joy

It began with Beethoven.

Bright yellow T-shirts reading, in raspberry type, “¡Bienvenido Gustavo!” marked Gustavo Dudamel’s first concert as music director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic the first Saturday afternoon of October 2009 at the Hollywood Bowl. Eighteen thousand tickets were distributed free for a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, an Angeleno “Ode to Joy” broadcast worldwide. The exultant young Venezuelan conductor’s message was: There is no North, South or Central America. We are one.

We are now in “Gracias Gustavo” season, and times, we are daily reminded, they are a-changin’. But what remains consistent is that Dudamel begins again, in the first month of his six-month homestretch as L.A. Phil music director, by dwelling on the composer he says has meant the most to him since his earliest days as a kid conductor in Caracas. His first major recording boasted startlingly propulsive performances of Beethoven’s Fifth and Seventh Symphonies, with the uproarious Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela, recorded 20 years ago this month. In August, Dudamel will end his L.A. Phil tenure as he began it, with Beethoven’s Ninth at the Bowl.

Through these two decades, thick and COVID-lockdown thin, Beethoven has been Dudamel’s composer of uplift. This weekend he confronts, for the first time, Beethoven’s daunting mystical and mystifying “Missa Solemnis.” In following weeks, he will pair Beethoven symphonies with two of the most arresting and original of the dozens of new works he has premiered in Los Angeles — Gabriela Ortiz’ Glitter Revolution ballet score, “Revolución Diamantina,” and the first part of Thomas Adès “Dante” ballet.

To begin the Beethoven month at Walt Disney Concert Hall, however, Dudamel turned to another Beethoven work that has long obsessed him, the rarely heard complete incidental to Goethe’s tragedy, “Egmont,” which has the ever-relevant theme that matters most to Dudamel — the profound joy that arises from victory over injustice. For this, he had the assistance of actress Cate Blanchett and playwright Jeremy O. Harris.

Here, too, Beethoven serves as a musical, spiritual and political touchstone. “Egmont” comes in the middle of Beethoven’s career, his heroic period. The historic Egmont was a Flemish general, a hero to his people in the Netherlands who attempts to serve the 16th ^{century Spanish emperor, Philip II, and rife for Goethe’s romanticizing. A remarkable polymath, Goethe himself served as an advisor to Weimar’s Grand Duke, brilliantly balancing political compromises with literature’s highest spiritual callings. He admired the spirit of liberty, for instance, yet opposed the French Revolution and supported Napoleon, believing that ensuing populist disorder would then, as it turned out, require autocracy.}

Goethe’s Egmont must learn to love before he can act to defend his people against Philip. The hero goes to his death at the point of self-realization that only in sacrifice may he ascend to and become a symbol for glory.

In the play, which begins as historic epic and becomes, for Goethe, increasing personal and interior, Egmont gains perspective on the complexities of his place in politics by contemplating nature and being. Among Goethe’s many passions were scientific study. He immersed himself in the natural world and befriended the pioneering German environmentalist, Alexander von Humboldt.

It could, thus, have been hardly coincidence that Dudamel opened the program with the premiere of “Humboldt’s Nature” by Venezuelan composer Ricardo Lorenz. The five-part, 25-minute symphonic poem for a large orchestra rife with percussion follows Humboldt’s account of his journey to Venezuela in 1799.

Symphonic glitter sets the stage of New Andalusia. Guacharo birds shriek. Latin rhythms take us to coastal regions. Sandy percussion accompanies a journey up the Orinoco River. Throughout, Lorenz’s orchestra, imaginatively colored, reflects vast nature. But the score ends with the shock of humanity, as Humboldt encounters enslaved Cubans.

