SKU: CF.PL1056

ISBN 9781491153390. UPC: 680160910892. Transcribed by Franz Liszt.

Introduction It is true that Schubert himself is somewhat to blame for the very unsatisfactory manner in which his admirable piano pieces are treated. He was too immoderately productive, wrote incessantly, mixing insignificant with important things, grand things with mediocre work, paid no heed to criticism, and always soared on his wings. Like a bird in the air, he lived in music and sang in angelic fashion. --Franz Liszt, letter to Dr. S. Lebert (1868) Of those compositions that greatly interest me, there are only Chopin's and yours. --Franz Liszt, letter to Robert Schumann (1838) She [Clara Schumann] was astounded at hearing me. Her compositions are really very remarkable, especially for a woman. There is a hundred times more creativity and real feeling in them than in all the past and present fantasias by Thalberg. --Franz Liszt, letter to Marie d'Agoult (1838) Chretien Urhan (1790-1845) was a Belgian-born violinist, organist and composer who flourished in the musical life of Paris in the early nineteenth century. According to various accounts, he was deeply religious, harshly ascetic and wildly eccentric, though revered by many important and influential members of the Parisian musical community. Regrettably, history has forgotten Urhan's many musical achievements, the most important of which was arguably his pioneering work in promoting the music of Franz Schubert. He devoted much of his energies to championing Schubert's music, which at the time was unknown outside of Vienna. Undoubtedly, Urhan was responsible for stimulating this enthusiasm in Franz Liszt; Liszt regularly heard Urhan's organ playing in the St.-Vincent-de-Paul church in Paris, and the two became personal acquaintances. At eighteen years of age, Liszt was on the verge of establishing himself as the foremost pianist in Europe, and this awakening to Schubert's music would prove to be a profound experience. Liszt's first travels outside of his native provincial Hungary were to Vienna in 1821-1823, where his father enrolled him in studies with Carl Czerny (piano) and Antonio Salieri (music theory). Both men had important involvements with Schubert; Czerny (like Urhan) as performer and advocate of Schubert's music and Salieri as his theory and composition teacher from 1813-1817. Curiously, Liszt and Schubert never met personally, despite their geographical proximity in Vienna during these years. Inevitably, legends later arose that the two had been personal acquaintances, although Liszt would dismiss these as fallacious: I never knew Schubert personally, he was once quoted as saying. Liszt's initial exposure to Schubert's music was the Lieder, what Urhan prized most of all. He accompanied the tenor Benedict Randhartinger in numerous performances of Schubert's Lieder and then, perhaps realizing that he could benefit the composer more on his own terms, transcribed a number of the Lieder for piano solo. Many of these transcriptions he would perform himself on concert tour during the so-called Glanzzeit, or time of splendor from 1839-1847. This publicity did much to promote reception of Schubert's music throughout Europe. Once Liszt retired from the concert stage and settled in Weimar as a conductor in the 1840s, he continued to perform Schubert's orchestral music, his Symphony No. 9 being a particular favorite, and is credited with giving the world premiere performance of Schubert's opera Alfonso und Estrella in 1854. At this time, he contemplated writing a biography of the composer, which regrettably remained uncompleted. Liszt's devotion to Schubert would never waver. Liszt's relationship with Robert and Clara Schumann was far different and far more complicated; by contrast, they were all personal acquaintances. What began as a relationship of mutual respect and admiration soon deteriorated into one of jealousy and hostility, particularly on the Schumann's part. Liszt's initial contact with Robert's music happened long before they had met personally, when Liszt published an analysis of Schumann's piano music for the Gazette musicale in 1837, a gesture that earned Robert's deep appreciation. In the following year Clara met Liszt during a concert tour in Vienna and presented him with more of Schumann's piano music. Clara and her father Friedrich Wieck, who accompanied Clara on her concert tours, were quite taken by Liszt: We have heard Liszt. He can be compared to no other player...he arouses fright and astonishment. His appearance at the piano is indescribable. He is an original...he is absorbed by the piano. Liszt, too, was impressed with Clara--at first the energy, intelligence and accuracy of her piano playing and later her compositions--to the extent that he dedicated to her the 1838 version of his Etudes d'execution transcendante d'apres Paganini. Liszt had a closer personal relationship with Clara than with Robert until the two men finally met in 1840. Schumann