Raymond Tuttle, Fanfare magazineThis is a jazz opera which “is a tribute to the resistance of migrants to the destruction of ecologies, economies, and cultures unleashed by slavery, conquest, and colonization—in short, a history of capitalism from the point of view of women warriors from Africa, the Middle East, and Latin America.” That’s a tall order for a work that is 50 minutes in length, and as a result, Mirror Butterfly hardly goes beneath the surface of the issues that it raises. However, if Mirror Butterfly gets the attention of those who need to hear it most—both oppressors and the oppressed—then it cannot be called a failure. I suspect that many listeners coming to Mirror Butterfly without already being connected to this style of music (which I would categorize as acid jazz, although I don’t like categories!) or to these social issues will find it tough going, even for 50 minutes. Its tone is angry (understandably so!) and defiant, and even well-meaning listeners might think, “Look, I’m very sympathetic to the concepts that are presented here, but I feel that I am being yelled at.” In fact, that was my reaction the first time I heard this work, at least for its first 10 minutes or so, but I decided that I was reacting defensively and that I should just put that defensiveness aside. It’s not for me to tell migrants how they should tell their stories, and I recognize that I have been granted privileges as a white American male, albeit one who is in a sexual minority. The opera is based on a Mayan parable in which a tree represents indigenous people and their culture. It is attacked by a sword (conquest, patriarchy, and capitalism) and in response, it turns first into a stone (resistant but partly concealed) and then into water, which finally rusts and dissolves the sword. At the end, the speaker who represents the sword bitterly reflects, “Why all this power with no purpose?” There are other metaphors, including mushrooms (which contain the energies and elements from which the sword is constructed, although they can choose not to be a part of it), and the butterfly of the work’s title, who with a stoneflower, is another avatar of water. These avatars bring other cultures to the work. For example, the stoneflower is associated with the “spirit and the theory of the matriarchal, revolutionary Kurdish movement.” Composer Benjamin Barson, whose name is hardly prominent in Innova’s materials, is a graduate student in jazz studies at the University of Pittsburgh, and a self-described political activist. Mirror Butterfly is quite an accomplishment for someone who is a Ph.D. candidate, although I suspect that he would be quick to cite the role of the Pittsburgh-based Afro Yaqui Music Collective (“a postcolonial big band dedicated to the activating the histories and collaboration between African diasporic and indigenous peoples”) in making this happen. That said, Barson was the recipient of the ASCAP Foundation’s 2018 Johnny Mandel Prize, which is the Foundation’s highest honor for jazz composers under 30. You can’t miss the passion in the performances—not just among the vocalists and the speaking actors, but also among the instrumentalists, who include saxophonists, string players, a rhythm section, and percussionists. Fortunately, their passion is matched by their professionalism. According to Innova, this is a live recording, but it is remarkably clean, and the audience—who were they?—is remarkably quiet. OK, if you have read this far, you’re probably someone who might appreciate this release, and who might even be enthusiastic about it, although I think it defies use of the verb “to like.” It is not “easy listening” but its message is important, even if some might not respond to its medium.