by Lindsey Tootle
Published January 6, 2025
What started as a Facebook group hoping to connect musicians in the Deep South came together, two months later, for in-person music-making
A few months ago, in October, harpsichordist Michael Delfin and I launched the Southeastern Early Music Community (SEMC) group on Facebook. Having recently relocated, with his family, to teach at the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa, Michael wanted to connect with other early-music enthusiasts in the region. I’m an Alabama native, but have lived out of state for several years. Although our networks include a lot of people, surprisingly few are from the Southeastern early-music scene.
Our goal with SEMC was simple: to connect musicians and enthusiasts to highlight early-music happenings across the Southeast. The group was met with excitement online and has grown steadily and organically. Musicians living in the region, and even a few long-lost Southerners, helped us reach 150 members by December.
As we approached the holidays, I posted to the group that my Baroque violin and I would be back home in Alabama at year’s end. Did anyone know of concerts I could attend? Did anybody want to get together and read through some music? To my surprise, several members chimed in enthusiastically: Let’s do a jam! Some folks in Atlanta offered to host and help coordinate. Our first in-person event was on.
Strike the viol, touch the lute,
Wake the harp, inspire the flute.
Sing your patroness’s praise,
In cheerful and harmonious lays.
Poet Nahum Tate penned these lyrics for Henry Purcell’s charming 1694 aria “Strike the Viol,” but it’s as if he knew exactly what would happen over three centuries later, on a stormy day in Georgia a few days after Christmas.
Tate’s timeless words rang out in the spacious auditorium at the Atlanta Speech School. The aria sits more comfortably in the alto range, but soprano Krysta Therieau Earle, an elementary music teacher, sang so beautifully it was as if the music had been written just for her.
Across the stage, Liz Thomas, who has a decade of experience playing viol and performs with Atlanta’s Lauda Musicam, was jokingly urged not to take the text too literally. What she did do, however, was anchor the ensemble with a drive and steadiness that Purcell himself would have approved of. Beside her, celebrated harpsichordist Alexandra Dunbar added perfectly placed embellishments, while alto recorder player Cathy Slowik, another regular with Lauda Musicam and also a member of the Atlanta Recorder Society, and Baroque flutist Brittany Salkill accompanied merrily, smiling, never missing a beat.
At the end everyone turned around and played “Strike the Viol” through once more, and for this repeat I joined and did my best attempt at an improvisation of the melody on Baroque violin. Alongside the others, playing felt free-flowing, natural, and above all, fun. Cheerful and harmonious, indeed.
It was exactly when we had finished this piece that Adrin Akins — our host, countertenor, harpist, and all-around hero — ran in with extra copies of music for us. In the middle of this rather impromptu early-music jam session we suddenly needed more music. Originally, 13 people had signed up, but an understandable mix of holiday busyness and winter illness had left us with seven on the day of the event. When we determined that the ensemble necessitated unplanned repertoire changes, Adrin rushed back and forth, coaxing the printer into cooperation (as we all know, a printer’s default setting is rage), then swooping back in and handing us the music as if delivering tidings of great joy.
We became comfortable enough that, while a few folks were on break, Alexandra and I traded places: she took my violin, and I sat at the harpsichord. Although I try to live up to the designation of “world’s okayest harpsichord player,” I delighted in the opportunity to play a selection from the 1599 Susanne van Soldt manuscript alongside Alexandra on the violin.
All this is but a snapshot: for three full hours, our afternoon was nothing but lighthearted, happy music-making.
True to the spirit of the music, this gathering was improvised from start to finish. Its mere existence even felt serendipitous. Jody Miller, a beloved teacher and performer on Atlanta’s early-music scene, couldn’t attend but was instrumental in planning and organizing the meetup and spreading the word. Brittany also helped organize and lead the event, while Adrin generously provided a venue. I created a Google form for sign-ups, emailed details, and selected a few pieces to play and sing once the ensemble was finalized. With Jody, Adrin, and Brittany’s help, a distant idea quickly became a reality.
None of this would have happened without the SEMC Facebook group. Just two months prior, I didn’t even know these amazing people existed!
But this story isn’t about my holiday plans, or even SEMC. All I did was ask, and some very special folks helped make something special happen. Participants came and went, instruments changed hands, and new friendships blossomed like flowers even on a gray and stormy winter day. To me, such grace and collaboration is the soul of early music itself.
For one of our final selections, Adrin and Krysta, accompanied by our trusty continuo team, Alexandra and Liz, sang “Pur Ti Miro,” often attributed to Claudio Monteverdi. Before they began, Adrin beamed at me and said, “This is actually the first piece Krysta and I ever sang together.” And they sang it once again, complete with big smiles and a hug at the end. It was a more than fitting end to a memorable afternoon.
If you’re interested, I invite you to join us on the SEMC Facebook page. While a couple of our rules are set up specifically for those located in the Southeastern U.S., joining the group is open to all. We are also hoping to arrange more get-togethers, so helping spread the word of our existence to interested people is always helpful.
However, sitting in the afterglow of such a wonderful event, my message today is much bigger than any Facebook page or personal ambition. Rather, it’s simple: spread the joy of early music wherever you can. Play early music with your friends. Maybe you already play in an established group, or maybe you’d rather casually meet up with a few folks and read through some music for fun. Pick up that instrument you’ve always wanted to learn; it’s never too late, and early music is an excellent learning tool for more reasons than I could ever describe. Perform for strangers and share early music with those who might not often have the chance to hear it. Attend concerts and events offered by your local consort or early-music group. If you don’t have one nearby, why not explore starting one? If “working on the front end” isn’t for you, that’s ok, too. Quite often, just passing on kind words to a musician, donating a financial or in-kind gift to an organization or ensemble, or sharing a favorite recording can brighten someone’s day in ways you might never imagine.
As we welcome another year, let us take every opportunity we can to share the beauty of early music with others and keep its flame burning bright. As Tate and Purcell so eloquently rendered in “Strike the Viol,” may we lift our instruments, voices, and spirits to share the beauty of our cherished art wherever we go. If a handful of strangers who met in a Facebook group can create something magical on a rainy December day, imagine what you can do!
Lindsey Tootle is a Cincinnati-based Baroque violinist from Huntsville, Alabama. Co-founder of Bama Baroque, she is principal violinist and media manager for Seven Hills Baroque, and serves on EMA’s Emerging Professional Leadership Council.
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