It’s likely you’ll hear a good deal of American music today — and rightly so — but we’re taking a minute or two to acknowledge a special British composer’s anniversary, as today’s date marks the anniversary of the passing of William Byrd, one of England’s greatest composers, who produced both sacred and secular works that are still regularly performed today on both sides of the Atlantic.

William Byrd was born in London around 1542 — we don’t know exactly when — and died on July 4, 1623, at the age of some 80 years — a remarkably long lifespan for that time. He was also a remarkably prolific composer, a master of intricate choral counterpoint and virtuosic keyboard pieces. He was the first Englishman to write madrigals in the Italian fashion, but his chief significance lies in his many sacred works.

Byrd lived during the tumultuous period of the English Reformation, and produced works for both the Roman Catholic Church and England’s new Anglican service. Queen Elizabeth I was a great admirer of his music, so much so that she overlooked the fact that Byrd remained an unashamed Roman Catholic in Protestant England, and even granted him a royal patent related to publishing music.

William Byrd (c. 1540-1623): Sanctus, from Mass for Five Voices; The Cardinall’s Musick; Andrew Carwood; Gaudeamus CD 206

Remember Y2K — the Millennial Year 2000? It was a time of extravagant hopes and dire predictions, as pundits and prophets weighed in as the 20th century hastened to its end.

Composers weighed in, too. The American Composers Forum and the National Endowment for the Arts collaborated on Continental Harmony, a project that commissioned new musical works for public celebrations in communities large and small in all 50 states. The ambitious commissioning project was even endorsed by the Clinton White House.

Premieres of many Continental Harmony commissions occurred on or near the Fourth of July in the year 2000. On today’s date, for example, on the eve of the Fourth, the Richmond Symphony in Virginia premiered From Time to Time: Fantasias on Two Appalachian Folksongs, an orchestra work composed by Anthony Iannaccone, who explained the title of his new piece as follows:

“The extraordinary beauty of Virginia and the resilient spirit of its people provided the inspiration for an extended tone poem based first on the folksong ‘Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair’... [and then] ‘Shenandoah,’ presented in fragments … the orchestra extracts the folk melody and recasts it as a kind of Fourth of July fireworks display.”

Anthony Iannaccone (b. 1943): ‘From Time to Time’; Janacek Philharmonic; Anthony Iannaccone, conductor; Albany 486

Nothing is better than being outdoors on a glorious summer’s day listening to live music — at least that’s what American composer Libby Larsen thinks.

“I grew up on outdoor concerts,” she recalls. “There was a bandstand by my house in Minneapolis, and all summer long, orchestras and bands would play there. There's something special about being outside and hearing music fill the air with sound.”

On today’s date in 1983, Larsen’s own Deep Summer Music received its open-air premiere when the Minnesota Orchestra visited Terrace, a tiny rural community of some 200 people. But their concert drew an audience of 8000, luring music lovers from both Minnesota and neighboring South Dakota, who brought lawn chairs and picnic baskets. Deep Summer Music was written for the occasion, with long trumpet solos that could ring out in the open landscape.

At first, says Larsen, she worried the large, festive crowd wouldn’t pay much attention to her new piece. Instead, she recalls, “There was the most beautiful blanket of quiet … and as one trumpet solo happened, a “V” formation of geese flew over and honked, seeming to echo the music. It was a lovely and peaceful experience — and you couldn’t have cued the geese any better!”

Libby Larsen (b. 1950): Deep Summer Music; Colorado Symphony; Marin Alsop, conductor; Koch 7520

Browsing The New York Times for today’s date in 1867, under the banner “Amusements,” you would have seen this notice: “Mr. Theodore Thomas, returned home from his trip to Paris and Berlin, will resume personal control of the concerts given by his orchestra at Terrace Garden this evening.”

Born in Germany in 1835, Theodore Thomas came to America when he was ten. By his 20s, as a young violinist, he was a major player on the New York music scene, and by his 30s, had his own orchestra.

Thomas had a passion for introducing new works to American audiences. For example: Johann Strauss Jr.’s Blue Danube Waltz was played for the first time in Vienna in February 1867, and, thanks to Thomas, just five months later received its American premiere in midtown Manhattan on today’s date that same year. He had picked up the new score in Europe, hot off the presses, and played it at his first concert back home.

During his long and energetic musical career in New York, Cincinnati, Philadelphia, and Chicago, Thomas presented amusing musical bonbons and challenging scores old and new, ranging from Bach to Offenbach, and from Johann Strauss to Richard Strauss.

Johann Strauss, Jr. (1825-1899): Blue Danube Waltz; Columbia Symphony; Bruno Walter, conductor; Sony 64467

On today’s date in 1826, Franz Schubert completed what would be his last string quartet, published posthumously as his Opus 161.