The one thing Goethe lacked was a sophisticated ear for music (and possibly sound). But Humbolt’s account could practically be the starting place for Beethoven’s “Egmont,” begun a decade after the Venezuelan encounter. In the popular overture, elicitation of tumult concludes, with startling exhilaration, in the kind of grand Beethovenian triumph that never fails to excite. The incidental music, though, offers needed theatrical context. That includes two songs for Egmont’s love, Klärchen, four entr’actes, a melodrama for Egmont as he approaches his execution and, powerfully as only Beethoven can, a battle cry.

Goethe has never lost relevance. Matthew Bell’s new biography, “Goethe’: A Life in Ideas,” has given Germany’s Shakespeare new attention. One of the greatest plays of our time, Tom Stoppard’s “Arcadia,” confronts Goethe’s “Elective Affinities” with our own elective affinities. One of the greatest operas of our time, John Adams’ “Doctor Atomic,” contemplates the creation of nuclear weapons as the functioning of a latter-day Faust, Goethe’s most lasting creation.

“Egmont,” too, readily speaks to us and it has been on Dudamel’s agenda for years. While performances of the complete play with the incidental music are rare, a half-hour concert version, also rare but less so, proves effective. Dudamel did it with the Berlin Philharmonic in June, a performance of which can be viewed on the orchestra’s Digital Concert Hall. The narrator is a young Austrian actor, Felix Kammerer, who is riveting (as he is in Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein”). He adds a slight introduction revealing Egmont’s indecisiveness, but otherwise sticks to Goethe.

Cate Blanchett narrates Beethoven’s incidental music to “Egmont” with Gustavo Dudamel conducting the Los Angeles Philharmonic at Walt Disney Concert Hall.

(Elizabeth Asher / Los Angeles Philharmonic)

Harris, who is the author of “Slave Play,” has other elective affinities. He has created a new, effusively angry text for Blanchett. It begins as a dirge. Battalions are gathered on the banks of Portland, Ore.; Bethlehem; Charlotte, N.C.; Tehran; Minneapolis; Brussels. The Egmont Harris references is the historical one, not Goethe’s. The text become a bald call for action.

Much of it was lost to the audience, since reverberant amplification gave heroic heft to Blanchett’s voice at the cost of intelligibility. But her intensity, whether seated on the lip of the stage, where she begins, or standing in the organ loft where she winds up at the end, spoke for itself.

Beethoven’s music improves Goethe, extracting its humanity and frailty, and Dudamel’s performance probed its profound inevitability of good triumphing over evil. Soprano Elena Villalón added lithe touch to Klärchen’s songs, sung in their original German.

But Beethoven can do little for Harris’ and Blanchett‘s agitprop. Theirs is the necessity of the moment to act rather than indulge an Egmont who has to feel before he can respond. Although Blanchett was the joyless conductor in the film “Tár,” her curious little dance in the organ loft at the moment of musical triumph may have meant recovered joy or simply that the world, in which we are no longer one, has gone crazy.

Equally peculiar was a performance of Schumann’s Piano Concerto that served as transition from “Humboldt” to “Egmont.” One of the concerto highlights of Dudamel’s music directorship in L.A. is a performance, eight years ago, of the concerto’s mood-shifting eloquence, for which he and Mitsuko Uchida were in wondrous accord.

This time, the soloist was the stellar emerging pianist Yunchan Lim, who keeps to himself, either lost in dreamy reverie or, like a jumpy teenager, in ferocious attack mode. Having little choice, Dudamel let Lim be. Like Egmont, Lim’s glory may one day arrive when he can express purpose for his actions.

As is always the case, the Grammys this year will be dominated by pop, rap, country and rock. But the best races often lie in the less mainstream genres. Take best jazz vocal album, where Samara Joy, Dee Dee Bridgewater and Bill Charlap, Michael Mayo, Terri Lyne Carrington and Christie Dashiell and Nicole Zuraitis are competing for the honor.

The highly impressive group reflects the current state of jazz, where both young guns and veterans are combining to bring the music to a new swell of fans. To talk about the present state of jazz, The Times brought together 26-year-old Joy and 75-year-old Bridgewater. What followed is an incredible conversation on politics, race, equality and mutual fandom.

