The San Francisco Conservatory of Music (SFCM) played host to commencement for the Class of 2023 on Friday, conferring degrees to 184 undergraduate, postgraduate, and graduate students. 

The ceremony, which was held at Herbst Theatre in the San Francisco War Memorial and Performing Arts Center, featured a welcome by Chairman of the Board of Trustees Timothy Foo, an address by American composer Jake Heggie, remarks by SFCM President David Stull, student speeches, and numerous musical performances.

“It’s your turn, my friends. Be bold. We need passionate young people to get us reconnected through music to what matters most about being human—and I choose you,” said Heggie, who was awarded a doctorate of music, honoris causa, during the event. “To do the real work of music, you have to be present. No one can learn it for you. No one else can master your technique. You have to show up and do your work.”

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SFCM 2023 graduates

He inspired the graduating class to overcome obstacles along their career paths and spoke to the importance of teachers and learning–including returning arts to public schools–and to the strength that music provides in the lives of its creators and audiences. The full text of his speech is below.

Heggie is the artist behind nine full-length operas, including Dead Man Walking, Moby Dick, and Great Scott. Dead Man Walking, based on Sister Helen Prejean’s memoir about fighting to save the soul of a condemned murderer, will open the 2023-2024 season at the Metropolitan Opera; it will be conducted by Met Music Director Yannick Nezet-Seguin and will star Joyce DiDonato, last year’s SFCM commencement speaker. (Both Nezet-Seguin and DiDonato are represented by Askonas Holt, the leading artist management company acquired by SFCM in 2022.)

In addition, Heggie has composed nearly 300 art songs and recently visited SFCM to workshop his latest production, Intelligence.

His works “The Light of Coincidences” from the song cycle A Question of Light and “That I did always love” from Newer Every Day: Songs for Kiri were performed during the ceremony by Heggie and SFCM alumni Efrain Solis ‘13 and Alexandra Armantrading ‘17, respectively. The melodic, harmonious pieces speak to perspectives of seeing and the need to connect.

“The number one most important word for you leaving today is ‘optimism’,” said Stull. “It allows you to see the world as endless possibilities.” Optimism, the ability to work on a team or by one’s self, the discipline to achieve, and the originality to create the unexpected are among the skills of those who study music, Stull detailed.

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President David Stull hands out credentials.

In a similar sentiment, double bassist Alexandria Kelley BM ‘23 addressed her classmates and guests by saying, “Being an artist means being an ambassador of the values we want to see around us.” Kelley and Jasmine Sahd PSC ‘23, who studied vocal performance, were nominated and elected by their peers as student speakers.

Two of their classmates were honored for their academic achievement: Allegra Kelly BM ‘23 received the Dean’s Award and Laura Elena Fernandez MM ‘23 was presented with the President’s Award. Both earned degrees in vocal performance.

“You always have a home at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music,” said Foo. “Take pride in what you've accomplished and cherish the memories.”

Prepared remarks by 2023 commencement honoree Jake Heggie:

Hello, Class of 2023, and congratulations! What a thrill to speak to you today. Thanks for showing up. 

You know, that’s not to be taken lightly. Showing up isn’t a little thing. It is EVERYTHING. 

But what exactly does it mean to show up in the year 2023? It got a little confusing there a couple years ago, right? It also meant showing up online - and thank goodness we had that, and you survived it! But we all learned that’s not really where it’s at. The experience led to some crazy fun, impressive innovation that continues to evolve ... but to do the real work of music, you have to be present. No one can learn it for you. No one else can master your technique. You have to show up and do the work. 

But more than anything, the goal is being in the room to feel the vibration together. That vibration at the heart of it - the breath, the fire, the energy that inspires music, art and creativity. That’s what it’s all about - that exchange of energy and ideas - a constant circle. Back and forth. And as musicians, we work tirelessly to perfect our craft so we can give that away. It seems counterintuitive - and of course we all want to be paid for what we do - but in the end, it’s about sharing it, setting it free. Building and perfecting our technique to let the music go meaningfully: to give it away. Because ultimately it doesn’t belong to just one of us. It belongs to all of us.

Music is essential – and it is essentially optimistic. It is about the future: the very best of what we can achieve together when we open our hearts and minds to strive for something great and seemingly unattainable. The bar is set very high. 

It is always a challenging time for the performing arts, but even more so since the pandemic years. I’m sure you’ve heard the concerns about half-empty concert halls and opera houses, funds drying up, companies at risk of closing. This is incredibly alarming and serious. But it’s also not new. 

It’s why throughout history we’ve always sought innovation, fresh voices and perspectives, new stories and venues: to astonish, attract, amaze, wake up and shake up the audience anew. To let them in and let them fall in love with what we cherish so dearly. 

So let me ask you: are we faced with an insurmountable crisis? or is this a golden opportunity for something vigorous, fresh and bold? I vote for the latter. 

The quest and demand for new talent and vision is the only reason anyone develops a career in the arts. It’s the reason I was lucky enough to be given a doorway to the career I have today.

Music saved me again and again as a kid. It gave me connection and community when I was getting through the aftermath of my father’s suicide when I was 10 years old. I felt that powerful flame and fire in my core that pushed me to work hard. I studied with wonderful, kind, demanding teachers; composed songs for musicals I’d never complete, for singers I’d never meet, discovered art song and opera ... I studied at UCLA and experienced magical teaching and connections that still amaze me: my piano teacher had studied with a pupil of Franz Liszt. Liszt played for Beethoven, who played for Mozart. I was a few handshakes away from Mozart! At UCLA, I was a page turner for concerts by Isaac Stern, Itzhak Perlman, Kiri Te Kanawa, Renata Scotto, and - unforgettably - Leontyne Price. 

