Violinist Anne Akiko Meyers and Pianist Lara Downes Dazzle at KDFC Sky Concert

The key word was ‘community’ at the September 16 performance of all American music in San Francisco

By Megan Westberg

Just making your way to the venue is an unusual—and agreeable—experience if you’re attending a KDFC Sky Concert in San Francisco, California. The venerable classical radio station (its first broadcast transmitted in 1948) shares a building with the San Francisco Conservatory, and the Bowes Center for the Performing Arts, where the concert will transpire, is on the eleventh floor. So one may find oneself, as I did, in an elevator with fellow concertgoers and a variety of students balancing unwieldy instrument cases, bags, and dinner plates. This is fun and a welcome introduction to the general vibe of the evening, where a sense of community reigns supreme.

The concerts are held in a room full of warm wood, a piano, and some seats (but not many—it is an intimate space). It’s only with an effort that one notices those things, however, because the room is dominated by windows. On September 16, when violinist Anne Akiko Meyers is to perform with pianist and radio host Lara Downes, those windows display a dusky, overcast city that sits just behind semi-transparent screens. The interior lighting is bright, a music stand idles between the piano and a bank of cameras, and two chairs with mics sit to one side. The dress code could perhaps be described as California eclectic: suits and Hawaiian shirts congenially fill the space, which buzzes pleasantly.

It is a bit of a coincidence, this concert. Anne Akiko Meyers will be the subject of a cover story in the November/December issue, and that issue also includes a special section about the radio. And speaking of radio, it is the president of KDFC, Bill Lueth, who first addresses the audience this evening. (For those who have listened to him over the years, yes, he does sound like that in person, and yes, his voice is, in fact, divine.) He welcomes the audience and pitches the Harmony Fund, a “donor-led matching pool” created in an effort to make up a shortfall caused by federal funding cuts to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. Classical California, the umbrella under which KDFC and Los Angeles’ KUSC have operated since 2022, has irrevocably lost $1.1 million of its budget. His remarks are brief and friendly. Radio host Maggie Clennon Reberg then introduces the performers, inviting the room to relax and enjoy as she opens with a joke and scores a number of laughs throughout.

When the performers take their places, the intimacy of the venue becomes immediately evident. They aren’t separated from the audience by a stage, or even by much space. They stride into place on the same hardwood upon which the audience rests its collective feet, and it is one of the first indications that the community feel isn’t just reinforced by the manner of our welcome. The audience at a Sky Concert is very much a part of the performance.

Meyers and Downes open with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” dedicated, as they tell us later, to Robert Redford, who had died that day. It’s a good choice. Meyers clearly has an affinity for this piece, which translates into a warm and colorful performance that makes clever use of her instrument’s smoky lower register. It’s the 1741 “Vieuxtemps” Guarneri del Gesù, so one naturally expects it to sound good. And it does. But this close, one gets a more thorough appreciation for not only the colors of its sound, but its textures as well.

They play, then they sit and chat for a few minutes, then they play again, and this is the format throughout. It is to be a program of all American music, and it’s clear Meyers and Downes have already established an easy rapport through their previous work together. Next up: New Chaconne by Philip Glass, written for Meyers especially and included on one of her albums released this year. In the liner notes, Richard Guérin describes it as inspired by “the idea of new friends and old forms,” and mentions its unusually jaunty pace. Meyers describes it as meditative, reflective, and soulful. Downes praises its “perfect simplicity.” There is something of life in its repetition, and if a chaconne could often be described as the study of a gloomy day, New Chaconne is made of glimmers of sunlight, of memories made on cheerful summers’ afternoons.

Before the final note finishes ringing, a member of the audience makes an appreciative noise. Instead of ignoring it, Meyers laughs. And that’s what I mean when I call it a community event. Everyone is involved, everyone reacts, and everyone is having a good time. Together.

The second movement from Michael Daugherty’s Blue Electra (also written for Meyers) is next on the program. The concerto is inspired by Amelia Earhart, and every movement is meant to capture a moment from the aviatrix’s life, this one Paris (1932), when she received the Legion of Honor from the French government after flying nonstop and alone across the Atlantic (the first woman to do so). This movement is full of hot jazz and champagne, a fizzy, energetic romp that showcases Meyers’ dexterity and obvious delight in its vivacious spirit. It’s inescapably fun, and both performers lean into it.

After another brief chat, there is a decided tonal shift with the next piece, Mother and Child by William Grant Still, the first Black composer to have a symphony played by a major American orchestra. Mother and Child is the second movement from his Suite for Violin and Piano. Lovely, lyrical, soaring, and emotional, this piece was inspired by a drawing by Sargent Johnson, an artist associated with the Harlem Renaissance. It is in turns tender and dramatic, filling the room with potent volume and diminishing to a whisper. When Meyers reaches a phrase she particularly likes, she smiles.

The pair closes the performance part of the evening with the contemplative and bittersweet Sure on This Shining Night by Morten Lauridsen. Originally written for vocalists and piano, based on a poem by James Agee, it sings gently, wistfully. And perhaps it’s the context, this evening of American music, and that’s why I can hear picket fences in it, fields, mountains, windows, sidewalks, peace. There is something whole (wholesome?) about it, even in its aching sense of nostalgia. But then, perhaps that’s the point. That in music, no matter how fractious the times, we can still sometimes hear the best of us.  

The audience remains rapt and quiet until the last notes die away. The gray screens obscuring the city retract and my companion remarks that the city lights look too pretty to be real, almost like a screensaver. It is now time for a Q&A session, and Meyers and Downes begin a conversation with the audience. Meyers reminisces about her early days in Ridgecrest, California, and talks about the Vieuxtemps. Margaret, a self-described “failed fourth grade violist” (who receives applause for this admission), asks what she and Downes would’ve done had they not become musicians (Meyers would’ve been a painter, Downes an archeologist or actor).

They both love radio. Downes considers it a kind of magic portal to the “accidental listener,” an audience that doesn’t necessarily seek out the artists and music they discover. “I love the whole platform,” says Meyers. “It just motivates you to dream. And that’s really special.” The audience in attendance tonight, which lingers at the evening’s close to congratulate Meyers on her performance, would no doubt agree wholeheartedly.

For this performance, short video clips, photos, and featurettes will be made available through the Classical California website and social media channels.