You both have had Grammy success. But is it still just as thrilling to be nominated?

Dee Dee Bridgewater: I can speak on that because I haven’t been nominated in years. And yeah, it’s a thrill when you’re nominated and you haven’t been and you’ve done something that your peers think is Grammy worthy. I don’t know about Samara, but for me, I don’t do any of my recorded projects with the intention of getting a Grammy nomination, which seems to be the goal of a lot of younger artists. So that me doing something that I just was trying to chronicle and because of this work that Bill and I have been doing off and on for the last few years, it’s like the icing on the cake. It’s wonderful.

Samara Joy: Agreed, when I say I’m just grateful to be here, like in this space, being able to talk about this in this way, I mean it. It wasn’t the intention behind making the music that I love to make with the people I love to make it with. And when kids come up to me and they say, “Because of you, now my goal is to be a Grammy winner.” I’m like, “You’ve already strayed way off course. We need to come back.” And realize that the accolades and the awards and the acknowledgment is beautiful because it’s coming from your peers and we’re celebrating each other. It’s amazing, it’s exciting, it’s wonderful. I’m grateful for it. But at the same time, the other 364 days of the year, we’re working and we’re touring and we’re performing because we love it. And it’s with the intention of seeing what else we can learn and express and finding new ways to do that. I’m grateful to be in the conversation, but also I’m using it even more as an opportunity to thank the people who support us and who listen to the music and who come to the concerts to say that that’s what I love. So, the fact that people have connected with it enough to acknowledge it on such a high level is amazing, but the love of it never goes away.

Bridgewater: Yes, I agree with that, Samara. When I do my work, because I like to call myself an artist who flies under the radar, I’m basically out there trying to bring joy to people. With the music that I do, I try to change up the projects depending on what is going on in the world or depending on what I’m thinking about and feeling about society and just trying to make a connection with people and be a conduit for the people and speak through the songs, things that I think will bring them joy or get them to think about some things that they are not wanting to say out loud. So, that’s what I’m doing right now. Then with my music, what I’m trying to do is bring more attention to women in jazz. For the last few years, aside from my occasional concerts with Bill [Charlap], I have been working with women. I have created a band. I call it We Exist! We are doing socially conscious music, some protest songs, and that is what I’m taking around the world. Generally, people come up to me and say, “Thank you so much for saying these things for us. We need to hear this.” My concern at my older age, now that I’m in my golden years, is the state of society and the world and this political crisis that we are in. So, I’m trying to speak about this in a way that people can hear it without getting on some kind of political bandstand and speaking in that way. I think that the world is in danger politically and I think our democracy is in danger. That’s my concern and that’s what I’m trying to do through my music. Also, I want people to see more women in the jazz space, and I think as an elder it’s almost an obligation of mine to lead that front and present this and present this image. I get many women that come up and say, “Thank you so much for doing this for women.” So, that’s where my head is right now.

Dee Dee Bridgewater

(Hernan Rodriguez)

How exciting is it to see that, of the jazz vocal nominees, four of the five are women?

Bridgewater: Yeah, and isn’t that wonderful? But I can say this, for vocal jazz, it usually is women. This has been the place where we have been allowed to shine as vocalists. It’s been for many, many years, the only place where we’re allowed to shine. So, when you get female instrumentalists besides Terri Lyne [Carrington] because Terri Lyne broke through in a period of when there were not a lot of jazz drummers, so that she worked with Herbie [Hancock] and she worked with Wayne [Shorter]. They gave her a platform that most women are not granted. Of course, also, one has to be extremely talented. And Terri Lyne can stand beside any man and hold her own and outdo many men. That’s not the point. The point is that she had that opportunity. They gave her that opportunity and then she’s been able to pay it forward. But to see instrumentalists like Lakecia Benjamin who has really come to the forefront as an alto saxophonist and to see her get Grammy nominations, that’s something that, for me, is huge.

