by Thomas Marinelli ’26 on February 12, 2026

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A&E - Music

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Whether you’re in love or alone, The Police are your Valentine’s band. Why? Well, even if you haven’t been the biggest music listener in your lifetime, it is impossible that you have not heard some of The Police’s songs over the radio, in public, or just out and about. For a while, the band was as big as it gets, and their music only becomes more relevant by the day.

Let’s go back to the ’70s. The classic love songs were always there. You had your Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Wonder-type popular artists, always playing to the beat of their respective genres. Disco love songs, pop love songs, and R&B love songs reigned supreme, even in the shadow of punk, which started to rage. In comes The Police, the English-and-one-American trio band. This time, a new wave, reggae-rock, and jazz-influenced band that was the perfect prescription to bring in the new decade—and they killed it. Millions of records sold, arena tours were packed, and they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Gordon Sumner, known as Sting, Stuart Copeland, and Andy Summers cultivated a sound so unique and powerful that they literally defined a generation of music and a legacy of unforgettable music.

Let’s be exact. “Every Breath You Take,” from their album Synchronicity in 1983, is one of the most popular songs of the ’80s, and of all time. Their songs would pack a punch musically, but they were also always emotional while being restrained, and often about waiting, wanting, or holding back. “Roxanne” is a song about desire, but riddled with guilt and frustration. “Message in a Bottle”—my personal favorite—is a song about loneliness, reaching out, and never having a guarantee of a response. “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic,” a song about unspoken love, and “So Lonely,” a song that backs up loneliness without being dramatic, helped the band get on the map. What they have in common: they are instant vibes, love songs, while not being explicitly so, and most of all, human. They are unapologetically authentic in whatever song they have recorded or sung, and for a reason.

It was their success that led to their eventual breakup, officially in 1986, just two years after their initial split in 1984. The same intensity in the songs that they displayed and the instability that followed mirrored their own band. Even at their peak, Sting always clashed with Summers and Copeland, and soon enough, the band would have inevitably run its course. That being said, the band’s legacy continued. Sting had an amazing solo career and is still going, even reuniting with the other band members in 2007–2008 for a world tour celebrating 30 years since the band started, and it was a monumental success. When it was all said and done, they followed a stereotypical band breakup—they hated each other, but still left an undeniable impact on music.

For this Valentine’s Day, remember this: many times love is seen as a final destination, but The Police see it as a moment or a force—something essential to life, and never without pain. It is not always clean, but when it is, those times are worth celebrating. Being emotionally invested is a reward in itself, a sign that you are right where you are meant to be. When The Police broke up, it was not a failure or a tarnished memory, but rather a story that lived its course. And with that, I hope everyone has a good Valentine’s Day, and puts on The Police—it’s worth it.

by Ian Gualtiere ’27 on February 5, 2026

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A&E - Music

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The 1960s and early 1970s were very generous to the singer-songwriter Paul Simon. Simon was a part of the internationally known folk-rock duo Simon & Garfunkel. Their most popular years, which saw greater creative control and worldwide recognition, with the release of five albums that spanned from 1963 to 1970. The duo had hit their stride with three commercially successful albums: the folky Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme (1966), the psychedelic Bookends (1968), and genre-spanning Bridge Over Troubled Water (1970). By the time the duo broke up, due to artistic disagreements and a troubled relationship, Simon & Garfunkel had released some of the most era-defining songs that captured the vast potential and anti-establishment themes within the baby boom generation. This vast array of songs include “The Sound of Silence” (1964) and “I Am a Rock” (1966), “Homeward Bound” (1966) and “The 59^th Street Bridge Song” (1966), “America” (1968) and “Mrs. Robinson” (1968), and their final releases of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” (1970) and “The Boxer” (1970). Simon &Garfunkel entered the 1970s like a divorced couple who just happened to have nine Grammy Awards. 

Like any new solo act who had just left one of the most well-known bands in history, the pressure on Simon to recreate his past success was immense. And produce he did, with two more Grammy wins and three consecutive commercially successful albums: Paul Simon (1972), There Goes Rhymin’ Simon (1973), and Still Crazy After All These Years (1975). Over the next decade, Simon would see ups and downs as he worked on multiple projects that spanned from acting roles to cameo appearances on Saturday Night Live and Sesame Street. An attempted reunion with Garfunkel, which would end in another split, resulted in Simon’s worst-received album to date, Hearts and Bones (1983). 

