The Sounds of Sunrise


Sunrise. It’s beautiful. Or so I’m told. I am *not* a morning person and can count the number of sunrises I’ve actually seen on my two hands and still have a finger left over to tap the snooze button on my alarm clock.

Many composers have also been inspired by sunrises. In fact, some of the most beautiful and exciting music out there depicts sunrise. Here are a few of my favorites.

1. Haydn – He took a couple of different cracks at sunrise, including the first-ever sunrise–that is, the creation of light in his oratorio The Creation. Haydn also gave us a symphony and a string quartet called “Sunrise.”

2. Richard Strauss – There’s the very famous one from Also Sprach Zarathustra (aka that music from 2001: A Space Odyssey), but Strauss also gave us a stunning musical depiction of sunrise in his Alpine Symphony.

3. Grofé: Grand Canyon Suite – From an alp to a giant hole in the ground. On the Trail is the most famous movement of Grofé’s most famous work what with the clip-clop and braying of the mules as they descend to the floor of the canyon, but earlier in the piece, Grofé gives us a vivid technicolor sunrise.

4. Ravel: Daphnis and Chloe – This one is probably my favorite. No real explanation needed. In my opinion, this is the best recording out there. But then, I’m a sucker for when the percussionist whacks the suspended cymbal as hard as possible.

5. Schoenberg: Gurrelieder – This is Arnold Schoenberg before he shook off the influence of post-romanticism and forged his own path. The entire cantata is wonderful and worth checking out, if you’ve never heard it. The last five minutes begin with a sunrise.

6. Peter Maxwell Davies: An Orkney Wedding With Sunrise – Care for some bagpipes with your sunrise? This one is a lot of fun! It starts with a wedding and then moves to the reception with plenty of drinking and dancing. The party continues all through the night until the sun comes up in the morning. The score actually calls for the bagpiper to come in at the back of the concert hall and walk down the aisle toward the stage.

Now that the sun’s up…about that coffee…

Kicking Brass: An Interview with the LA Phil’s Andrew Bain and Thomas Hooten

Thomas Hooten and Andrew Bain. Photo by CD Dexter Haven,

Thomas Hooten and Andrew Bain. Photo by CK Dexter Haven,

This week’s LA Philharmonic radio broadcast on Classical KUSC features two concerto performances by two LA Phil brass principals. Thomas Hooten, principal trumpet, will play Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto in E-flat. Andrew Bain, principal French horn, will play Mozart’s Horn Concerto No. 4. Before the performance, which was recorded in February 2015, I sat down with Hooten and Bain backstage at Walt Disney Concert Hall to ask them about life in the LA Phil and their upcoming solo appearances with the orchestra.

I began by asking them each what they liked best about each other’s playing.

Andrew Bain: One of the great things about Tom—I mean, he plays with a beautiful sound and is incredibly musical—but his attention to detail and his constant desire to get the best result out of any sort of situation is really inspiring. It inspires me and it inspires the colleagues around him and definitely his section. I think it’s a really great part of his personality and a great trait. We aspire to that level as well.

Thomas Hooten: The first thing that comes to mind about Andrew’s playing is, I always get this sense that he’s in the moment of the music. He’s not in any rush. He seems really concerned about making the phrase as good as it can be. And I think that, for me—in relation to what he said about me—I’m always striving and driving to do the best I can, but it’s a nice reminder when I hear him play to take time, to make sure that you’re in the moment. And I think that’s really important for the listener. You can tell when Andrew comes in, in the orchestra we get this sense of, I wouldn’t say calm, but of breath. And it’s nice.

BL: How important is camaraderie and chemistry among the principals in the brass section?

Andrew Bain: That’s a good question, actually. I think a good, cohesive working environment is really important. And if people are friends outside of that, than that’s an extra advantage. But, I think more important is that people are striving for the same goals and that we’re working together to achieve a really great result. And I think we’re very fortunate that we have that. I think we have that in the entire brass and horn section. Everyone’s really wanting to see the growth of the section as we add new people. With the influx of new principals, that can be a challenging change for members of sections and for the rest of the orchestra, but everyone is definitely invested in getting the best result that we can.

