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So why is it that a cappella singing feels less intimidating than singing in a choir?

AARON JENSEN, artistic director of SING!:When many people hear the phrase “a cappella” they think Glee — visions of spirited high school students recklessly brandishing “jazz hands” (or the even more saccharine, “spirit fingers”) and belting out triadic auto-tuned harmonies with bravado — but the term has much older roots. “A cappella,” literally meaning “in the manner of the chapel,” refers to all vocal music performed with no instrumental accompaniment. This umbrella term covers the music of countless styles, genres and cultural backgrounds.

Even though SING! is an a cappella festival, we’ve branded ourselves as a “vocal arts” festival to best represent this diversity. Under our roof, patrons can hear all manner of a cappella including: classical choral groups, vocal jazzers, gospel choirs, world ensembles, live-looping artists, pop vocal bands, barbershop quartets, collegiate glee-clubbers, vocal improv collectives and even a cappella comedy troupes.

So does a festival like SING! help to bridge the gulf (if there is one) between solo and choral singing? What’s in it for people coming from a more formal (if that’s the right word) choral background? And on the other hand, for bathtub divas what does it say about the potential joys of showering with a few friends?

Wayne Koestenbaum in his seminal 1993 book, The Queen’s Throat: Opera, Homosexuality and the Mystery of Desire, defines “diva” as “a woman opera singer of great fame and brilliance.” While the main focus of the book is the link between opera and homosexuality, Koestenbaum also gives illustrations of radical fandom and diva worship.

My absolute favourite story in Koestenbaum’s book concerns the English sisters, Ida and Louise Cook, who developed fanatic attachments to Amelita Galli-Curci and Rosa Ponselle, both of whom they befriended. The best part of the story is that the Cook sisters were instrumental in smuggling Jews out of Nazi territories during World War II. Yet rather than basking in their heroism, Ida, in her memoir, We Followed Our Stars, lamented that their war-work “cost us Ponselle’s Donna Anna, Carmen, Luisa Miller and Africana. That was what mattered.”

How do you celebrate the 100th anniversary of the birth of a composer?

The obvious answer is with a concert, or even two, both of them freebies. And why not commission a new work in his name while you’re at it? You can also mount a symposium of scholarly papers, create a website in his name to perpetuate his legacy, and even have the historical society put a commemorative plaque on the building where he grew up.

John Weinzweig (1913–2006), the recipient of these tributes, is not just any composer. There are three words that everyone who knew him uses to describe the Weinzweig legacy: composer, teacher and activist. These are not separate threads. Rather, they are woven together into a single tapestry. The man and his music in all its guises are inseparable.

He was a force of nature. In terms of composition, Weinzweig was a true pioneer, a voyageur of art who introduced 12-tone serialism to Canada, and with it, the aesthetic of New Music. As a teacher, first at the Royal Conservatory, then at the University of Toronto (1939–77), he is the acknowledged doyen of Canadian concert composers whose legion of devoted former students literally spans the country from sea to sea.

There was a heightened sense of anticipation in Toronto’s Jane Mallet Theatre as the Tokyo Quartet walked on stage for their concert in January. This was the 45th concert the quartet had played in Toronto since their first visit 37 years ago. But it was by no means business as usual. They had just announced that this season would be their last.

Earlier that day I had a chance to talk with the four members of the quartet, first violinist Martin Beaver, second violinist Kikuei Ikeda, violist Kazuhide Isomura and cellist Clive Greensmith. Both Isomura, who was one of the founders of the quartet in 1969, and Ikeda, who joined five years later, had played in that first Toronto performance. After a few other changes in personnel, Greensmith joined in 1999 and Beaver three years later.

As we talked over lunch, I was struck by how intently these four very different individuals listened to each other. They finished each other’s sentences, embellished each other’s stories, commented on each other’s thoughts and recollections, joked with each other, and laughed a lot. They just seemed to enjoy each other.

After their final performance in July at the summer home of the Yale School of Music, where they have taught for many years, the quartet will disband. Fortunately, before that, they’ll be back in Toronto in April to give two more concerts.

It’s a frigid afternoon in Regent Park, but spring is in my step as I set foot in the Paintbox Bistro at 555 Dundas Street East, and not merely because it’s a cool space. I’m here to interview two genuinely gifted Canadian musical icons, both alike in dignity and warmth.

Jackie Richardson is on stage at the tail end of a rehearsal, infusing Duke Ellington’s “Take Love Easy” with her trademark combination of swing, soul and sincerity. She’s backed by pianist Stacie McGregor, bassist Artie Roth and drummer Archie Alleyne; along with trumpeter Alexander Brown, the five will be performing in celebration of Alleyne’s 80th birthday the following evening, which launches a new jazz series at the promising Paintbox.

Pianist, composer, music director, recording artist and recently appointed Member of the Order of Canada, Joe Sealy, who will play here in late April, arrives right on time. He greets the musicians warmly as they get off the bandstand, and before long Sealy, Richardon and I are seated comfortably on the colourful couches in the adjacent room. I’ve asked Sealy and Richardson here to discuss Africville Stories, a reworking of Sealy’s JUNO-winning recording Africville Suite (1996), which will be performed as part of the Jazz Performance and Education Centre (JPEC) fourth annual gala at the Toronto Centre for the Arts on the evening of Saturday, February 23.