That was in 1988 at the height of the AIDS crisis. Miss Price gave an astounding recital with pianist David Garvey. Thunderous applause and it was time for encores. I followed them off stage, where Miss Price fell into her brother’s arms sobbing. She said: “George I can’t go back out there. There’s a young man in the front row in a wheelchair ... he’s dying of AIDS, and he keeps trying to stand up for me.” Her brother said: “Then Lee, you go out there and sing the next one directly to him.” She got very quiet, found new strength, stood 10 feet tall, then walked out regally, looked directly at that young man and sang “Vissi d’Arte” (“I lived for art” from Puccini’s Tosca). I don’t know how much time he had left on the earth, but he was certainly transformed. I was, too. Everyone felt it. And I realized - this is what it’s all about. Showing up - giving it away - and maybe changing someone’s life. 

Around that time, in my late 20s, I developed a focal dystonia in my right hand. It would curl up painfully when I’d play. I found a teacher who could help me, but she told me it would be years of slow work - starting all over with scales - and that I probably wouldn’t be able to play any of the music I had played before. I suddenly felt like an enormous failure - but I had to make a living. And I was determined to find a way to be close to music, even if I couldn’t be in the creative center of it. 

I got a job at the UCLA Center for the Performing Arts as a PR writer. I found I was pretty good at writing about music and performance. That led to a similar job at Cal Performances in Berkeley. Then the same job happened to open up at the San Francisco Opera - and out of 300 applicants, I got it! Through those jobs, I got to know the people who make the music business work: administrators, managers, donors, writers, critics, producers, directors, singers, front of house, backstage and on and on. 

Rehearsals at the opera were revelations. My responsibility was to write about the opera and spread the word to the community. And what a vast, remarkable community it was. Seekers of the flame and keepers of the flame united in the magical space of the opera house. An enormous family. Lifelong friendships and connections emerged. 

I began to play the piano again. Through the opera, I befriended Frederica von Stade. She inspired me deeply - made me want to compose again. And though she didn’t know me as a composer or pianist, I took a chance and set some folk songs for her. After a moment of wide-eyed terror (“Oh goody, the PR Guy writes songs!”) we read through them: me at the piano, her singing over my shoulder. And she said: “These are really beautiful. Would you like to give a concert together sometime?” A doorway opened. 

She told other singers and soon artists were coming to the PR Office to ask if I had a song for them, or if I’d write one. More doorways. So, by day I wrote press releases, and in my spare time I wrote art songs. That seemed like a pretty good way to make a life! I was very happy. 

Then out of the blue, General Director Lotfi Mansouri said: “So you’re writing all these songs for great singers who are performing them all over the world. Ever thought about writing an opera?” “Um, NO!” I replied. And he said, “Well, I think you’re a theater composer. I want to send you to New York to meet Terrence McNally. We have a spot on the 2000/2001 Season and I’d like you two to think of an opera.” 

That door opened and I jumped through it. I met Terrence and a couple of years later, I was composer in residence at the San Francisco Opera. 

The world premiere of Dead Man Walking was on October 7, 2000. This Fall, 75 international productions later, it will open the Metropolitan Opera season in a new production conducted by Yannick Nezet-Seguin and starring Joyce DiDonato. That first opera led to many other opportunities - many other doorways - and this Fall, a month after Dead Man opens the Met, my 10th opera, Intelligence, will open the Houston Grand Opera’s Season. I know how lucky I am and I work very hard. Because that’s what we do in music. We work hard. 

Why do I tell you all this? Because the path to a career is almost never what you think it will be. My hand injury seemed like the worst possible thing that could ever have happened – and it turned out to be an immense gift. It set me on an unexpected path powered by curiosity, passion and a desperate need to be close to music. And on that path, I met amazing, generous people who offered adventure and possibility. People who believed and said: “Hey, how about you?” 

So how about you here today? In the world you face, some see something at risk of disappearing. Maybe it could. It will be up to your generation to determine what happens next. But I feel something shifting. I feel your energy and ideas – something amazing ready to blossom. 

Removing the arts from public schools more than 40 years ago was a huge mistake. It has affected every level of our national dialogue and education. But you can get it back there, to open up a world of possibility for young people and take us back to healing, dialogue, conversation, connection - showing up for each other - through ideas, invention, and music. 

So, Class of 2023, while you’re out there following your path, looking for that next doorway - here’s your most urgent charge: GET THE ARTS BACK INTO PUBLIC SCHOOLS. Take the next generation by the hand, show up for them - be a mentor even as you seek new mentors yourself - share your excitement and passion for music. Demonstrate what it really means to show up for another. There’s room for everyone. 

Honor your sacred flame, your spiritual heroes, the people who have shown up for you. Your presence is one of the great gifts you have to offer the world. Your passion is meaningless unless you share it. Show up for all the people waiting to find a voice, to sing and join the chorus. The further you reach out, the broader your horizon, the richer your life, the clearer your path. 

This road can be very lonely. But I promise you that in music – even when you feel lonely – you are never alone. Your spirit guides are with you. We are with you. All you ever have to do is listen. And even if your road takes you somewhere outside the music field - your hard work and devotion will serve you well forever. None of it is in vain.

It’s your turn, my friends. Be bold. We need passionate young people to get us reconnected through music to what matters most about being human – and I choose you. I choose you to ignite and share the flame of possibility and the fire of inspiration. I choose you to wake up the world and blaze new pathways. I choose you, Class of 2023. You’ve done good work – now get out there and do great work. Thank you.