Thomas Hooten: I would say, throughout orchestras in the country, there’s a wide variety of high artistic product and varying degrees of camaraderie. I would think, in the most logical outlook of it, that the more you get along, the more potential there is for greatness. I think orchestras are really good at hiring the best people—we have a process in place that makes sure there’s lots of vetting out—but, the potential after that of somebody actually learning to communicate with others in a way that inspires each other and also is a conduit for discovery: I think we have that here [at the LA Phil]. Through this process of us acquiring new people, I think that’s something that we’re looking for. Looking for new people that not only play great, but become citizens of the orchestra and what we want to do together.

BL: You guys both make your living at the back of the orchestra. What’s it like to take a turn up front in the soloist’s spotlight?

Thomas Hooten: I remember the first time I played a solo with a professional group—it was with the United States Marine Band—and we played From the Shores of the Mighty Pacific, by Herbert L. Clarke. The band started and I just remember jumping out of my skin because I hadn’t been at the very front of a group and heard that much sound, and I’ll never forget how juiced I was: “Wow, this is going to be amazing!” So [with the LA Phil] I’m looking forward to that and getting really close to the violins and hearing all the energy from them.

Andrew Bain: For the horn player it’s really fun, because we’re always at the back. To be up at the front and to actually be able to see the faces of the audience—that’s fun. And to see them when you empty the little bit of water, to see the look of panic and to feel the violins move back three paces when you play the first note, because the horn is loud, and it points backwards so they end up in the slipstream a little bit. It’s a lot of fun.

Photo by CD Dexter Haven,

Photo by CK Dexter Haven,

BL: Tom, the Trumpet Concerto by Joseph Haydn that you’re playing with the LA Phil…as I understand it, this was a piece that was designed to show off a bit of trumpet valve technology, is that correct?

Thomas Hooten: Almost right. The trumpet it was written for was a keyed trumpet, so it was very close to when they developed valves. That’s one of the interesting parts about this piece: when it was written, this keyed trumpet was a new invention. The horn didn’t actually sound that good. It was basically like a natural trumpet that had keys in it that would help certain pitches come out, which is why you can play half-steps and more partials in the lower harmonic series. This piece was written in 1796 and wasn’t premiered until 1800 and then wasn’t played again for, like, a hundred years. … I think probably why it didn’t get played that much was because it just wasn’t that good of a sound yet. But the subtleties of half-steps and stuff are absolutely interwoven into the piece itself and, in that respect, it’s a pioneering piece for the history of the trumpet.

Markus Würsch playing the keyed trumpet.

Markus Würsch playing the keyed trumpet.

BL: Thinking about that idea: even if it didn’t sound great on that instrument [the keyed trumpet], these are sounds, musically, that people weren’t used to hearing from a trumpet either. So, the concerto was super-new, modern music in its time.

Thomas Hooten: Right. The first notes of the concerto show you, “I can play an E-flat scale now.” And people probably said, “Wow, that’s amazing! This is so exciting!” Haydn has these whole themes throughout where the trumpet is going from a note in the harmonic series and then a half-step away. So, the significance of that, hopefully, isn’t lost on the audience. … The other thing I’m excited about is I commissioned a new cadenza for this concerto, written by James Stephenson, a composer who has been incredibly prolific in the last 10 years for brass in general. So, I’m excited about that. It’s a really fun cadenza: pushes the limits of what I can do. I’m excited about offering a new addition to Haydn cadenzas and hopefully people will like it and trumpet players will try it and not curse me for making it hard. [laughs]

BL: Andrew, the Mozart Horn Concerto No. 4 that you’re performing has an interesting story behind it as well. Who was this cheese shop-owning, French horn-playing Leutgeb guy anyway?