By 1985, Simon was searching for a new sound and a new break. After being lent a bootlegged cassette tape of mbaqanga music, which originated in Black African street music in Soweto, South Africa, Simon was drawn to the South African sound that reminded him of 1950s rhythm and blues from the United States. Simon’s artistic curiosity led him to try to identify the groups, Ladysmith Black Mambazo and the Boyoyo Boys, and contact them for a possible collaboration in South Africa. What proved to be an extreme issue for traveling and even performing in South Africa was that the United Nations had enacted a cultural boycott on the nation due to its racist policy of apartheid. Apartheid was the practice of forced racial segregation that ensured South Africa’s white minority population had exerted all political, economic, and social influence throughout the nation, while segregation in all aspects of life was imposed upon its black majority. Simon’s determination to explore and emphasize black South African music, and not partake in any agreement with the government, did not deter him as he flew to South Africa in secret. Many of his label producers and executives were not interested in this project, as many viewed Simon to be a commercial failure and bad investment; this, in Simon’s eyes, gave him much more creative control and freedom to explore the hundreds of native South African sounds without any Western interference. 

What resulted from nearly eight months of studio work and production was Simon’s reemergence into the music world, which is viewed by many as his magnum opus. Graceland (1986) sought to capture the sounds that encompassed both American and South African genres: pop, rock, a capella, zydeco, isicathamiya, and mbaqanga. The songs feature numerous South African musicians and groups, even musicians from Lesotho and Senegal, who the album helped put onto an international stage. The themes tackled by Simon’s lyrics paint an image of desperation and hope, darkness and light, and the typical neurotic New York sensibilities that he always shines with. A theme of viewing third-world suffering through the lens of Western materialism often allowed Simon to be critical of the mass consumerism in the 1980s. The first track, “The Boy in the Bubble,” cites examples of starvation and terrorism along with the scene of the “shattering of shop windows / the bomb in the baby carriage was wired to the radio.” “Homeless” employs a capella to describe the racial divide in poverty levels within South Africa, and “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” cites the comical lack of teenage romances due to extreme poverty. “You Can Call Me Al” mentions the fear of becoming inauthentic in the commercial age. The title track, “Graceland,” offers a place of solace where all the downcast, downtrodden, and disregarded can one day be received in peace and comfort, all while paying homage to Elvis Presley’s Memphis home. 

The overarching theme of Graceland is to search for spiritual direction and purpose in this world; whether there are issues of war, poverty, racism, and moral decay, there is still an underlying affirmation that hope will prevail in the face of dread. This theme was emphasized in the real world when, in 1991, the U.N. cultural boycott was lifted at the end of apartheid, and then anti-apartheid activist Nelson Mandela invited Simon to perform in Johannesburg, South Africa. The bridge of music and melody attracted people who were originally separated; the collaboration of Western and non-Western musicians allowed for a carefully cultivated celebration of culture. Graceland remains so distinctly 1980s in sound, yet so timeless in the enduring theme of survival in a modern world. 40 years later, the album continues to captivate listeners in trying to explore new forms of international music; it has come to represent a bridge of understanding in such a polarized world.

by Isabelle Camoin ’26 on February 5, 2026

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A&E - Music

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Bruce Springsteen has returned and reinserted himself into musical history, and the narrative of
current political conflict in the United States. by releasing “Streets of Minneapolis.” This single
about Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s involvement in Minneapolis, MN, and the local
citizens’ reactions is worth a listen. The song takes a stand on the actions of ICE and joins the
city in protest to get “ICE out now.” 

The song demonstrates the power of art’s ability to express situations that words cannot always
describe on their own. The song blatantly calls out President Donald Trump’s administration for
abusing its executive power by calling Trump “King Trump” and ICE agents, “Trump’s private
army from the DHS” and “Trump’s thugs.” The song was released on Wednesday, Jan. 28, and
incorporates ICE’s violent behavior of murdering U.S. citizens into its lyrics and documenting
history in song as these events play out. 

“Here in our home they killed and roamed,” are lyrics that shake the soul of any listener who
cares about the life of democracy and freedom in a nation. Springsteen even quotes the
National Anthem when singing, “In the dawn’s early light / citizens stood for justice / their voices
ringing through the night.” In these lines, Springsteen highlights Americans, specifically
members of the community protesting in Minneapolis, who stand for justice by exercising their
First Amendment rights. In the city of Minneapolis, as this newspaper and other news sources
have reported, people have been protesting the increasingly authoritative and arbitrary
measures ICE has taken against those who live and have homes here in the U.S. Not to
mention, this has all taken place in temperatures averaging sub 10 degrees, or as Springsteen
puts it, “through the winter’s ice and cold.” 