Samara, talk about what you’re seeing in the scene today in terms of gender disparity and overall vibe.

Joy: I’ve had the opportunity to play with some amazing ones. I went to the Vanguard a few weeks ago and sat in with [Christian] McBride and Savannah Harris was on drums. I played with Alexandra Ridout, who is an incredible trumpet player as well. Although I understand the disparity in the current time and throughout history, I also understand that I might be living through a privileged time where I just kind of see women around me everywhere. So, I don’t understand what it’s like to be without it on the scene. I can read about the fact that maybe at a time saxophone was taking precedence over jazz vocals or with each era, there’s a new focus. But I guess on the scene now I’m proud to be able to see all of these wonderful women composers and instrumentalists stepping to the forefront.

Both of you have made music that is very uplifting as well. In these difficult times, music is something that can lift the spirits and bring people together. For each of you talk about making music that uplifts because there are so many great jazz standards that have the point of lifting up the world.

Bridgewater: I’m here in town at Birdland with Bill Charlap and we are doing songs from the American Songbook primarily and Duke Ellington. It has nothing to do with anything that’s going on today, politically speaking. Last night was our first show and the audience just loved it. So, there is that side that one can take. And I’ve been very apolitical. It’s just since the two Trump administrations and the Gaza war that happened and some other things that I’ve seen going on outside of the United States that have really incensed me that I felt the need to speak out in the way that I am, you know. But it is wonderful to go to a show and have people come to see a show and be able to completely lose themselves and be outside of what is going on for that span of time that they are with the artists. For the other side, when I do these socially conscious songs, people come and say, “Oh my God, thank you. I needed to hear that. I needed to hear someone.” Because my point at the end of my show is I say, “We the people have the power, we can’t forget that. We are the people that can motivate the change and protect our democracy because we see democracy being chipped away around the world.” I grew up in an era where there was a distinct difference between Black and white and I was not able to be served when I would go to sit at a lunch counter as a little Black girl. So, I’ve experienced both sides. My awareness is different than Samara’s and I feel the alarms. The alarm bells are just ringing for me. But when I come back and I do a show with Bill, sometimes it’s difficult for me to get into these sweet, innocent songs because they don’t have the gravitas that I’m experiencing doing a Nina Simone song like “Mississippi Goddam.” For me, artistically speaking, it’s been interesting to find a balance. Samara, you do these beautiful songs with that stunning voice of yours. Your take is totally different. And you’ve grown up in another era.

Joy: This is the first time in my life that I have not only been aware of what’s happening in the world but also feel compelled. Like, I have a responsibility to do something about it because I’ve never been so aware of what is happening around me as I am right now. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing but I just feel like, ”OK, I’m an adult and this is the world that I live in and I have a responsibility as one of the people living in this world to not only do something about it right now but do something for the next generation of people who are going to have to live in the world that results in what we do right now.” It’s scary. I don’t know how people do it, especially because it’s not as difficult right now. It’s not as difficult for me to say something that might have been for an Abbey Lincoln or Nina Simone or whoever. I’m also living in a sort of luxury in that way that I don’t have to speak out and be the only one who is doing so and then be proven right later. In that way, I’m like, “I have to because of all these women who have gone before me, who made that difference and who stood and didn’t get appreciated or thanked for it in the moment, have made it so that the world that I live in now, as crazy as it is, I’m able to have a platform in the first place and be able to lead some sort of charge — or at least spread some sort of message so that the world that we’re building for the ones who come later. It’s not just about me right now, it’s all interconnected.” It feels a little heavy, a little scary. I’m still trying to figure out where my voice fits.