Andrew Bain: Leutgeb and Mozart had this banter-ful relationship, so Mozart tended to write a lot of [messages to Leutgeb] in the score—mostly abusive to poor Leutgeb. [laughs] Basically, the Mozart horn concerti are very fun, playful pieces. The fourth concerto is, in many ways, the deepest musically. It’s just an incredibly fun, happy piece. The slow movement is incredibly beautiful and has lots of lovely lyrical lines. But, yeah, Mozart just found this cheese monger guy that could play the horn and he wrote some pieces and that’s what it is. It’s not incredibly deep, serious music, but it’s incredibly beautiful and very much the essence of Mozart’s writing.

BL: Mozart seemed to always know what worked for a specific instrument. He obviously didn’t play the French horn, but does it sit nicely? Does it fit well?

Andrew Bain: Yeah, absolutely. It’s written in the key of E-flat [major], which always at the first rehearsal, at least half a dozen of the violinists will come up and say, “Ugh, E-flat?!” Because E-flat for the strings isn’t the most comfortable key. But for the horn it sits beautifully. In terms of the register, it actually works very well for the instrument. On the modern horn, it works very well because the fingering combinations actually work very well. On the natural horn, of course, you don’t have to worry about that, but it actually lies very well on the instrument. There are many ways you can play it. As the horn has evolved, the piece seems to for any sort of combination of generation of instruments that we use.

BL: And you use a modern horn?

Andrew Bain: Yeah. A modern double horn with three valves and a thumb valve. Blow in the small end and hope that it works! [laughs]

Photo by Gennia Cui via

Photo by Gennia Cui via

BL: Back to the orchestra…who is sitting in the hotter seat? Principal trumpet or principal French horn?

Thomas Hooten: I think it depends on the week. In all honesty, some of the things that Andrew has to do: the delicateness and going between being on top of the horn section and an incredibly loud brass section to literally seconds later blending with the woodwind section in the most delicate transparent [music]. That’s pretty scary. That being said, sometimes the trumpet seat can be just as scary. But, I look at his job and I think you got to have nerves of steel to be able to navigate that. That’s one of the things I really admire about Andrew is that he really goes between those roles in a beautiful way. Not in an ego-driven way, but really what serves the music best. So, I don’t know. I’m not going to say. Except maybe him. [laughs]

Andrew Bain: [laughing] I mean, I wouldn’t want to play the [trumpet solo in the] opening of Mahler 5. That’s some scary stuff.

Thomas Hooten: Especially since you don’t sound good on trumpet.

Andrew Bain: Yeah, I know! And Tom has actually heard me play the beginning of Mahler 5 on the trumpet, so he can categorically state how bad that sounds.

Thomas Hooten: Was that on a horn mouthpiece or was that a trumpet mouthpiece? I can’t remember.

Andrew Bain: It was actually a trumpet mouthpiece, but the thing is, I actually played it on a rotary trumpet, but it sounded like a piston trumpet. [laughs] I have a unique gift when it comes to trumpet playing. … It’s so difficult to compare [the principal horn and principal trumpet seats]. I mean, I like my job because of the flexibility and because I get to play a lot of the stuff with the winds and with the brass and with the strings. And it’s good fun to be adjusting to whatever’s going on in the orchestra. But I certainly think, there are moments when the trumpet is sitting on top of the orchestra and if things don’t sound how they’re supposed to sound, 2,300 people are going to find out about it. [laughs] And that, in itself, is exciting as well. This is where I think you need a special character and a special personality to be a principal trumpet player. You need to want to have that moment. We’re very fortunate that we have Tom because he loves that role and it really suits him and he sounds fantastic. So, they’re different roles and they’ve got their different scary and rewarding parts and I think you could probably say that about several other positions in the orchestra too.