This is not the first time Springsteen has used his artistic talents to take a political stand. A
classic example of this is his creation and performance of “Born in the U.S.A.,” in which he
critiques the U.S.’s involvement in the Vietnam War from the perspective of a disillusioned
veteran.

Springsteen also performed the song live in Minneapolis, and hours later it hit the top of iTunes
charts. Outside of reaching the top of the charts in a day, Springsteen has over 21 million
monthly listeners on Spotify. His audience is wide and the messages he includes in his lyrics are communicated to millions of listeners. The lyrics, “Oh, our Minneapolis, I hear your voice,”
are all the more powerful because he is allowing listeners to hear Minneapolis’ voice as well
through song.

by Sophia Caneira ’29 on December 11, 2025

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A&E - Music

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1. Music of Christmas (1954) — Percy Faith and his Orchestra

In my family, we aren’t allowed to head downstairs on Christmas morning until we hear the opening notes of Percy Faith’s “Joy to the World.” My dad pops the disc into the CD player and queues up the Music of Christmas album, and only then can we head into the family room to open our stockings. Listening to Faith on Christmas morning is one of my favorite family traditions—one started by my great-grandfather, who played the album for my dad when he was growing up. Likewise, I hope to carry on the tradition with my own kids. Hearing Faith’s “The First Noel,” “O Holy Night,” and “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful” instantly reminds me of my great-grandfather and provides a reminder of what Christmas is all about. 

2. The Nutcracker (Complete Ballet Score) (1995) — Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, David Maninov

Another album particularly close to my heart is composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker score. As a lifelong dancer, the familiar tunes from Clara’s magical journey hold for me both inexplicable joy and bittersweet nostalgia. One of the most recognizable tracks from Tchaikovsky’s score is the “Pas de Deux: Dance of the Prince and the Sugar-Plum Fairy.” This one is my favorite by far, yet regarding tone, it is completely different from the rest of the ballet. Amidst an otherwise upbeat, festive score, the movement is incredibly tragic. It is a beautiful piece because of its melancholic sound. The melody builds to the end of the song, giving me chills every time. 

3. A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965) — Vince Guaraldi Trio 

Of course, Christmas cannot be had without classic movies like A Charlie Brown Christmas and their soundtracks. The smooth jazz composed by Vince Guaraldi has become iconic—the piano melody of his song “Linus and Lucy” is particularly well-known. I have found that this album is also great for studying during the Christmas season—festive, but not too distracting (although, whenever I hear “Christmas is Coming,” I’m always struck with the desire to get up and dance). Guaraldi’s score perfectly complements a timeless, feel-good Christmas movie that reminds us of the true meaning of the holiday—not Snoopy’s commercial quest to win an award for the best Christmas decorations, but the love Charlie Brown shows to a little tree no one else wanted. 

4. “Christmastime” (1998) — The Smashing Pumpkins 

Another one of my favorite holiday numbers is the somewhat obscure “Christmastime” by none other than The Smashing Pumpkins. I used to be stuck in my ways when it came to The Smashing Pumpkins—my sister and dad both loved their music, but I was far from convinced. A few years ago, however, I heard the song “Christmastime” on a Christmas music compilation CD, and my sister asked me, “Do you know what band this is?” I was horrified to learn the very band I had sworn not to like was responsible for such a beloved Christmas song. Eventually, I accepted my defeat and grew to love all of their music. 

5. “The Christmas Song (Merry Christmas To You)” (1960) — Nat King Cole 

Perhaps my favorite Christmas song of all time is none other than “The Christmas Song” by Nat King Cole. Each time I listen to this masterpiece, I am captivated by the wistful melody. Cole’s voice is so beautiful, and his piano in the bridge is incredibly emotional. I find it remarkable that artists like Cole have created such melancholy and sentimental music that still feels appropriate for the holiday season. 

6. “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” (2004) — U2 

“Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” seems appropriate as the closer, given that it is the final track on one of my family’s favorite Christmas CDs. As is expected from The Edge, the guitar on this track is explosive. Bono’s vocals are heart-wrenching. Like many Christmas songs, “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” has been recorded by many artists over the years, but in my book, U2’s rendition outshines them all.

by Ian Gualtiere ’27 on November 20, 2025

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A&E - Music

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A music craze originated nearly 90 years ago when Benny Goodman and His Orchestra performed at the Palomar Ballroom in Los Angeles on Aug. 21, 1935. This was the first injection of a style known as big band swing jazz into American radio waves. However, what seemed so polished, so delicately defined, and that which was easily received by diverse audiences by the mid-1930s, had its roots in the rich history of the 1920s African-American jazz scene. Established African-American jazz bands, such as the Fletcher Henderson Orchestra, helped define a new musical practice of sound call-response interplay between brass and reed sections within large bands; this consisted of two phrases being repeated by both sections in succession and appeared to sound like a harmonized conversation. What emerged from this period were the solo interludes by big-time jazz players in their own right, such as Louis Armstrong, Coleman Hawkins, and Buster Bailey. 