was astounded by Liszt's piano playing. He wrote to Clara that Liszt had played like a god and had inspired indescribable furor of applause. His review of Liszt even included a heroic personification with Napoleon. In Leipzig, Schumann was deeply impressed with Liszt's interpretations of his Noveletten, Op. 21 and Fantasy in C Major, Op. 17 (dedicated to Liszt), enthusiastically observing that, I feel as if I had known you twenty years. Yet a variety of events followed that diminished Liszt's glory in the eyes of the Schumanns. They became critical of the cult-like atmosphere that arose around his recitals, or Lisztomania as it came to be called; conceivably, this could be attributed to professional jealousy. Clara, in particular, came to loathe Liszt, noting in a letter to Joseph Joachim, I despise Liszt from the depths of my soul. She recorded a stunning diary entry a day after Liszt's death, in which she noted, He was an eminent keyboard virtuoso, but a dangerous example for the young...As a composer he was terrible. By contrast, Liszt did not share in these negative sentiments; no evidence suggests that he had any ill-regard for the Schumanns. In Weimar, he did much to promote Schumann's music, conducting performances of his Scenes from Faust and Manfred, during a time in which few orchestras expressed interest, and premiered his opera Genoveva. He later arranged a benefit concert for Clara following Robert's death, featuring Clara as soloist in Robert's Piano Concerto, an event that must have been exhilarating to witness. Regardless, her opinion of him would never change, despite his repeated gestures of courtesy and respect. Liszt's relationship with Schubert was a spiritual one, with music being the one and only link between the two men. That with the Schumanns was personal, with music influenced by a hero worship that would aggravate the relationship over time. Nonetheless, Liszt would remain devoted to and enthusiastic for the music and achievements of these composers. He would be a vital force in disseminating their music to a wider audience, as he would be with many other composers throughout his career. His primary means for accomplishing this was the piano transcription. Liszt and the Transcription Transcription versus Paraphrase Transcription and paraphrase were popular terms in nineteenth-century music, although certainly not unique to this period. Musicians understood that there were clear distinctions between these two terms, but as is often the case these distinctions could be blurred. Transcription, literally writing over, entails reworking or adapting a piece of music for a performance medium different from that of its original; arrangement is a possible synonym. Adapting is a key part of this process, for the success of a transcription relies on the transcriber's ability to adapt the piece to the different medium. As a result, the pre-existing material is generally kept intact, recognizable and intelligible; it is strict, literal, objective. Contextual meaning is maintained in the process, as are elements of style and form. Paraphrase, by contrast, implies restating something in a different manner, as in a rewording of a document for reasons of clarity. In nineteenth-century music, paraphrasing indicated elaborating a piece for purposes of expressive virtuosity, often as a vehicle for showmanship. Variation is an important element, for the source material may be varied as much as the paraphraser's imagination will allow; its purpose is metamorphosis. Transcription is adapting and arranging; paraphrasing is transforming and reworking. Transcription preserves the style of the original; paraphrase absorbs the original into a different style. Transcription highlights the original composer; paraphrase highlights the paraphraser. Approximately half of Liszt's compositional output falls under the category of transcription and paraphrase; it is noteworthy that he never used the term arrangement. Much of his early compositional activities were transcriptions and paraphrases of works of other composers, such as the symphonies of Beethoven and Berlioz, vocal music by Schubert, and operas by Donizetti and Bellini. It is conceivable that he focused so intently on work of this nature early in his career as a means to perfect his compositional technique, although transcription and paraphrase continued well after the technique had been mastered; this might explain why he drastically revised and rewrote many of his original compositions from the 1830s (such as the Transcendental Etudes and Paganini Etudes) in the 1850s. Charles Rosen, a sympathetic interpreter of Liszt's piano works, observes, The new revisions of the Transcendental Etudes are not revisions but concert paraphrases of the old, and their art lies in the technique of transformation. The Paganini etudes are piano transcriptions of violin etudes, and the Transcendental Etudes are piano transcriptions of piano etudes. The principles are the