Johanna Beyer and Q Lazzarus: Women Erased, Women Reclaimed

“Poor, forgotten creatures, dragging on— 
But void,
Where could be wings!”
—Johanna Beyer

Unearthing Forgotten Women in Music

Documenting the uncelebrated involves laborious mining and hollowing out discarded lumps in history. Researching the unexplored reveals a channeling and uncovering of stories that are unbelievably charged. Amy C. Beal’s biography, “Johanna Beyer” (2015) and Eva Aridjis’ documentary film “Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives Of Q Lazzarus” (2024) respectively disclose testaments of loyalty through the arduous processes of revealing women in music neglected and overlooked. 

Johanna Beyer: A Composer Lost and Found

Today still, Johanna Beyer (1888–1944) is shrouded in mystery. With the incredible work of music historian Amy C. Beal, we come to know of a musician unrecognized who altered the musical landscape. Upon picking up a copy of Beal’s “Johanna Beyer,” the reviews portending the quality of this posthumous biography divulge the powerful alliance of the subject and historian. “Beal […] allows us to appreciate the musical rewards in bringing someone in from the cold margins of conventional history.” (Judith Tick, 2015) Beal’s excavation is described as a “musical miracle,” (Kyle Gann, 2015) emphasizing the biography as being an “intimate” one. Everything surrounding this unearthing points to its deeply personal aspect. Beal cites her late partner, Larry Polansky, as originally spearheading this research.

Through collaborative work cataloging Beyer’s scores, Polansky and John Kennedy were the first to publish a revealing article about her. Their composers’ collective, Frog Peak Music, is an important endeavor to bring Beyer to the forefront where she always belonged, making her scores available to the public. “Larry kept pestering me,” which we are incredibly grateful for as it encouraged relentless detective work to unblur Johanna Beyer. The grace with which the subject is approached reveals a duty of care both Beal and Polansky felt towards a key figure in the ultramodernist movement. Amy C. Beal and Larry Polansky have done us the immeasurable service of no longer leaving Johanna consigned to oblivion. Most details on her life are still missing and just as Michael Byron asked Peter Garland in 1973, we ask “who is this lady, Johanna Beyer?’ 

A Life in Fragments

Now a translucent ghost floating over the history of music, she was an active participant in an avant-garde musical scene active between the two World Wars. Her life appears to us as disappointments and ellipses while gaps in her biography slowly reveal the neglect within her musical circle. Beal’s power as the archaeologist lies within her understanding that personal matters most: Beyer was ignored and wrongly remembered by the music community as  being reclusive and troubled but her letters and those of her close friends paint the clear picture. What may seem mundane within legal documents, notes on commutes as a music teacher and correspondence during a complicated unrequited romance with Henry Cowell are in fact the golden crumbs that carry us closest to understanding who this lady was. “Never be lazy with research!“ Beal’s championing of Beyer continues, her garage full of facsimiles of her manuscripts for any enquiries regarding her work.

Recognition Denied, Recognition Gained

“Johanna Beyer” is an important effort among countless others to face the divide between the documentation of men vs. the scarcity of published histories about women. Discovering Beal’s research 10 years after its publication and watching this journey unfold from a distance in a warped time zone, intensifies the discouragement and incredulity regarding Beyer’s failed successes. In 1938, Beyer applied for the Guggenheim grant to create a (never completed) opera “Status Quo.” Comments regarding her application point to the contradictory impressions Beyer made on her peers. Cowell, who she had championed during his entire stay in prison, states “Her whimsy and originality really amount to genius,” but a committee member concludes, “at age 50 she doesn’t appear to be a good risk as a composer.” The recipients of the grants at that time had only been men, all younger than 46. Posthumously, the recognition of her talents is cosmic. Marguerite Boland describes “Movement for Two Pianos” (1936) with visceral admiration: “Then suddenly, the fading resonances are shattered by a crashing staccato cluster chord of two octaves in each hand … another follows … then a succession of struck and arpeggiated cluster-chords of up to seven octaves destroys any remaining sense of repose,” and concludes “the force of this music is all the more surprising coming from the pen of a woman who was remembered as being self-conscious, and extremely quiet, almost painfully shy.” (2007)

This book speaks of the strength of future musical communities. Beal states, “Beyer didn’t have one during her lifetime,” as her frustrations and desperation took a toll on her overall well-being. “I wish she knew how much Larry and I talked about her. Together and with our students and friends. She has a community now, one she never had (at least that we know about) during her lifetime.” Thanks to the endless amounts of work produced for Johanna Beyer, the circle continues to grow. “I am proud to have told the part of the story I could find. I am glad to be an advocate. Larry and I did this together (and John Kennedy who helped get this started.)” The biography ends on a concluding chapter titled “May The Future Be Kind to All Composers.” Throughout the biography, Beal cites those who cared, in an unmistakable effort to debunk the myth Johanna wasn’t and isn’t surrounded. 

