Three Female Composers in Early American Music

In the rich and often under-explored history of American classical music, three composers—Amy Beach, Margaret Ruthven Lang, and Helen Hopekirk—stand out not just for their talent, but for their perseverance and presence in a field still finding its voice in the 19th century.

Amy Marcy Cheney Beach, born in 1867, was the first successful American woman composer of large-scale art music. Her Gaelic Symphony, performed by the Boston Symphony Orchestra in 1896, was a milestone—the first symphony by an American woman to be both composed and published. A gifted pianist, Beach gave acclaimed performances of her own works both in the United States and Germany, and notably achieved success without formal training in Europe—an extraordinary accomplishment for the time.

RUTHVEN LANG - BEACH - HOPEKIRK

Margaret Ruthven Lang, also born in 1867, came from a home steeped in music. Her father, B. J. Lang, was deeply involved in Boston’s musical life and a friend of Liszt and Wagner. Margaret composed more than 200 songs, many of which were widely performed and published. Her Dramatic Overture, premiered by the Boston Symphony Orchestra in 1893, marked another historic first—the first orchestral work by a woman to be performed by that institution.

Helen Hopekirk, born in Edinburgh in 1856, came to the U.S. following successful concert tours in Europe. She taught piano at the New England Conservatory, performed with the Boston Symphony, and gave the American premiere of Schumann’s Concertstück. Hopekirk composed piano works, chamber music, and songs with an elegance and clarity shaped by her training in Leipzig, Vienna, and Prague.

Available recordings on Apple Music

These women three female composers were not a collective. They did not form a school. But each, in her own way, contributed to the emergence of an American musical voice—at a time when the concert stage still overwhelmingly favored European composers. Their achievements, once celebrated, have largely slipped from the public imagination.

Telling their story is not about correcting a record, but about listening again. With fresh ears. Without urgency or agenda. Simply because the music—and the lives behind it—are worth remembering.