same. He concludes by noting, Paraphrase has shaded off into composition...Composition and paraphrase were not identical for him, but they were so closely interwoven that separation is impossible. The significance of transcription and paraphrase for Liszt the composer cannot be overstated, and the mutual influence of each needs to be better understood. Undoubtedly, Liszt the composer as we know him today would be far different had he not devoted so much of his career to transcribing and paraphrasing the music of others. He was perhaps one of the first composers to contend that transcription and paraphrase could be genuine art forms on equal par with original pieces; he even claimed to be the first to use these two terms to describe these classes of arrangements. Despite the success that Liszt achieved with this type of work, others viewed it with circumspection and criticism. Robert Schumann, although deeply impressed with Liszt's keyboard virtuosity, was harsh in his criticisms of the transcriptions. Schumann interpreted them as indicators that Liszt's virtuosity had hindered his compositional development and suggested that Liszt transcribed the music of others to compensate for his own compositional deficiencies. Nonetheless, Liszt's piano transcriptions, what he sometimes called partitions de piano (or piano scores), were instrumental in promoting composers whose music was unknown at the time or inaccessible in areas outside of major European capitals, areas that Liszt willingly toured during his Glanzzeit. To this end, the transcriptions had to be literal arrangements for the piano; a Beethoven symphony could not be introduced to an unknowing audience if its music had been subjected to imaginative elaborations and variations. The same would be true of the 1833 transcription of Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique (composed only three years earlier), the astonishingly novel content of which would necessitate a literal and intelligible rendering. Opera, usually more popular and accessible for the general public, was a different matter, and in this realm Liszt could paraphrase the original and manipulate it as his imagination would allow without jeopardizing its reception; hence, the paraphrases on the operas of Bellini, Donizetti, Mozart, Meyerbeer and Verdi. Reminiscence was another term coined by Liszt for the opera paraphrases, as if the composer were reminiscing at the keyboard following a memorable evening at the opera. Illustration (reserved on two occasions for Meyerbeer) and fantasy were additional terms. The operas of Wagner were exceptions. His music was less suited to paraphrase due to its general lack of familiarity at the time. Transcription of Wagner's music was thus obligatory, as it was of Beethoven's and Berlioz's music; perhaps the composer himself insisted on this approach. Liszt's Lieder Transcriptions Liszt's initial encounters with Schubert's music, as mentioned previously, were with the Lieder. His first transcription of a Schubert Lied was Die Rose in 1833, followed by Lob der Tranen in 1837. Thirty-nine additional transcriptions appeared at a rapid pace over the following three years, and in 1846, the Schubert Lieder transcriptions would conclude, by which point he had completed fifty-eight, the most of any composer. Critical response to these transcriptions was highly favorable--aside from the view held by Schumann--particularly when Liszt himself played these pieces in concert. Some were published immediately by Anton Diabelli, famous for the theme that inspired Beethoven's variations. Others were published by the Viennese publisher Tobias Haslinger (one of Beethoven's and Schubert's publishers in the 1820s), who sold his reserves so quickly that he would repeatedly plead for more. However, Liszt's enthusiasm for work of this nature soon became exhausted, as he noted in a letter of 1839 to the publisher Breitkopf und Hartel: That good Haslinger overwhelms me with Schubert. I have just sent him twenty-four new songs (Schwanengesang and Winterreise), and for the moment I am rather tired of this work. Haslinger was justified in his demands, for the Schubert transcriptions were received with great enthusiasm. One Gottfried Wilhelm Fink, then editor of the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, observed of these transcriptions: Nothing in recent memory has caused such sensation and enjoyment in both pianists and audiences as these arrangements...The demand for them has in no way been satisfied; and it will not be until these arrangements are seen on pianos everywhere. They have indeed made quite a splash. Eduard Hanslick, never a sympathetic critic of Liszt's music, acknowledged thirty years after the fact that, Liszt's transcriptions of Schubert Lieder were epoch-making. There was hardly a concert in which Liszt did not have to play one or two of them--even when they were not listed on the program. These transcriptions quickly became some of his most