GUEST POST: Vijay Gupta on the True Power of Music to Change Lives

The following is the Commencement Address to the Class of 2015 at the Colburn Conservatory of Music, given recently by LA Philharmonic violinist and Street Symphony founder Vijay Gupta. My thanks to Vijay for allowing me to share this inspiring speech here in this forum. -Brian



Earlier this week, I was on the 10 freeway in my Prius, and scanning the radio. I landed on the KPFK annual spring pledge drive. The announcer said “May is here! It’s time to raise money for public radio!!” What do you think the music was? “Dah da da da dada deee…dada da da da dada dee”—-oh my god, really? Again?

And when we think of Vivaldi, we hear music suited for the pledge drives of any season, but we don’t think of who he was – who he actually was. Vivaldi was a priest. He had a shock of red hair. He was rumored to have been born on the day of a massive earthquake in Venice. His mother was so grateful they survived that she immediately committed her baby Antonio to the priesthood. When he was ordained 25 years later, he was nicknamed, Il Prete Rosso: The Red Priest – a virtuoso violinist.

Vivaldi became legendary in his time. Even Bach stole his concertos. But in his lifetime, Vivaldi’s concertos weren’t played in a concert hall, or even in the courts of Vienna or the Esterhazy, like Mozart and Haydn. No, Vivaldi’s venue was an orphanage. A place called L’Ospedale della Pieta, where abandoned infants could be left at a tiny window called a ‘scaffetta’. When they were old enough, these orphans were handed an instrument and taught to play by Maestro Vivaldi. At 15, the boys had to leave to learn a trade, but the girls stayed.

So imagine: Vivaldi’s orchestra, the group that premiered pieces like the Four Seasons, which end up on public radio 300 years later, were mostly orphaned, abandoned teenage girls. They became some of the most celebrated musicians of their time.


300 years ago, at the beginning of the 18th century, something else was happening here, on this coast. Spanish missionaries had completed their journey across the American Plains. They stopped about 18 miles from the Pacific Ocean, and they began building missions along the coast of California.

And in the center of the city that they named after the Queen of the Angels, La Reina de Los Angeles, they named a street after the patron saint of wanderers, as they themselves had been wanderers across the continent. The legend of San Julian is similar to the story of Oedipus. Julian was born with a prophecy that he would one day murder his parents. And indeed, in an accident he did kill his parents, but he was cast out of society, forced to sleep on many a hard bed, and bear many scornful words from passersby.

Julian built a shelter on the side of a highway, giving the warmth of his home and hearth to anyone, without discrimination. One day, while fishing in the dead of winter, Julian saw a man drowning at the far end of the icy cold lake. As he rowed over, he could see that this man was severely deformed, covered in unsightly boils – he was a leper. He was a person society said was untouchable and unworthy, but Julian dragged him out, brought him back to his shelter.

Julian stoked his fire and fed this man every last scrap of food he had. And then, because the leper was hypothermic and shivering to death, Julian took off his own coat and literally embraced the man, and held him. They fell asleep that way, and in the morning, the leper had disappeared – replaced by the angel – who blessed Julian.

San Julian is the patron saint of travelers and people who build shelters. Also, strangely enough, of fiddlers. If ever Vivaldi were to have a patron Saint, I think it just might have been San Julian.


San Julian St. is a real place in Los Angeles. We could walk there from here. San Julian Street is Skid Row. It’s the epicenter of the homeless capital of the United States. Tonight, more than 10,000 people will sleep on a hard bed in the 50 square block area of downtown Los Angeles. 80,000 people in Southern California experience chronic homelessness. An overwhelming majority of homeless people are diagnosed with some form of mental illness.

On Skid Row and beyond, people experiencing mental illnesses often find themselves trapped in the revolving door of mass incarceration – as the de facto treatment of mental illness in the United States is incarceration. It’s no surprise that Twin Towers Jail, also walking distance from here, is effectively the country’s largest psychiatric institution.

