Basking in the glow of the 1936 renewal of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s residency at Ravinia, the festival paid tribute to its partnership with the ensemble during the early 1900s, when Ravinia was known as the “summer opera capital of the world,” with a gala season-opening performance on July 1, 1937, in honor of Louis Eckstein, who oversaw The Ravinia Company from 1911 to 1931.

There are a few necessities for a picture-perfect Fourth of July celebration: a hot grill, a cold drink, a few firecrackers (conscientiously handled, of course), and a small wind band marching down the main drag. Though the draw of that last item may have faded in present times, it’s an element sure to be found in cinema of a certain age—not to mention more than a few old photo albums—and just as assuredly such a band would be playing one of two things: a rousing march by John Philip Sousa, or “76 Trombones” from Meredith Willson’s inimitable Broadway and silver-screen hit, The Music Man.

When Ryan Speedo Green was in fourth grade in southern Virginia, he was placed in a special education class for students with behavior problems. His teacher was Elizabeth Hughes, a petite woman with blonde wavy hair, a heart of gold, and a backbone of stainless steel. Green initiated their relationship by hurling his desk at her. Rather than reacting with expected censure, Hughes calmly told him that she could teach him as well sitting on the floor as anywhere else, and if he demonstrated an incentive to learn, she would restore the desk. He earned his desk back.

When it comes to rock’s all-time landmark albums, The Moody Blues’ Days of Future Passed holds so many distinctions that it’s still being dissected, celebrated, and now performed for the very first time in its entirety 50 years later on a summer tour that swings through Ravinia on June 30. At face value, the iconic collection is stacked with the era-defining smashes “Nights in White Satin” and “Tuesday Afternoon,” though it’s also became an archetype for the idea of a concept album. And perhaps equally amazing was the fact this masterpiece was recorded in a ridiculously short amount of time at the request of the band’s record label, Decca, a mostly classical company that, believe it or not, wanted the ever-evolving Moodies to simply provide a test “stereo recording” (which was brand-new in the musical marketplace).

If there’s one thing you really need to know about Andrew Bird, it’s that he’s always whistled, from as far back as he can remember. Perhaps he picked it up from his grandmother, whom he recalls doing the same thing. “I’m pretty much always whistling,” he says.

To be sure, reducing any artist to only one skill (or one passion or, heaven forbid, one gimmick) is unfair. It’s a particularly egregious sin when discussing a musician as smart and complex as Bird. A Chicago native and musical polyglot, he plays multiple instruments—his signature violin, plus guitar, mandolin, and glockenspiel—and he’s also well-versed in a wide range of genres, from classical to jazz, folk to pop, not unlike Ravinia, where he will play for the first time on July 23.

Steeped deeply and nestled comfortably in the jazz tradition, Diana Krall is an elegant enigma. The lauded pianist-vocalist, who seemingly can’t help but strike a classy and graceful, yet playfully teasing persona, has creatively carved a unique career defined by meandering musically into a variety of genres with ease and originality.
She follows a sonic path that knows no bounds.