sough-after pieces, despite their extreme technical demands. Leading pianists of the day, such as Clara Wieck and Sigismond Thalberg, incorporated them into their concert programs immediately upon publication. Moreover, the transcriptions would serve as inspirations for other composers, such as Stephen Heller, Cesar Franck and later Leopold Godowsky, all of whom produced their own transcriptions of Schubert's Lieder. Liszt would transcribe the Lieder of other composers as well, including those by Mendelssohn, Chopin, Anton Rubinstein and even himself. Robert Schumann, of course, would not be ignored. The first transcription of a Schumann Lied was the celebrated Widmung from Myrten in 1848, the only Schumann transcription that Liszt completed during the composer's lifetime. (Regrettably, there is no evidence of Schumann's regard of this transcription, or even if he was aware of it.) From the years 1848-1881, Liszt transcribed twelve of Robert Schumann's Lieder (including one orchestral Lied) and three of Clara (one from each of her three published Lieder cycles); he would transcribe no other works of these two composers. The Schumann Lieder transcriptions, contrary to those of Schubert, are literal arrangements, posing, in general, far fewer demands on the pianist's technique. They are comparatively less imaginative in their treatment of the original material. Additionally, they seem to have been less valued in their day than the Schubert transcriptions, and it is noteworthy that none of the Schumann transcriptions bear dedications, as most of the Schubert transcriptions do. The greatest challenge posed by Lieder transcriptions, regardless of the composer or the nature of the transcription, was to combine the vocal and piano parts of the original such that the character of each would be preserved, a challenge unique to this form of transcription. Each part had to be intact and aurally recognizable, the vocal line in particular. Complications could be manifold in a Lied that featured dissimilar parts, such as Schubert's Auf dem Wasser zu singen, whose piano accompaniment depicts the rocking of the boat on the shimmering waves while the vocal line reflects on the passing of time. Similar complications would be encountered in Gretchen am Spinnrade, in which the ubiquitous sixteenth-note pattern in the piano's right hand epitomizes the ever-turning spinning wheel over which the soprano voice expresses feelings of longing and heartache. The resulting transcriptions for solo piano would place exceptional demands on the pianist. The complications would be far less imposing in instances in which voice and piano were less differentiated, as in many of Schumann's Lieder that Liszt transcribed. The piano parts in these Lieder are true accompaniments for the voice, providing harmonic foundation and rhythmic support by doubling the vocal line throughout. The transcriptions, thus, are strict and literal, with far fewer demands on both pianist and transcriber. In all of Liszt's Lieder transcriptions, regardless of the way in which the two parts are combined, the melody (i.e. the vocal line) is invariably the focal point; the melody should sing on the piano, as if it were the voice. The piano part, although integral to contributing to the character of the music, is designed to function as accompaniment. A singing melody was a crucial objective in nineteenth-century piano performance, which in part might explain the zeal in transcribing and paraphrasing vocal music for the piano. Friedrich Wieck, father and teacher of Clara Schumann, stressed this point repeatedly in his 1853 treatise Clavier und Gesang (Piano and Song): When I speak in general of singing, I refer to that species of singing which is a form of beauty, and which is a foundation for the most refined and most perfect interpretation of music; and, above all things, I consider the culture of beautiful tones the basis for the finest possible touch on the piano. In many respects, the piano and singing should explain and supplement each other. They should mutually assist in expressing the sublime and the noble, in forms of unclouded beauty. Much of Liszt's piano music should be interpreted with this concept in mind, the Lieder transcriptions and opera paraphrases, in particular. To this end, Liszt provided numerous written instructions to the performer to emphasize the vocal line in performance, with Italian directives such as un poco marcato il canto, accentuato assai il canto and ben pronunziato il canto. Repeated indications of cantando,singend and espressivo il canto stress the significance of the singing tone. As an additional means of achieving this and providing the performer with access to the poetry, Liszt insisted, at what must have been a publishing novelty at the time, on printing the words of the Lied in the music itself. Haslinger, seemingly oblivious to Liszt's intent, initially printed the poems of the early Schubert transcriptions separately inside the