By the early 1930s, time signatures within these bands started to pick up a tempo that focused on rhythm over melody; a new term that attempted to hold this explosion of nearly 15 band members playing in harmonious unison would come to be called stomps. The transnational explosion of the radio during this period gave touring bands with heavy experience a chance to record and release these stomps onto the airwaves. Adopting these musical experiments were white band leaders, such as Paul Whiteman, who attempted to combine brass and reed with string sections to create a form of symphonic jazz that used a classical approach to branch jazz and classical music. 

American jazz orchestras soon started to appear regionally with defined sounds closely associated. The Earl Hines Orchestra largely dominated the Midwest; out of New York ballrooms were orchestras individually conducted by pianist Duke Ellington, saxophonist Jimmie Lunceford, and drummer Chick Webb; and what emerged from Kansas City was the “Moten Swing,” engineered by Bennie Moten and his pianist Count Basie, an up-tempo song title to describe the widely popular rhythmic sound. By the height of the Great Depression, however, many of these bands fell on hard times that forced many to disband and pick up solo careers. Some African-American bandleaders, such as Fletcher Henderson, stayed afloat by writing and selling musical arrangements to younger white bandleaders; it was with a full catalogue of Henderson’s arrangements that the Benny Goodman Orchestra performed on the radio show Let’s Dance and eventually premiered live at the Palomar Ballroom. By the end of 1935, the so-called “swing era” was underway, with millions of young Americans across multiple backgrounds and beliefs taking to the audacious rhythms that both Goodman and numerous recently formed orchestras tried to imitate. 

A traditional swing orchestra would consist of a musical dialogue between an incessant rhythm section of percussion and strings, and the previous invention of call-response interplay between the reed and brass sections. What defined orchestras, giving bandleaders such as Glenn Miller, Artie Shaw, and Tommy Dorsey trademark sounds, were the alterations of arrangements and solo improvisations. Some orchestras used vocalists or instrumental soloists who would become the focus of the arrangement by the middle of the piece; most famously, the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra held a young Frank Sinatra under contract, the Chick Webb Orchestra employed Ella Fitzgerald, and Billie Holiday was used by both the Count Basie and Artie Shaw orchestras. The epicenter of the swing scene within the United States was the Savoy and Roseland Ballrooms of New York City, where a constant carousel of orchestras was nationally broadcast live during primetime radio hours. These ballrooms held the “battle of swing bands” that were billed as competitions between two bands who attempted to outperform each other by playing back-to-back. It was during these competitions that battles such as Chick Webb versus Benny Goodman in 1937, Webb versus Count Basie in 1938, and Goodman versus Miller in 1939 at Carnegie Hall that swing music became the principal American cultural output before World War II. 

For nearly 10 years, until the end of World War II, the swing era dominated airwaves as boastful trumpets and shrieking clarinets of various orchestras supplied the American home front with a unified morale and cultural capital. The war, however, severely limited manpower in the swing scene; the traditional 12 to 25 person orchestras were cut, and many either enlisted or were drafted to serve in the war effort. Other band leaders made the jump from civilian life to military life by also taking their musical experiences into their service, most notably Miller, who joined the U.S. Army Air Forces, boosted morale by leading the Major Glenn Miller Army Air Forces Orchestra. His career was ultimately cut short when his transport plane went missing over the English Channel in December 1944. Solo vocalists who gained popularity and headline billing on these orchestras ultimately outgrew their roles and caused tension as contractual employees of the band leaders; it became strikingly apparent that many people came to see Sinatra perform “I’ll Never Smile Again” or “Stardust,” and the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra just happened to be there. Record companies such as Columbia Records saw the value of the emerging status of soloists over bands, and by the end of the war, the age of big band swing was done. 