1826 was a rather frustrating year for Schubert. Prospects for commissions didn’t pan out, and he wrote the following note to the oldest publishing house in Germany, Breitkopf & Härtel:

“In the hope that my name is not wholly unknown to you, I am venturing to ask whether you would be disposed to take over at a moderate price some of my compositions, for I very much want to become as well-known as possible in Germany. Your selection could be made from the following: songs, strings quartets, piano sonatas, etc. etc. Signed, Franz Schubert, Auf der Wieden #100, in Frühwirth’s house, fifth staircase, second floor — Vienna”

The publishing firm responded with a proposal to try out one or two of Schubert’s piano pieces, but as payment only offered him free copies of the printed music. Schubert was definitely not “as well-known as possible” in Germany, and nine years earlier, when he submitted his now-famous setting of Goethe’s poem, “The Erl King” to Breitkopf and Härtel, they confused him with another composer named Franz Schubert who lived in Dresden.

Franz Schubert (1795-1828): String Quartet No. 15; Emerson String Quartet; DG 459 151

American composer Joan Tower says explaining her music is “sheer torture for me.” Understandably, she prefers to let her music speak for itself, and many of her works have simple, generic titles like Piano Concerto or Concerto for Orchestra.

But audiences generally prefer more evocative titles, and on more than one occasion Tower has provided them. On today’s date in 1985, the Florida Orchestra premiered Island Rhythms, a celebratory work by Tower commissioned for the opening of Tampa’s Harbour Island. Tower suggested that Caribbean music influenced the livelier outer sections of her new piece, and its central, slower section evoked the image of an underwater swimmer rising slowly but steadily towards the light.

For the St. Louis Symphony’s oboist, Peter Bowman, Tower composed Island Prelude for solo oboe and orchestra in 1989. When pressed to describe what sort of “island” she had in mind, Tower replied with her usual poetic eloquence: “The island is remote, lush and tropical with stretches of white beach interspersed with thick green jungle. Above is a large, powerful and brightly colored bird which soars and glides, … in complete harmony with its island home.”

Joan Tower (b. 1938): Island Rhythms; Louisville Orchestra; Lawrence Leighton Smith, conductor; Louisville 6

Joan Tower (b. 1938): Island Prelude; Peter Bowman, oboe; Saint Louis Symphony; Leonard Slatkin, conductor; Nonesuch 79245

Interest in the life of the Mexican artist Frida Kahlo has been on the rise since her death in 1954, so it’s not surprising that in 1991 she became the subject of the opera Frida, by American composer Robert Xavier Rodriguez, who was born in San Antonio on today’s date in 1946.

Like Kahlo’s paintings, Rodriguez’ opera evokes Mexican folk traditions. As a composer, Rodriguez says he strives “to show how it feels to be alive … I’m also impatient with music that doesn’t laugh — or at least smile — as much as it weeps, sulks, or gnashes its teeth.”

Rodriguez also has a wicked sense of humor, and perhaps even a sweet tooth: one of his works is titled Hot Buttered Rumba and another, a setting of texts from a cookbook, is titled Praline and Fudge.

Another Rodriguez opera, Tango, is based on newspaper clippings circa 1914, documenting both the dance’s wild popularity and serious attempts in Boston and Rome to have it banned. In one scene, Cardinal Basilio Pompili, Vicar of Rome, delivers a thunderous sermon denouncing the tango — but getting caught up in the tango spirit, starts dancing it in spite of himself.

Robert Xavier Rodriguez (b. 1946): Frida and Tango Suites; Voices of Change; Robert Xavier Rodriguez, conductor; CRI 824

No four notes in classical music are more familiar than those that open Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. Their powerful psychological resonance has often extended beyond music into overtly political contexts.

For example, on today’s date in 1941, the British Broadcasting Company began using those notes as a theme for radio shows beamed across Europe to boost morale during World War II. In Morse Code, the “dit-dit-dit-DAH” that opens the symphony stood for the letter “V,” which in turn stood for “victory.” At the end of the war, in celebratory radio concerts on V-E Day and V-J Day, Arturo Toscanini conducted performances of Beethoven’s Symphonies No. 5 and No. 3.

Some decades later, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 was performed at the end of the Cold War, when, after the fall of the Berlin Wall, Leonard Bernstein conducted moving performances in East and West Berlin utilizing an orchestra with members drawn from Eastern and Western Europe, Israel and the U.S.

For those performances, which were recorded and broadcast around the world, Bernstein asked the chorus to substitute the word “freiheit” (freedom) for the word “freude” (joy) in the choral setting of Schiller’s poem, Ode to Joy, which closes Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9.

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827): Symphony No. 5 & Symphony No. 9; Vienna Philharmonic; Simon Rattle, conductor; EMI 57445