“From her disappearance from the historical record to the many archival sources, editions, performances, recordings and works of scholarship that we have available today, Beyer seems to have finally achieved the attention she so desperately – and futilely – sought for her music during her lifetime. In the end we are left with both a paucity of information and a weather of riches from Beyer’s life: a volume of personal and professional correspondence, a diary written by a friend, a few legal documents, a census with misinformation, three photographs, a name spelled wrong on a gravestone – and some fifty-six compositions that deserve to be heard.”

Eva Aridjis and the Mystery of Q Lazzarus

The future wasn’t kind. Equally significant in its mission to unearth important female musical contributions is Eva Aridjis’ “Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus.” Through each of her documentary exploits Aridjis acts as a conduit, catching a subject in-extremis as she delicately places them in shining light. Aridjis worked for over 5 years on an intimate documentary about Diane Luckey aka Q Lazzarus, singer of “Goodbye Horses.” Aridjis welcomes the viewer into an intimate recounting of its development as she tells of her own relationship to the song. As soon as she describes her very early desires to uncover the musician, we know Aridjis has perceived gaps in documentation as a very powerful historical record.

“Goodbye Horses” is famously known as being Buffalo Bill’s dancing song in “Silence of the Lambs.” Though the track was received with limitless enthusiasm, played by countless radio DJs, the musician behind it remained a riddle. Soon after the release of the film, Q Lazzarus disappeared. Aridjis opens her documentary speaking to her audience personally, explaining how, 25 years after the inexplicable evaporation of the musician, the two women serendipitously meet in Q’s taxi cab. Thus begins a sincere and collaborative exploration of Luckey’s many lives. 

The documentary chronicles the profound injustices suffered by Luckey as a woman of colour evolving in a marketed musical sphere: producers didn’t “know” where an “alternative black woman” would fit. The distinct nature of her proud beauty was unprecedented in rock music, and those making the decisions regarding the exclusive coterie (whether in the US or in the UK) did not let her in. As their friendship grows and beautifies, Eva documents these injustices, filling the void with testaments from close relations, collaborative musicians and family members alike. With wit and humor, Q walks us through the pains and tribulations of hitting every wall in the music industry and not having any space within it. 

Despite the manifold obstacles Q was bold and brave and bright. She fought and drove on with fierce rebellion until she no longer could. “I had to disappear.” “Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus” takes us through each of the chapters in Diane’s journey, as she peppers her storytelling with joy and warmth. The importance of driving in her life is clear: director of “Silence of The Lambs,” Jonathan Demme, hailed her cab during a snowstorm and she played the demo of “Goodbye Horses.” Years later it was no coincidence she picked up Eva Aridjis, who so desperately wanted to understand what had happened after “Goodbye Horses.”

Painful predictions within the lyrics in the song echo Q’s future strains, “​​I’ve seen my hopes and dreams lying on the ground.” The ending of the track trails off and sounds almost unfinished, as if predicting a story cut short. A joyous chapter on the brink of unfurling during the  film promises a Q Lazzarus comeback and music release. Hope soon vanishes, however, as Luckey succumbs to illness during filming, demonstrating a pervasive and shocking tale of racist neglect as Luckey did not receive adequate medical care when she was hospitalized. To this day Aridjis remains a big part of Luckey’s life and it is through her perseverance as an unmistakable storyteller that Q Lazzarus’ music has finally been released.

Legacies That Almost Disappeared

Beal, Polansky and a growing cluster of Beyer fans have lifted part of the “total eclipse” over Johanna and given her wings. Eva Aridjis celebrated Diane Luckey’s many lives. Though the pneumas of these important musicians continue to “fly over” us (with allure, mystique and hopefully in Q Lazzarus’ taxi) it’s certainly a woman’s work to catch lady stories before they go stale at the mercy of history’s selective storage. 

Featured image of Beyer courtesy of Amy C. Beal and image of Q Lazzarus courtesy of Eva Aridjis.