front covers. Liszt argued that the transcriptions must be reprinted with the words underlying the notes, exactly as Schubert had done, a request that was honored by printing the words above the right-hand staff. Liszt also incorporated a visual scheme for distinguishing voice and accompaniment, influenced perhaps by Chopin, by notating the accompaniment in cue size. His transcription of Robert Schumann's Fruhlings Ankunft features the vocal line in normal size, the piano accompaniment in reduced size, an unmistakable guide in a busy texture as to which part should be emphasized: Example 1. Schumann-Liszt Fruhlings Ankunft, mm. 1-2. The same practice may be found in the transcription of Schumann's An die Turen will ich schleichen. In this piece, the performer must read three staves, in which the baritone line in the central staff is to be shared between the two hands based on the stem direction of the notes: Example 2. Schumann-Liszt An die Turen will ich schleichen, mm. 1-5. This notational practice is extremely beneficial in this instance, given the challenge of reading three staves and the manner in which the vocal line is performed by the two hands. Curiously, Liszt did not use this practice in other transcriptions. Approaches in Lieder Transcription Liszt adopted a variety of approaches in his Lieder transcriptions, based on the nature of the source material, the ways in which the vocal and piano parts could be combined and the ways in which the vocal part could sing. One approach, common with strophic Lieder, in which the vocal line would be identical in each verse, was to vary the register of the vocal part. The transcription of Lob der Tranen, for example, incorporates three of the four verses of the original Lied, with the register of the vocal line ascending one octave with each verse (from low to high), as if three different voices were participating. By the conclusion, the music encompasses the entire range of Liszt's keyboard to produce a stunning climactic effect, and the variety of register of the vocal line provides a welcome textural variety in the absence of the words. The three verses of the transcription of Auf dem Wasser zu singen follow the same approach, in which the vocal line ascends from the tenor, to the alto and to the soprano registers with each verse. Fruhlingsglaube adopts the opposite approach, in which the vocal line descends from soprano in verse 1 to tenor in verse 2, with the second part of verse 2 again resuming the soprano register; this is also the case in Das Wandern from Mullerlieder. Gretchen am Spinnrade posed a unique problem. Since the poem's narrator is female, and the poem represents an expression of her longing for her lover Faust, variation of the vocal line's register, strictly speaking, would have been impractical. For this reason, the vocal line remains in its original register throughout, relentlessly colliding with the sixteenth-note pattern of the accompaniment. One exception may be found in the fifth and final verse in mm. 93-112, at which point the vocal line is notated in a higher register and doubled in octaves. This sudden textural change, one that is readily audible, was a strategic means to underscore Gretchen's mounting anxiety (My bosom urges itself toward him. Ah, might I grasp and hold him! And kiss him as I would wish, at his kisses I should die!). The transcription, thus, becomes a vehicle for maximizing the emotional content of the poem, an exceptional undertaking with the general intent of a transcription. Registral variation of the vocal part also plays a crucial role in the transcription of Erlkonig. Goethe's poem depicts the death of a child who is apprehended by a supernatural Erlking, and Schubert, recognizing the dramatic nature of the poem, carefully depicted the characters (father, son and Erlking) through unique vocal writing and accompaniment patterns: the Lied is a dramatic entity. Liszt, in turn, followed Schubert's characterization in this literal transcription, yet took it an additional step by placing the register of the father's vocal line in the baritone range, that of the son in the soprano range and that of the Erlking in the highest register, options that would not have been available in the version for voice and piano. Additionally, Liszt labeled each appearance of each character in the score, a means for guiding the performer in interpreting the dramatic qualities of the Lied. As a result, the drama and energy of the poem are enhanced in this transcription; as with Gretchen am Spinnrade, the transcriber has maximized the content of the original. Elaboration may be found in certain Lieder transcriptions that expand the performance to a level of virtuosity not found in the original; in such cases, the transcription approximates the paraphrase. Schubert's Du bist die Ruh, a paradigm of musical simplicity, features an uncomplicated piano accompaniment that is virtually identical in each verse. In Liszt's transcription, the