Occasionally, swing has emerged, albeit weakly, back onto American airwaves, seen in the 1960s in so-called “big band rock,” and the mid-1990s, when full big band orchestras intrigued the Y2K generations. Though a music style that has largely been irrelevant since 1946, the cultural influence that the swing era has had on modern music cannot be understated. The swinging, jumping rhythms that attracted younger generations would find a new home in the rock n’ roll scene of the 1950s and 1960s. The swing era reaffirmed that everyone, regardless of background or belief, wanted to unify under such a richly layered musical style that sent shockwaves across the nation. 

Personal favorites include: “Blueberry Hill” by Miller and His Orchestra; “I’ve Heard That Song Before” by Harry James and His Orchestra & Helen Forrest; “God Bless This Child” by Holiday and Her Orchestra; “The Breeze and I” by Jimmy Dorsey and His Orchestra & Bob Eberly; “Brazil” by Xavier Cugat & Xavier Cugat Orchestra; and “You Made Me Love You” by James and His Orchestra & Forrest.

by Sophia Caneira ’29 on November 20, 2025

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A&E - Music

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Rush Announces Fifty Something Tour

Is it just me, or are there quite a few notable anniversaries currently happening? Last month Charles Schulz’s Peanuts turned 75, next summer, my parents (both members of the Class of 2000) will celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary, and this week, The Cowl celebrates its 90th year of publication! Finally, after 10 years, Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson of the Canadian rock band Rush are going back on tour in 2026 to celebrate “Fifty Something” years making music. 

Rush formed in 1968 in Toronto, Canada, and made its breakthrough in the early 1970s. The band consisted of Geddy Lee (lead vocals, bass, keyboards), Neil Peart (drums, percussion, lyrics), and Alex Lifeson (guitar). Thus far, they have made 19 studio albums and have sold millions upon millions of copies of their records. For decades, the band helped define the hard rock and progressive rock genres.

At the end of Rush’s R40 Live tour in 2015, Peart made the decision to retire from music. He struggled quietly with an aggressive form of brain cancer for several years before he tragically passed away in January of 2020. Despite the skill and raw talent that earned him the nickname “The Professor,” Peart was known as an introvert who disliked the attention and scrutiny associated with fame. He wrote the lyrics of the hit song “Limelight” to illustrate his mixed feelings toward the reality of being a rockstar. In addition to being a lyricist, Peart’s way with words also lent itself to the series of books he published about his life on tour. Peart is remembered as one of the greatest drummers in history, in addition to being a devoted husband and father, and an irreplaceable bandmate and friend.

Now, after 10 years, Rush is getting back on the road. Lee and Lifeson made the announcement via a video filmed in their recording studio, where they reminisced over many years of music and friendship. While Lee and Lifeson acknowledge that performing together will not be the same without Peart, they are also eager to play their songs in a way that honors and celebrates Peart’s music, talents, and legacy. The tour currently includes 58 shows in the United States, Canada, and Mexico. Lee has also mentioned the possibility of extending the tour into 2027. Anika Nilles will be playing the drums on this tour, and Lee has said he hopes to find another musician to play keyboards so he can focus on bass and have fun with Lifeson onstage. Rush’s music has been highly influential over the years, inspiring popular bands such as The Smashing Pumpkins, Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam, Metallica, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The band has won numerous awards and accolades, has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and even has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. For many people, Rush is an acquired taste. However, if you’re a fan of rock music who’s looking for a new band to explore, check out The Spirit of Radio: Greatest Hits (1974–1987) and/or my radio show (shameless plug), Rush Hour, named in honor of the band. This semester, the show runs from 6-8 p.m.on Monday nights and can be accessed by tuning in or on the PC WDOM 91.3 webpage.

by Isabelle Camoin ’26 on November 20, 2025

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A&E - Film & TV

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I have been eagerly anticipating writing this article celebrating the 60th anniversary of the iconic film, The Sound of Music (1965). The movie, which was released in the United States on March 2, 1965, was re-released in U.S. theaters Sept. 12–17, celebrating 60 years of the film and reviving its beauty in 4K. 

The film stars Julie Andrews as Maria and Christopher Plummer as Captain Georg von Trapp. Maria, a young nun at Nonberg Abbey, is filled with childlike wonder and spirit in a way that lacks the discipline the Abbey runs on. She is sent by Mother Abbess to be the governess for the seven children of retired naval officer, Captain von Trapp. The family is notoriously known for vanquishing governesses in attempts to seek attention from their cold, removed father. In the film, Maria, once arriving at the von Trapp residence, is at tense odds with Capt. von Trapp when she tries to introduce play and music into the children’s lives. Capt. von Trapp’s heart opens to his children and Maria when he bears witness to their musical gift, bringing joy and meaning back into the family’s lives. All while this is taking place, Nazi Germany is on the rise, and the annexation of Austria is a pervasive threat. The film depicts tensions between love of homeland amidst the rise of power.  As Maria makes decisions guided by God’s will, she is confronted with a choice between her religious calling to experience the love of God as a nun and finding God’s love in family. We see these tensions face resolution when Maria and Capt. von Trapp decide to marry and leave Austria before facing the consequences of their resistance to the Nazi regime. 

