From the very first sounds you hear in Rewilding, the newest orchestral work by the prominent, widely admired composer Gabriella Smith, you know right away that you’re in for something extraordinary. One percussionist swirls walnuts in metal mixing bowls. A second player taps on another set of bowls and various metal objects. Two more apply wooden mallets to the spokes of spinning bicycle wheels, the resultant clacking likely familiar to all past and present children in earshot. 

However disorienting those sounds might seem when produced by classical musicians on a concert stage, they are meant to express joy — the fun of making noise using purely elemental sources and common implements turned to uncommon uses.

“I love the sound,” Smith said of the bikes, laughing, during a recent interview. “I recorded it for a piece I wrote for the Kronos Quartet, and I liked the sound so much I thought, ‘I’m going to use this in an orchestral score.’”

Rewilding is filled with other such moments of delight. Smith compels players to be “messy,” to play “out of sync.” She regularly asks them to “wiggle” and “bend” notes. At one climactic point, her instruction to the string players is direct: “Be a frog.” (Smith provides the players with QR codes linked to videos in which she demonstrates on violin exactly what she’s after.)

The resulting reverie extends a long tradition of composers exulting in nature that reaches back to Vivaldi, Haydn, Beethoven, and Wagner, to name only a few. But for Smith — who grew up in the Bay Area exploring, backpacking, studying, and volunteering — the celebration is a call to action. And importantly, she invites audiences to sense the joy and community she has found in ecological activism.

Rewilding takes its name from a specific approach to ecosystem restoration. “Rewilding is turning the ecosystems all around us that have been degraded due to human activity back into healthy functioning ecosystems, largely by removing invasive plants and planting native ones,” Smith explains. “This is hugely beneficial for biodiversity, and also functions to capture carbon, mitigate the effects of climate disasters, improve air quality, and enhance the physical and mental health of humans who live in the area.”

She’s eager to address a common misconception about rewilding: that the goal is to erase or reverse human presence. “In fact,” she says, “rewilding requires human influence to get an ecosystem back into a healthy state, which I find really inspiring.”

In a brief note about the composition, Smith makes the process personal:

Throughout my life, I’ve worked on many different rewilding projects around the world, the most recent being on a former airplane runway in Seattle. There are so many beneficial environmental results of rewilding, but the thing that keeps me coming back is pleasure: the pleasure of getting my hands in the dirt, of hearing northern flickers and Bewick’s wrens, of biking to and from the site (another climate solution that consistently brings me joy), and the pleasure of being part of something bigger.

Understanding Smith’s perspective provides a key to hearing Rewilding more deeply and profoundly. The bicycles in the score represent her joy in taking action. The chorus of frogs connotes a healthy ecosystem, of which flourishing amphibians are a leading indicator. Both the natural sounds and orchestral impressions of Rewilding are directly tied to Smith’s lived experience: the wild places near where she grew up and the places she’s visited since. 

This now includes Cuyahoga Valley National Park surrounding Blossom Music Center, which Smith learned about when she visited Cleveland in April 2024 for performances of her organ concerto, Breathing Forests. Park representatives told Smith about the history of the area, one of the most significant sites of ecological reclamation and restoration in modern US history. 

Yet even though Smith’s music is inextricably linked to her environmental activism, she doesn’t set out to create pieces that convey lessons literally. “Music is too abstract, and that’s okay,” Smith explains. “When I’m writing, I’m not thinking about the work I’ve done that week at the restoration site; I’m thinking about how to build a compelling musical arc and narrative.” Even so, she understands that her music provides an opportunity to connect with audiences about what drives her ecological work. “It’s important to me that people know they can be part of climate action in a way that is fun and joyful.” 

Most people, she acknowledges, view the climate crisis as a cause for despair. “Those feelings are important, too,” Smith says, “and I feel all those things when I’m writing this music. But it’s also infused with joy, and the feeling that it’s actually enjoyable to be a part of this restoration work.” 

— Steve Smith 

Steve Smith (no relation to the composer) is a journalist, critic, and editor based in New York City. He has written about music for The New York Times and The New Yorker, and served as an editor for the Boston Globe, Time Out New York, and NPR.