material is subjected to a highly virtuosic treatment that far exceeds the original, including a demanding passage for the left hand alone in the opening measures and unique textural writing in each verse. The piece is a transcription in virtuosity; its art, as Rosen noted, lies in the technique of transformation. Elaboration may entail an expansion of the musical form, as in the extensive introduction to Die Forelle and a virtuosic middle section (mm. 63-85), both of which are not in the original. Also unique to this transcription are two cadenzas that Liszt composed in response to the poetic content. The first, in m. 93 on the words und eh ich es gedacht (and before I could guess it), features a twisted chromatic passage that prolongs and thereby heightens the listener's suspense as to the fate of the trout (which is ultimately caught). The second, in m. 108 on the words Betrogne an (and my blood boiled as I saw the betrayed one), features a rush of diminished-seventh arpeggios in both hands, epitomizing the poet's rage at the fisherman for catching the trout. Less frequent are instances in which the length of the original Lied was shortened in the transcription, a tendency that may be found with certain strophic Lieder (e.g., Der Leiermann, Wasserflut and Das Wandern). Another transcription that demonstrates Liszt's readiness to modify the original in the interests of the poetic content is Standchen, the seventh transcription from Schubert's Schwanengesang. Adapted from Act II of Shakespeare's Cymbeline, the poem represents the repeated beckoning of a man to his lover. Liszt transformed the Lied into a miniature drama by transcribing the vocal line of the first verse in the soprano register, that of the second verse in the baritone register, in effect, creating a dialogue between the two lovers. In mm. 71-102, the dialogue becomes a canon, with one voice trailing the other like an echo (as labeled in the score) at the distance of a beat. As in other instances, the transcription resembles the paraphrase, and it is perhaps for this reason that Liszt provided an ossia version that is more in the nature of a literal transcription. The ossia version, six measures shorter than Schubert's original, is less demanding technically than the original transcription, thus representing an ossia of transcription and an ossia of piano technique. The Schumann Lieder transcriptions, in general, display a less imaginative treatment of the source material. Elaborations are less frequently encountered, and virtuosity is more restricted, as if the passage of time had somewhat tamed the composer's approach to transcriptions; alternatively, Liszt was eager to distance himself from the fierce virtuosity of his early years. In most instances, these transcriptions are literal arrangements of the source material, with the vocal line in its original form combined with the accompaniment, which often doubles the vocal line in the original Lied. Widmung, the first of the Schumann transcriptions, is one exception in the way it recalls the virtuosity of the Schubert transcriptions of the 1830s. Particularly striking is the closing section (mm. 58-73), in which material of the opening verse (right hand) is combined with the triplet quarter notes (left hand) from the second section of the Lied (mm. 32-43), as if the transcriber were attempting to reconcile the different material of these two sections. Fruhlingsnacht resembles a paraphrase by presenting each of the two verses in differing registers (alto for verse 1, mm. 3-19, and soprano for verse 2, mm. 20-31) and by concluding with a virtuosic section that considerably extends the length of the original Lied. The original tonalities of the Lieder were generally retained in the transcriptions, showing that the tonality was an important part of the transcription process. The infrequent instances of transposition were done for specific reasons. In 1861, Liszt transcribed two of Schumann's Lieder, one from Op. 36 (An den Sonnenschein), another from Op. 27 (Dem roten Roslein), and merged these two pieces in the collection 2 Lieder; they share only the common tonality of A major. His choice for combining these two Lieder remains unknown, but he clearly recognized that some tonal variety would be needed, for which reason Dem roten Roslein was transposed to C>= major. The collection features An den Sonnenschein in A major (with a transition to the new tonality), followed by Dem roten Roslein in C>= major (without a change of key signature), and concluding with a reprise of An den Sonnenschein in A major. A three-part form was thus established with tonal variety provided by keys in third relations (A-C>=-A); in effect, two of Schumann's Lieder were transcribed into an archetypal song without words. In other instances, Liszt treated tonality and tonal organization as important structural ingredients, particularly in the transcriptions of Schubert's Lieder cycles, i.e. Schwanengesang, Winterreise a...