Performing at the Salzburg Music Festival in the last 20 minutes of the film, the von Trapp Family singers take to the stage, performing a moving final farewell to Austria. Concluding the performance with “Edelweiss,” a song composed for the musical, Capt. von Trapp bids his country farewell in a patriotic ode to its beauty.  

The film was based on the musical Rodgers and Hammerstein’s The Sound of Music, which was a fictional adaptation of the 1949 memoir, The Story of the von Trapp Singers, written by Maria Augusta von Trapp. The film is a dramatized version of the story of the formation of the von Trapp family. In the film, Maria von Trapp is depicted as a woman who restores love, meaning, and music back into the lives of widowed Georg von Trapp and his seven children. The film condenses the timeline of the family’s departure and rejection of the rise of the Nazi Party in Germany. The plot depicts an escape from Austria, meticulously planned through their performance at the Salzburg Music Festival, where the family of seven children, Maria von Trapp, and Georg von Trapp, flee to the Swiss Alps on foot to reject Georg von Trapp’s invitation to lead the Navy for the Nazi army. 

In reality, as written in Maria von Trapp’s memoir, the events occurred over a period of two years. The family performed at the Salzburg Music Festival in 1936 and left Austria by train to Italy in 1938, making their way to the U.S. on a performance tour. They traveled with their priest, Reverend Franz Wasner, as a family of nine with one on the way. Georg von Trapp refused to fly the Nazi flag on their property during the annexation of Austria in 1938, and additionally rejected Naval Command and the request to sing at Hitler’s Birthday party. 

The film details Maria von Trapp’s call to the von Trapp family to take care of the children because Georg von Trapp was emotionally unavailable to tend to them and was constantly away on business trips. Accounts in Maria von Trapp’s memoir depict that Georg von Trapp was much more gentle and kind-hearted from the start of her time with the family, and that originally she was brought to the family from The Abbey to take care of and tutor young Maria von Trapp, who had scarlet fever. This is when she began to engage with the already musically talented family, teaching the family to sing madrigals. Georg von Trapp fell in love with Maria von Trapp and asked her to marry him and become a second mother to his children. Maria von Trapp agreed to marry because she was in love with the children and liked Georg von Trapp, eventually coming to love him as well. In the movie, the love between Georg von Trapp and Maria von Trapp is accentuated in a way that differs from this account of Maria von Trapp’s experience. However, in both real life and the movie, Maria von Trapp was confronted with abandoning her religious calling of becoming a nun, but was advised “to do God’s will and marry Georg von Trapp.”

After 60 years, though distorted from the true story, the film is still worthy of celebrating. The film’s recognition by five Academy Awards, Golden Globe Awards, and selection by the Library of Congress as a film to preserve in the National Film Registry reinforces the value of celebrating the film’s timeless themes of love and strength in the arts and in faith. Upon its release, the film received a lot of criticism for being too artificial and corny, and many Austrians did not give the film the time of day. Even though the film dramatizes and romanticizes the depiction of Maria Augusta von Trapp’s involvement with the family, I enjoy the film’s production and composition. Andrews brings to life a playful spirit through music and meaningful engagement.

by Andrew Auclair ’29 on November 13, 2025

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A&E - Music

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Three (More) Cheers for Sweet Revenge

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge was the second studio album produced by the American rock band My Chemical Romance. Upon its release, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge achieved both critical and commercial success and was certified Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America within a year of its release. Within this album are an impressive variety of songs, from the witty and aggressive tunes “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” and “Thank You for the Venom,” to the haunting tones of the song “Ghost of You.” Personally, my introduction to MCR was through their other highly acclaimed studio album, The Black Parade. There is not much to be said about The Black Parade that hasn’t been said already; it’s a masterclass in terms of heavy concept rock albums. However, I feel that Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge is nowadays often overshadowed by the continuous popularity of The Black Parade, to the point that people are seriously missing out on a lot of great songs from Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge.