But Skid Row is also a place of hope – it is truly the home of the modern day San Julians. The people living and working on Skid Row are some of the most courageous and warm people I have ever met. The people we call the ‘poorest’ are actually the most generous. I’ve found that some of my greatest and most humbling teachers are people whose homes might just be a chunk of sidewalk on San Julian Street, or a jail cell at Twin Towers.

Now the point of this story is not that you find a homeless man on the street, give him your coat, give a hug, and then take him home. The point is that if Vivaldi were making music today, he wouldn’t be at Zipper Hall or Walt Disney Concert Hall. You’d probably find him somewhere on Skid Row.

A few years ago I wanted to bring music to Skid Row. I reached out to heads of shelters and clinics all over LA. I would even go and personally play for them in their offices. No one returned phone calls, and it wasn’t because I played badly.

And then I went to Skid Row – to the mental health clinic on Maple Avenue – and I played. It was the social workers, many of whom had personally experienced the life of homelessness, addiction and despair – it was these social workers who reached into their pockets to pull out crumpled 5 and 10 dollar bills to pay for sandwiches and cookies and Sprites so that their homeless, mentally ill patients could attend our concerts in the basement conference room of the clinic. 170 concerts ago, that’s where we started Street Symphony.

Robert Schumann said, “To send light into the darkness of humanity’s heart – such is the duty of the artist.” At the beginning of Street Symphony, I thought we were bringing the light of music to people who could never come to the concert hall. We were bringing light into dark places. About a year ago, we played the first of Schumann’s Opus 41 quartets at the mentally ill ward at Twin Towers jail for 25 men in jumpsuits.

street symphony

Before we performed the slow movement, the cornerstone of the work, I had us play through just 8 bars. And in these 8 bars, the first violin and cello hold these whole notes in unison – these unmoving pillars of harmony. And the 2nd violin and viola play these 16th note slurred phrases back and forth that strain against the harmony, that try to escape into some happy place, to escape into release and relief, but each time, they are utterly trapped, stonewalled.

To me, this was Schumann’s pain and anguish. This was him losing his mind. And when I said that to the inmates, one of the men said to me, “Man, that’s the way I feel most days”. And I said, without even thinking, I genuinely responded, “Man, some days I guess I feel like that, too…” I caught myself. Because as performers, we weren’t allowed to go there. Did I really mean that?

I did. Some days I felt like that, too. I looked at my colleagues and they nodded. Some of them felt like that some days, too.

We weren’t just bringing light into dark places in our society. We were illuminating the dark places inside our own hearts. We were creating a space where it was ok to feel, to transcend and be transformed – not just for our audience, but for ourselves. And maybe even for the sheriffs and deputies. For the judge. Music, capital-M Music, wasn’t happening because we played perfectly. Music happened when we could embrace the most fragile and vulnerable parts of ourselves.

When we ostracize and criminalize the most fragile and vulnerable members of our society, we do it because we have pushed away the most fragile and vulnerable parts of ourselves. But if we can embrace the part of us that we shun – the deformed, leprosied parts of ourselves – we connect with what matters the most. We connect to our deepest values, and we give ourselves the permission to be authentic. To say what we really feel. To play how we really feel. Maybe even to truly understand what the composer was feeling.

Pablo Casals said, “I am a human being first, a musician second, a cellist third.”


When we connect with the part of us that is most authentic, we discover the seed of our creative spirit. This is the vulnerable place that the great composers write from: Vivaldi, as the shepherd mourning the brutal destruction of his crops in a summer storm; Brahms, walking alone in the woods; Mozart, in every slow movement, mourning the loss of his mother and sister; Schumann, grappling with schizophrenia, eventually dying in an asylum, trapped in the prison of his own mind.

We play this music because these stories are our stories. These are the stories of our world. They belong to everyone. Not just the people who can come to our concert halls.

