SKU: PR.110418370

ISBN 9781491135075. UPC: 680160686247.

Composed as an organ solo by the 17-year-old Ives for his own performance purposes, the beloved Variations on America is a treat for any occasion, whether a holiday concert, a serious recital, or other special event. Danny Holt’s transcription for Piano, Four Hands adds a dazzling new option to play at home or on stage, taking best advantage of Ives’ tremendous contrasts in color, dynamics, and texture.
Composed when Charles Ives was a teenager, Variations on “America” is both a convenient introduction to Ives’ body of work, and an early example of his iconoclastic musical voice and creative genius. Just a few years after composing this piece, Ives would leave home to study music at Yale. But until then he had been taught by his father, George (who had been a bandmaster in the Civil War). George subjected the young Ives to experiments such as singing a song in one key while being accompanied in another, or arranging for two marching bands to converge on a town center, with the resulting cacophony that ensued.The Variations exemplifies an early period of experimentation in Ives’ work, spurred on by the unusual pedagogy of his father. The piece is particularly notable for its use of bitonality in the two interludes, subtly foreshadowing more well-known examples by Stravinsky, Bartók, and others by approximately two decades.The bitonal interludes were so ahead of their time, in fact, they were omitted from the first copy that was submitted to a publisher in 1892. (Alas, the piece was rejected even despite these “shocking” elements having been left out, and it wasn’t published until more than five decades later.) There is some ambiguity about when exactly Ives added the interludes into his manuscript copy, though ample evidence suggests he had performed the piece with the interludes around the time he notated the piece in 1891-92. In any case, in light of this piece and his other polytonal explorations from the last decade of the 19th century, it seems fair to give Ives credit for being a pioneer in this area!This arrangement for Piano, Four Hands, closely follows Ives’ original version for organ, setting aside William Schuman’s popular adaptation for symphony orchestra and William Rhoads’ band transcription of the Schuman orchestration. Pianists will find that the piece translates well to the instrument. Ideally, the choreography and logistics of elbow-to-elbow four-hands playing approximates the wild joy one gets from watching an organist play the piece (e.g., the elaborate pedal part in the final variation).In preparing this publication, attention was paid to details in the dual Critical Editions (Presser 443-41003) of both Ives’ manuscript edition and the 1949 publication edited by organist E. Power Biggs (who is credited with discovering what had been a long-lost, forgotten work.) But as with much of Ives’ output, attempting to create a true ‘urtext’ score is a futile endeavor, and especially with a piece such as this one – in which Ives incorporated improvisation in live performance – seems unnecessary anyhow. True die-hards are of course encouraged to consult the critical editions and even find inspiration in the orchestrated version. Generally, performers are advised to be wild, have fun, and not to be too rigid in their interpretive choices.Dynamics in this arrangement mostly follow the organ score closely. Pianists will use good judgment about pedaling throughout, which should be straightforward and intuitive. Courtesy accidentals have been provided frequently – without parentheses – balancing the need for extra clarity in the context of Ives’ murky musical language, and a desire to avoid unnecessary clutter.A few notes that might inform interpretive decisions:mm. 15-16: There are inconsistencies here between Ives’ original manuscript and the 1949 Biggs edition, regarding the top voice in m. 15, beat 3 (C# vs. Cn) and m. 16 (D Major vs. D Minor).mm. 76-84 & 143-146: In both Interludes, Ives emphatically notates extreme dynamic contrast, in order to highlight the bitonality. Although it may seem counterintuitive (or even a misprint, as has apparently been misconstrued by some), performers are urged to follow the composer’s marking!m. 109: Two-note slurs have been added here for clarity and consistency with other similar passages, though they do not appear in either the original manuscript or Biggs.m. 112: The last two eighth notes of Primo appear as 16ths in the original manuscript.mm. 183-186: The original manuscript has a slightly different bass line.mm. 184 & 186: Primo gestures have been re-written to be slightly more idiomatic for Piano, Four Hands.m. 186: The breath mark at the end of this bar does not appear in either the manuscript or Biggs, but is an editorial suggestion – aside from being appropriately dramatic, it will indeed be necessary in a reverberant hall!I would like to thank Steven Vanhauwaert, the other half of my piano duo, 4handsLA, for his input on early drafts of this arrangement.— Danny Holt, April 2022.

SKU: PR.16400212S

UPC: 680160037605.

Works of chamber music including flute and strings are not nearly as numerous as those for clarinet, or even the oboe. Probably the reason for this is the less assertive, more pure tone the flute possesses - it can't compete for volume or range with the clarinet, except in its top octave, and the oboe's tone is more penetrating and easily discerned from within a string texture. Consequently, composers who have written for flute and strings have done so in lightweight divertimento works: compare, for instance, the delicate flute quartets of Mozart with his monumental quintet for clarinet and strings.   When Karl and Joan Karber approached me with the ideas of writing a work for flute and string trio, I originally thought it would be best to write a humorous, rather offhand piece - but a look at their repertoire (mostly comprised of smaller works of the Rococo period) convinced me that it was the last thing they needed. In spite of the challenge (or maybe because of it?), I determined to write a large work, and a serious work. Zephyrus (named for the God of the West Wind, in deference to the flute) is a three-movement work, with each movement cast in a very different form, but all three being built of the same twelve-note series. There is also a rhythmic motive and a pair of themes that appear in all three movements.   The first movement plays with the idea of contrast and persuasion. The flute, at the outset, is the hell-for-leather protagonist, charging and swooping around the strings - who seem oddly unconcerned by his passion. Indeed, they have a more somber song to sing - and as the movement unfolds, the flute becomes less and less active, while the strings become increasingly enlivened. By the midpoint, when all four instruments are finally in the same meter and the same tempo, the flute's energy has finally infected the other three players, and this energy does not let up until the movement's abrupt final cadence.   The second movement begins with a tag from the first - as if the energy left over was too great to simply stop. At length, though, a very poignant flute melody appears over an almost bluesy harmony in the strings. After this has been fully exposed, a slight increase in motion, marked gently rocking in triplets, features a theme-fragment from Leonard Bernstein's Symphony No. 2 (Kaddish). Bernstein died as I was writing this work, and it seemed quite natural to encourage what was already implicit in the music, and create an Elegy for L.B. The music rises and peaks, then in the recapitulation of the opening the Kaddish theme reappears, as the ensemble suggests a gentle song of sleep.   The final movement is a Rondo-Variations form, with the slight alteration of adding the main theme of the second movement in what would be the trio of the form. The ritornello theme is a kind of ethnic dance music, almost an allusion to the Klezmer ensembles of Eastern Europe. The successive episodes between the ritornelli are loosely organized variations on the basic theme, but always beginning with a metric modulation, a rhythmic changing of gears. The movement reaches and apex of speed and furious pulsing, then abruptly pirouttes, and finishes.   Zephyrus was written between April and November of 1990 in Austin, Aspen, and Honolulu, and is dedicated to Karl Kraber and The Chamber Soloists of Austin. --Dan Welcher.