Bridgewater: You know what, honey, I get that. When I was your age, I honestly was not at all concerned about politics and what was going on. I was concerned about my Blackness because I’ve experienced our people being named four different times. When I was a little girl, I was colored, then I was Negro, and when they said Black, I was incensed because your hair is black. Our skin is brown. But I understand where you’re coming from because you are coming up in a different time. And you are just beginning to navigate all of the politics, so you’re going to probably go through a similar kind of thing that I went through when I was young, and I concentrated on just writing my music and things that spoke to me. You’re fine where you are and you’re going to learn to navigate all of this in time and what I would hope for you is that you don’t feel a weight. We’re all going to feel this heaviness because of the situation that we’re in but as an artist, I want you to feel free to discover and do the things that you feel in your spirit and not feel led to do something because it’s what’s going on around you. You’ve got to continue to stay true to yourself, which you’ve been doing, which is wonderful. I’m at a different stage in my life. I’m in the last quarter of my life. I’m 75 and I’ve been through all of this stuff. I feel like I’m at a place where if I want to say something instead of not like I’ve done in the past, I’m going to speak my mind. I want to say this to Samara and I’ve said this to her before. But I am so proud of you and what you are doing. And you have a voice that the gods have blessed you with, Samara. At my age to be in the same space with you for the Grammys, I am so tickled. I love you so dearly. I truly do, and you know that. The times that we’ve been on stage together, it’s been wonderful for me. I want you to know that there are people who are your elders who, besides loving you like we do, we depend on you, Samara. You have been able to enter the space and bring jazz to the world in a way that we were not.

Joy: I love you too. I’m sitting here thinking about one of the first times I got the chance to see you perform at Blue Note. I was there with my professor at the time. I was so nervous, but I’m so honored to know you. I’m so honored to have loved you from afar and now get the chance to love you up close and honor you and appreciate you and shower you just as you have showered me.

If you were going to do one song together at the Grammys, what would you want to do?

Joy: “I Wish I Knew How it Would Feel to be Free,” [Nina Simone].

Bridgewater: That’s in my repertoire. I do that. That would be a great one, Samara. I’m on board. We would tear it up.

Why go now

Leith is Edinburgh’s port district, where people, goods and new ideas have flowed into the city for centuries. Here, the Water of Leith river meets the sea, and on bright days, when pubs and restaurants spill out to the Shore area, there’s nowhere quite like it. I moved here 13 years ago, and it has been a joy to watch the area evolve and reinvent itself. Today it’s the city’s creative heart, full of artists, musicians, designers and startups, with a thriving food and drink scene. The arrival of the tramline from Edinburgh city centre in 2023 has given it a big boost too.

Although the Leith immortalised in Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting is long gone, to call it fully gentrified would be failing to pay attention. Two recent campaigns, both successful, have galvanised locals: one to stop Waterstones opening near the independent Argonaut Books; and the other to return the benches used by day-drinkers on the Kirkgate, which had been removed by the council. There’s space for both in Leith.

What keeps me here is the strong, village-like community spirit, paired with the ever-changing energy of a city. One day I can get stuck into digging on the Community Croft; the next I’m immersed in art galleries, gigs and fine dining. For visitors, Leith offers a slice of real Edinburgh, with no bus tours, shops selling tartan tat, or out-of-tune bagpipes.

Where to eat and drink

Leith’s food and drink ranges from Michelin-starred restaurants to community cafes, old-men’s pubs to smart cocktail bars. Over the past few years there has been a flurry of openings that mirror the creativity of the area. “Leith has the perfect mix of old and new: places that have been here for decades, and new energy coming through,” says chef Barry Bryson. “It’s multicultural, rich and varied, and serves a community of diners, not just one demographic.” Bryson opened his first restaurant, Barry Fish, on the Shore in early 2025. Immediately it became one of my favourite places to eat. I recommend cosying into the calm green interiors and ordering the trout pastrami and lobster agnolotti.