The album begins with the song “Helena,” an eerie and sad song attributed to lead singer Gerard Way and bassist Mikey Way’s late grandmother. This song is, believe it or not, one of MCR’s only actually “emo” songs, as the band tends not to appreciate fan-association with the “emo” genre. The lyrics deal with the loss of someone close to the band, and it creates a catchy, but tragic piece. My personal favorite song on the album, “Thank You for the Venom,” opens up with the nastiest electric guitar lick you have ever heard in your life, with the backing guitar reeling it all in for the vocals. It’s near impossible to listen to this song without wanting to headbang, with Ray Toro shredding the ever-loving life out of his guitar and Gerard Way’s chilling lyrical expertise. More notable songs include the vaguely Western vibes in “Hang ‘em High,” the upbeat  “The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You” with its beautiful segue out of “The Ghost of You,” and, of course, the powerful closing song “I Never Told You What I Do For a Living.” The production value on these songs is just incredible, and MCR as a whole doesn’t have a single song I find unlistenable, like many of my other favorite artists.

As a concept album, the band attempts to have consistent themes throughout the album, while also telling some form of story. According to Gerard Way, the story of the album was intended to follow a man and a woman, who are separated by death after a gunfight, going to Hell, only to find out that the woman is still alive. The man speaks to the Devil, who tells the man that he can be with her again unless the man brings him the souls of a thousand evil men. The man agrees to do it, and the Devil hands him a gun. However, in the final draft of the album, the record ended up being much more about loss and real life than anything, without trying to tell much of a specific story. The album that they released after this one stuck to a much more rigid storytelling flow, that being the incredible tragedy of The Black Parade. I think that this Album, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenage, actually does a great job with keeping its themes consistent, with most of the songs being about some form of death or social pressure, two high-interest points for a lot of teens especially at the dawn of the 21st century. 

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge impressively weaves early-2000s teenage angst with the sound of post-hardcore rock, creating a unique sound that, admittedly, isn’t for everyone. Many people whom I’ve tried to introduce to My Chemical Romance pass it off as cheesy, emo, and not real rock. To be fair, if I could critique MCR on one thing, it would be the somewhat juvenile tones their songs naturally produce with the heavy emphasis on deep adolescent frustration. It’s not necessarily a problem with me that sometimes their sound gives comical levels of  “ugh, I hate my life” vibes, and it is absolutely not a sound that was meant to be appealing to everyone. Other than that, in my eyes, My Chemical Romance and their album, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, prove that rock will never die. MCR recently released a deluxe version of this album back in June, and it refurbishes all of their old songs, implementing higher-quality audio and changing some small technical details. I think that Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, given more time, will go down along with The Black Parade as a cornerstone in the history of not just rock, but music as a whole.

by Ian Gualtiere ’27 on October 9, 2025

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A&E - Music

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When the Leaves Change, So Do the Playlists

What defines a summer of sounds? Flashy, jumpy pop songs that swoon over summer romances and beach getaways to anthemic rock pieces that pierce the current artist’s tours. But what hits the charts when the leaves begin to color, the air becomes crisp, and several layers have to cover the body? As the world begins to brace for a long winter’s nap, radio waves and streaming sites become dotted with songs that offer a reflective quality, a sense of twilight in the year, and a warm, intimate sensation to the listener’s moods. Fall music has a characteristic that immerses a listener in the “fall vibe,” where music slips into an acoustic and quieter form, as opposed to the sunny, hard-hitting, and loud songs of summer. What makes fall music so special to those who avidly partake in it is that it is a full endeavor filled with compilation playlists with no boundaries and no rules; there is no defined term for what makes fall music. The sounds are in the ears and minds of the beholder, wishing to parallel the moods of the changing landscapes into music. 

An example of a “gateway” artist into the world of autumnal music would be Neil Young, not in the sense of his proto-grunge sounds or anti-establishment lyrics, but in his sweet-sounding love songs that ripple through his discography, offering a sense of peaceful reflection as the year draws to a close. One natural notion that fall has arrived is the presence of the harvest moon, which appears in the night sky every mid-September or early October. What better way to celebrate the close of summer than with Young’s own 1992 song “Harvest Moon?” A soft-sung, richly tuned, and prolonged love song that strikes at every listener’s heart, signaling a mood shift for the year. Or look no further than his famous 1972 album Harvest, which not only brings in a fragile sound and sense of isolation but also lays the groundwork for other indie artists to explore the nature of themselves as we take to the insides of our homes and our minds when autumn arrives. 