We walk into a world wracked with pain and turmoil. There are stories happening right now – in Baltimore, in New York, in Cleveland, in Ferguson, Missouri – these are our stories, too.There are stories in Los Angeles. There are tens of thousands of stories who will sleep on Skid Row, or a jail cell tonight. It’s our job to listen. It’s our job to receive and embrace those stories. People are not going to listen to us because of how perfectly we think we play or how many hours we spend alone in a practice room. They listen because we have something to say.

So I say to you, class of 2015 – bring it. The world can’t wait to hear what you have to say.

Thank you for this tremendous honor.

The KUSC Classical Top 100 Analyzed


Well, the KUSC Classical Top 100 has been fully revealed and with it, some predictable results…and more than a few surprises as well.

To recap, we asked KUSC listeners to vote on their favorite pieces of classical music and then we counted down the top 100 vote-getters on the air. You can view the entire list here. Before I get to what surprised me the most about the results, here are a few things that did not shock me at all. Continue reading

11 Conductors Who Are Doing Something Else While Conducting

1. Herbert von Karajan grumpily churning the butter.

Karajan Churning Butter


2. Valery Gergiev mostly likely suffering from food poisoning.

Gergiev Has Food Poisoning


3a. Gustavo Dudamel suddenly noticing there’s a scorpion on his hand.

Dudamel Scorpion

3b. Gustavo Dudamel touches a hot stove and refuses to learn that he will get burned.

Dudamel Hot Stove


4. Pierre Boulez brings you the glass of wine you ordered which he totally disapproves of.

Boulez as a Waiter


5. Otto Klemperer does not want anyone disturbing his nap. Even Beethoven.

Klemperer Falling Asleep


6a. Esa-Pekka Salonen surfing while high, dude.

Salonen Surfing High

6b. Esa-Pekka Salonen is an angry Atlanta Braves fan.

Salonen Tomahawk Chop


7. Carlos Kleiber casually pulling a tiny baby out of his pocket.

Kleiber Baby Pocket


8a. Sir Simon Rattle: sex machine.

Rattle Watching

8b. Sir Simon Rattle reenacting a few tricks from his Vegas magic show.

Rattle Magic Tricks


9. Charles Munch talking to himself and not caring what you think.

Munch Talks to Himself


10a. Leonard Bernstein trying and failing to keep his heart from exploding.

Bernstein Ectsasy


10b. Leonard Bernstein looking like someone who’s really happy about stabbing his wife.

Bernstein Stabbing


11. Stanisław Skrowaczewski is genuinely moved by the music.

Skrowaczewski is Moved

Composer Emojis

Because no one has done this yet…at least not that I have found.

😇 Bach – soli deo gloria
👂 Beethoven – say what?
😲 Berlioz – currently hallucinating
😴 Brahms – go to sleep
⏳ Cage – time matters
🗽 Copland – the Dean
🌜 Debussy – ask Clair
🚂 Dvorak – he really liked trains
🎓 Elgar – these circumstances call for pomp
🔪 Gesualdo – stabbiest composer ever
😑🔢 Glass – count on Einstein
🚀🔭👽 Holst – is there life on Uranus?
😎 Liszt – too cool for school
🏊🔨 Mahler – hammertime, also he liked to swim
😏 Mozart – get it?
👻🎃 Mussorgsky – his mountain was bald
😮 Puccini – sing it loud so i can hear you. then die, soprano, die.
😍 Rachmaninoff – helping people get it on since 1887
🚑 Ravel – impressions of a wwi ambulance driver
🔁 Reich – rinse and repeat
🐝Rimsky-Korsakov – orchestrates like a butterfly…
🐓🐴🐢🐘🐟🐠🐚🐇🐰🎹 Saint-Saëns – most sophisticated carny ever
🎨 Scriabin – sounds like blue
😬 Shostakovich – KGB, 123
👤 Shostakovich – you won’t see me
❄️⛄️ Sibelius – ice, ice baby
💃 Strauss, Jr. – so you think you can dance
😤 Richard Strauss – i can be your hero, baby
😱 Stravinsky – shocking & awesome
😭 Tchaikovsky – cry me a river
😌 Vaughan Williams – in the pensive country
👹 Vivaldi – the red devil
💐🌴🍂❄️ Vivaldi – clearly, not from SoCal
😈 Wagner – a very naughty boy
👑 Walton – 2 crownz 2 marches
🎬 John Williams – the force is strong with this one
Okay…who’d I miss? Which ones did I get wrong?

