapes. Tired and worn in the desert, Billy rests with his girl. Starting from a deep sleep, he senses movement in the shadows. The posse has finally caught up with him.”

In his score for Billy, Copland conjures an old-American musical consciousness in which he quotes such authentic cowboy songs as “The Dying Cowboy,” “Git Along, Little Dogies,” “The Old Chisholm Trail,” and “Goodbye Old Paint.” These tunes, as well as the purely original music, come out of Copland’s Americana blender thoroughly mixed with jaunty, irregular rhythms; spicy dissonances; simple, triadic harmonies; intimate and/or grand orchestral textures; and tons of spirit. A heady mix indeed.

—Orrin Howard