The artists that bring a broken, almost somber feature to their music are sometimes where people tend to gravitate towards in searching for fall music. Artists like Elliot Smith, Nick Drake, Phoebe Bridgers, Jeff Buckley, and Radiohead tend to attract those longing for quiet and sometimes downright sad music. Though these artists are critically renowned and have large fan bases, they could also lead listeners into more moody yet hopeful spirits when looking back on the year. Thoughts flow through the lyrics of intimate relationships, bright futures, and the riveting beauty of the changing nature of the world. 

Fall music does not necessarily equate to quiet sounds, again sticking with this prolonged theme of the listener being able to interpret the music in their own sense. It allows the addition of extremely famous pop stars who could sometimes not be recognized for the reflective and brooding quality of their songs. Or English rock bands like Arctic Monkeys with “Mardy Bum,” The Kinks with “Waterloo Sunset,” and even The Beatles with “Here, There and Everywhere” and “Dear Prudence” bring a jamming and loving but sullen sound that creates a rich addition to anyone’s definition of what fall music truly is. 

The beginning of fall brings a feeling of change, whether for good or for worse, natural or emotional, even warm or cold, the days begin to fluctuate in mood. Fall music is the attempt to characterize these feelings into sound; it is your sound, your attitudes, and the feeling you get when you see the first hint of yellow leaves on the trees.

by Thomas Marinelli ’26 on October 2, 2025

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A&E - Music

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It’s 1976. Strung out from being on the road and countless days in the studio recording their latest album, Hotel California, the Eagles were nothing short of burnt out. Hotel California became one of the most popular albums of all time, going on to sell 32 million records worldwide and cementing the band as one of the best of the decade, commercially and artistically. The Eagles never intended to be like most bands, and their lyrics matched their image. Hotel California was not meant to be about living the American dream; it was actually quite the opposite. Even for successful musicians, the picture-perfect reality connoted by the album title was far from what most people had in mind. America was heading into a society of excess in the late 1970s, and it was seeping into the music industry and Hollywood. Soon, music would no longer be about spreading a message of anti-conformity and following dreams, but rather about pursuing materialistic desires and whatever sold best. Knowing this, knowing that it would be hard to follow up their previous album, and with tensions rising by the minute in the band, the Eagles prepared their next release. It would take nearly three years before they put out The Long Run in 1979, a chapter closer to a decade riddled with tensions following Vietnam, Watergate, Hollywood’s rise, and rock’s slow death. All of this was captured in the album, which also marked the end of the Eagles for the time being.

Through 1977 and 1978, the band’s two leaders were at odds. Don Henley, the drummer and vocalist, and Glenn Frey, the guitarist and singer, were constantly clashing over creative differences. Coupled with a new member, Timothy B. Schmit, the presence of ongoing member Joe Walsh, and heavy drug use, the band seemed doomed to remain stagnant in popularity. Punk was on the horizon, and the disco craze was in full effect; rock was starting to show its age, and the California dream was dying. The Eagles had profited greatly as a Los Angeles band with a country-rock feel, but in this changing atmosphere, they had to adjust somehow.

In a way, the Eagles did what they did best: they told stories. The first song on the album, “The Long Run,” is an instant classic, and its message spoke volumes. It’s a song about uncertainty, but played upbeat—addressing fame, the struggle to keep the band alive, or perhaps rock itself. It’s something easier said than done, destined to fade over time. The second song, “I Can’t Tell You Why,” which brought more of a yacht-rock feel to the record, is about a struggling relationship that carries on without knowing how, or if, it can end—sensing a theme. Another track, “Heartache Tonight,” is more celebratory and upbeat, an instant single hit, though it’s about the inevitable end of another relationship. The final song, “The Sad Café,” reflects on the band’s early glory days, now gone with time, almost a final word before shutting down for good.

The album went on to sell over eight million copies—nowhere near the success of Hotel California, but that was expected. By 1980, the band had broken up, nearly ending in a fight on stage between Frey and Don Felder, the band’s guitarist. It was not the glamorous end one might expect, but how many endings are? It was the end of an era, reached by a rough road, but it did something music today rarely does: it didn’t hide anything. Not the way the band felt toward each other, the industry, or the direction of rock. It was disillusionment, fatigue, and nostalgia—but it was all true, and it was all out in the open.

There will always be times at the end of any chapter when one gets burnt out, frustrated, and feels like running away or starting over. But that comes with acceptance—acceptance that it’s okay to feel like that, to let others know, but never to give up. It would be a disservice not to leave everything on the field, even when you think you can’t take it anymore. The Eagles knew it was over, but they also knew there was one last run in them before they could walk away and start something new.