Chef Roberta Hall-McCarron and her husband, Shaun McCarron, opened the cafe-bar Ardfern in 2024, next door to their fine-dining restaurant The Little Chartroom. I’ve eaten there at every hour, enjoying lazy brunches, birthday lunches, early evening oysters and long dinners with friends. The hash browns are non-negotiable, most recently topped with sprout kimchi, fish sauce aioli and nori. “It’s inspiring to be part of a supportive, creative community,” says Shaun.

That emphasis on community is echoed at Dogstar, newly opened by chef James Murray along with Michael Lynch and Kyle Jamieson of Nauticus bar. After years cooking at the highest level and earning a Michelin star at Timberyard, Murray found an increasing sense of disconnect with the world of fine dining. “The next stage for me was wanting to live and work in my community, so choosing Leith was intentional,” he says. “There’s a pride to people down here. If it’s a Leith spot cooking for Leith people, they get behind you.” Sitting at the bar watching dishes spin in the kitchen, eating shellfish straight from the coals, and dunking warm focaccia into anchovy sauce, I’m certainly behind this restaurant.

Cultural experiences

To discover Leith’s artistic community, visit Custom Lane, a collaborative design space in the old Custom House building on the river, with artists’ workshops, galleries and an excellent cafe. Onsite, Bard is a gallery and shop designed to look like the home of a collector. Husbands Hugo Macdonald and James Stevens travel across Scotland bringing contemporary Scottish design to Leith, inviting the curious to explore the integration of high-end design in a domestic environment. Regardless of your interiors budget, it’s not to be missed.

Across the river is Brown’s of Leith, the newest outpost of Custom Lane. This vast three-storey Victorian warehouse has been transformed into a multi-use creative space by GRAS architects. On the ground floor, three food businesses – ShrimpWreck shellfish bar, Haze for wine and top-tier snacks, and Civerinos pizza – share a relaxed dining area, with more residents, events and collaborations imminent. “At Brown’s we identified a need for spaces that genuinely support and celebrate creativity,” says architect Gunnar Groves-Raines of GRAS. The restaurateurs are equally enthusiastic. “Leith has a strong sense of identity: independent, creative and rooted in its history,” says Joseph Radford of Haze. “Our intention is to respond to that rather than overwrite it.” I visit early in the evening when the lights are low, the music perfectly pitched and the atmosphere a relaxed buzz. Soon our table is full of oysters, bowls of mussels and tinned fish on toast. It’s a lot of fun.

Further collaborative art spaces across Leith are also worth exploring. Between Drill Hall, The Biscuit Factory and Coburg House Art Studios, there’s always something interesting going on. And there’s more to come – after years of tireless volunteer fundraising and campaigning, Leith theatre has been awarded lottery funding to restore the beautiful 1932 art deco building to its former glory. Pop-ups in the space, including a past Edinburgh international festival residency, have offered a thrilling glimpse of the future.

Where to shop

Leith is home to some great independent shops. Argonaut Books, inside the old train station, is run by people passionate about reading, and has a lovely cafe and regular events. Arty gift shops include Logan Malloch, Flux and Handsel on Leith Walk – all sell work by local artists. For interesting wine, head to the tiny independent Bludge.

Don’t miss

The Royal Yacht Britannia attracts hundreds daily, keen for a glimpse of how the monarchs holidayed. But I prefer the Port of Leith Distillery, an impressive-looking “vertical distillery” where whisky production takes place from top-to-bottom over nine storeys. Tours of the stills are fascinating and the views over the Firth of Forth to Fife from the cafe and bar are unmatched. Take a stroll along the Water of Leith path, perhaps followed by a visit to a taproom for a fresh pint. Leith has a flourishing craft brewery scene, and Moonwake, Campervan and Newbarns all have welcoming taprooms.

Stay

Malmaison Edinburgh has smart riverside rooms (from £77 room-only), or push the boat out (pun intended) and spend the night on board Fingal (cabins from £269 B&B), a former lighthouse tender turned luxury hotel, permanently moored in Leith.