Juba for string quartet honors the lives and contributions of African and African American forced laborers who cultivated various crops during slavery. The work makes a musical journey from Africa to the United States through traditional African music and traditional African American folk music: fiddle music, long-meter hymns and Gullah music. Juba celebrates the musical, economic, industrial, and cultural contributions by African Americans to the United States.

For string quartet (+/- vocal quartet) using voice and body percussion 

I must have been in 1st grade or Kindergarten

when some kid said the “N” word in front of me

and I didn’t know what it meant but I wanted to find out

It kept rolling around in my head

What is it? A name? Is it a good name?

I said it out loud at home, and remember my Dad looked sad.


I must have been in 4th grade

when we had to take the Missouri Assessment Program (MAP) test

and to tell the state how smart we were

We also had to tell them what race we were

“Select One Answer” but I needed two bubbles to be honest

I asked my teacher “why can’t I fill in ‘black’ and ‘white’”

And she said “just fill in black”

and she looked sad.


In high school, I was on the swim team

My brother was on the swim team

We were both really good. We were both Varsity champions and captains.

Someone said, “I didn’t even know black people could swim”

another said, “well, you’re only good athletes because you’re black.”

I was sad.


I went to college, and was the only mixed student in the music department.

-Another time being One of The Only and this never has seemed to change even now

I played saxophone in all of the top ensembles- I was first chair bari sax in every group we had.

I earned that.

A guy I knew made black jokes all the time.

“you’re so white though”

“haha it’s just because you’re black though isn’t it?”

I slapped him across the face at a party once. Hard. I wasn’t even drinking

I was just so mad.

So mad.


I live in New York City now.

You can be whoever you want

You can be nobody

The anonymity of solitude

The fame of individuality

I love it.

Every day I’m myself.

Just a drop of creamy coffee

in the pantone of people here

I am comfortable. I am happier.


But, I read the news

I read what the things people I went to high school with are posting

And how “all lives matter” though so why are you complaining

And “well, he shoulda just listened to the cop and that wouldn’t have happened”

And needing to build a wall

And needing to take back our country

And needing to keep our guns

And needing to build up our police force

And needing to these thugs


I cry a lot when I read the news

So much hurting

Because of the bubble they’re asked to fill out on an exam form

Because someone forgot to use a turn signal

Because they “fit the description”

I can’t breathe.

I am sad.


I am black, I am white. I am both. I get to be both. I can choose. I could choose.

But who cares?

What does my mask entitle me to?

I’ve been followed around a store before

I got a DWB (driving while black) in summer once when I was really tan

A coworker said the “N” word a bunch around me but “oh, well I thought she was Mexican”

I was accused of “using the race card”

My opinions have been scrutinized

It matters to me what I feel

But it doesn’t matter- does the 1 drop rule still apply?

Some days I’d rather be totally accepted by one community and shunned by the other

instead of only partially accepted by both

not dark enough to shout it from the rooftops but not white enough to be alright either so

just another day being One of The Only


America is a big place.

A lot of people live in it.

Some people understand everyone’s pain

And some people want “the good old days” back.

We should be able to choose individually

Who we wanna be/what we want to do/how we get to live

But as of late we haven’t been able to, and it gets summarized in the headlines:

Rich White Dude Raped a Woman and Went to Jail for like 20 Seconds

Poor Black Kid was Killed for No Real Reason.

Was killed.


So what do we have to say for ourselves, hm?

What do you have to say for yourself?

What do we even say?

“liking” and hash-tagging have helped some so far

I don’t even know if God is listening – white jesus maybe but

We keep saying all these things over and over

But what’s the use? What’s the truth?

Dead horse is done beat to death more and here we are kicking away at it

so what do we do? What can we say?

So what do you have to say for yourself?

What do I have to say for myself?

What do we even say?

Say it

Say it

Say it

Judee Sill was an American singer-songwriter of the 1970s whose difficult life was cut short early in her career. As a composer and singer-songwriter myself, I was inspired to write this piece for The Overlook after discovering her through a New York Times "Overlooked No More" obituary. The title of my composition, "I Laughed So Hard I Cried," is taken from the final verse of Judee Sill's song "The Lamb Ran Away with the Crown." It was by drawing from this song's lyrics, vocal melody, chords, and canon-like ending that I developed the framework of my piece. Throughout, I sought to maintain a simple and honest musical language that honors the poetic vulnerability and pathos so beautifully conveyed in Judee Sill's music.

Written for the Brentano String Quartet. Dedicated to Michael. 



This four-movement piece with a cadenza, illuminates the viola as a soloist in contrast and in conjunction with the quartet and encompasses spectral and microtonal elements (i.e. crazy tunings are intentional).

I went to see the Brentano String Quartet play in New Zealand on the invitation of Euan Murdoch, head of Chamber Music NZ. I was delighted to be able to meet the performers after the show, who kindly told me how I was going to love my upcoming time in Princeton for my composition PhD. Misha Amory, the viola player, said to me: "If the stars align, you will write for us." When I arrived at Princeton, the due date of 12/12/12 was also my birthday, so this piece took on some cosmic proportions to do with the numbers 12 (which is 3 in numerology) and 4, which is connected to the date. On rhythm: although I am a kiwi, my father is from Ghana and I added some Ghanaian highlife themes and polyrhythms; also playing on the 3 against 4 theme. Moreover, due to all of this stellar activity, I decided to make the viola the protagonist amongst the 4 players, contrasting, colliding and coming together with the other three players...

Dedicated to Jesse Redmon Fauset 
Crossing was conceived as a representation of waves and probabilities. Those waves interact with each other, intersecting as sound does, and as we do in the world. Around the time that I wrote the piece, I also made a painting with the same title. The painting was primarily composed of a limited set of gestures. The painting more readily proposes another meaning — a border. The tension between borders and crossing them, sight and sound, and between different forms of observation and understanding presented themselves to me within this piece. In certain ways, the painting Crossing, symbolized the challenges and problems of living in a world with borders. The string quartet Crossing, showed me the possibilities of cooperation and comity.

Warmth from Other Suns is a terrifying expression of the duality of wanting to find rest, yet never being able to call a place home. This musical journey is based off of the thrilling book, The Warmth of Other Suns by Pulitzer Prize novelist, Isabel Wilkerson. Wilkerson’s book describes the Great Migration where many African Americans fled from southern states which were filled with the hot stench of Jim Crow. The Great Migration would take them to a new part of America where the promise of more economic opportunity hung before them with wavering uncertainty. The author centers the story around three main characters. My aim was to embody the feelings of the main characters and express their spirit musically. Program note by Leah Claiborne. Initially commissioned by the Sphinx Organization, Vermont Symphony, and the Red Shoe Company.