Mozart at the Bat


With opening week of the new baseball season upon us, I was thinking about the various songs the players choose for their walk-up music as they head up to bat. It’s totally their choice and the picks range from something with a good thumping bass to get the adrenaline flowing to music of menace and intimidation for opposing pitchers. Chipper Jones always used Crazy Train, by Ozzy Osbourne; Yasiel Puig prefers Turn Down For What, by DJ Snake and Lil Jon; while Nick Punto let his daughter pick his walk-up music. Her choice? Shake it Off, by Taylor Swift, of course.

It’s not just batters who get to choose entrance music: two of the best closing pitchers in MLB history chose “lights out” music as they entered from the bullpen. Trevor Hoffman always entered to AC/DC’s Hells Bells, and Mariano Rivera actually earned his nickname from his theme song: Metallica’s Enter the Sandman. Both are awesome tunes to intimidate visiting batters while their opponent’s most dominant pitcher warms up.

As far as I know, only once has a Major League Baseball player opted for a classical tune as his walk-up music. That’s Prince Fielder, who uses the Rex tremendae section of Mozart’s Requiem as he strides to the plate. But that got me thinking (and talking to my KUSC colleagues) about what would make the best classical walk-up music. Below are nine possibilities–a full lineup’s worth, which I’d be happy to recommend to any MLB team if they’d like to do a classical music promotion night.

1. Carl Orff – “O Fortuna” from Carmina Burana: A classic to lead off, with the added bonus of familiarity.

2. Igor Stravinsky – “Infernal Dance,” from The Firebird: Again with the intimidation factor here. This has the added benefit of probably causing many in the stands to jump in surprise after the first chord.

3. Johannes Brahms – opening of Symphony No. 1: Some nice, solid power here from a composer who also hits for average and makes every at-bat count. Exactly what you want for your #3 hitter.

4. Hector Berlioz – “Tuba mirum,” from Requiem: In baseball, you save your power-hitters for the cleanup spot in the batting order. This is cleanup music. (Suggested by Alan Chapman.)

5. Béla Bartók – opening of Miraculous Mandarin Suite: Whoever bats behind your cleanup hitter better be a decently scary presence at the plate. #5 protects #4, after all. Suggested by Gail Eichenthal, here we have music with what she calls “fear factor.”

6. John Adams: opening of Harmonielehre: Quite simply, one of the most badass pieces in all of classical music. Perfect for a hitter wanting to get the adrenaline pumping.

7. Hector Berlioz – “March to the Scaffold,” from Symphonie fantastique: When I asked Jim Svejda for his walk-up music pick, he suggested this piece, emphasizing it was perfect for Alex Rodriguez. I guess we know how Jim feels about A-Rod. The embattled Yankees DH bats seventh, and now, so does his execution walk-up music.

8. Gustav Holst – “Mars, the Bringer of War,” from The Planets: You didn’t think I’d forget this one, did you? It’s a good one for stat nerds too, because any good baseball player should be the bringer of WAR.

9. Serge Prokofiev – “The Alien God and the Dance of the Pagan Monsters,” from Scythian Suite: I mean, you don’t even need to hear it to know this is intimidating music, right? Do take a listen, though, because this is the piece I would likely choose as my walk-up music. And, yes, I would be batting ninth…frequently replaced by a more talented pinch-hitter.

So, there you have it. My starting lineup of Classical Walk-Up Music. I’d love to hear yours. Leave it in the comments…or blog about it and send me a link. In the meantime, here’s a Spotify playlist of my picks for your listening pleasure.