SKU: DY.DO-1522

ISBN 9782897963026.

Francis Bebey est né à Douala en juillet 1929, dans une grande famille où son père, pasteur, luttait pour nourrir ses enfants. Mais Francis a eu l'opportunité d'aller à l'école. Admirant son frère aîné, Marcel Eyidi Bebey, il s'est éduqué, s'est distingué, et a finalement reçu une bourse pour passer son baccalauréat en France.
Nous approchions de la fin des années 1950 lorsqu'il est arrivé à La Rochelle. Plus que jamais, dans cette France où les Africains étaient regardés avec curiosité, condescendance ou dédain, Francis s'appuyait sur ses ressources intellectuelles. Travailleur assidu, il a obtenu son baccalauréat, puis s'est installé à Paris où il a commencé des études d'anglais à la Sorbonne. Un jour, il a su ce qui l'attirait vraiment : il voulait faire de la radio. Francis a appris son métier en France et aux �tats-Unis.
Après avoir travaillé quelques années comme reporter, il a été embauché en 1961 en tant que fonctionnaire international au Département de l'information de l'UNESCO.
Parallèlement, Francis a toujours été attiré par la création musicale. Son activité diurne très sérieuse ne l'empêchait pas de fréquenter les clubs de jazz le soir. � Paris, le jazz, la musique à la mode à cette époque, mais aussi la rumba et la salsa l'attiraient. Il collectionnait les disques et assistait à de nombreux concerts. Avec son complice Manu Dibango, Francis montait sur scène et jouait de la musique.
Francis aimait la musique classique depuis son enfance. Il avait grandi en écoutant les cantates et les oratorios de Bach ou Handel que son père chantait au temple. Il s'est passionné pour la guitare, impressionné par les maîtres espagnols et sud-américains, et a décidé d'apprendre à jouer de l'instrument lui-même.
Il a commencé à composer des pièces pour guitare, mêlant les diverses influences qui le traversaient avec la musique traditionnelle africaine qu'il portait en lui depuis son enfance. Son approche a captivé le directeur du Centre culturel américain (alors situé dans le quartier de Saint-Germain à Paris), qui lui a offert l'opportunité de se produire devant un public. Francis y a donné son premier récital de guitare (1963) devant un public hypnotisé. Son premier album solo est sorti peu de temps après.
Progressivement, Francis est devenu reconnu comme musicien et compositeur. Plusieurs albums de l'ambassadeur africain de la guitare, comme le décrivait la presse, sont sortis. Il a également écrit des livres, au point que sa carrière artistique est devenue difficile à concilier avec sa carrière de fonctionnaire. En 1974, même s'il était devenu le directeur général chargé de la musique à l'UNESCO, il a fait le saut audacieux et a démissionné de cette prestigieuse institution pour se consacrer aux trois activités qui l'intéressaient : la musique, la littérature et le journalisme.
Il a exploré le patrimoine musical traditionnel du continent africain, notamment à travers le piano à pouce sanza et la musique polyphonique des pygmées d'Afrique centrale, ou en chantant dans sa langue maternelle et en composant des chansons humoristiques en français !
Le succès a suivi. Francis Bebey a parcouru le monde : de la France au Brésil, du Cameroun à la Suède, de l'Allemagne aux Caraïbes, ou du Maroc au Japon... la liste des pays où il a été invité à se produire, à donner des conférences ou à rencontrer des lecteurs est très longue. En plus de la reconnaissance publique, il bénéficiait de la reconnaissance de ses collègues musiciens, tels que le guitariste John Williams ou le Vénézuélien Antonio Lauro, qui l'ont invité à faire partie du jury d'un concours de guitare classique à Caracas.
Sa vie était le voyage d'un pionnier africain, un homme enraciné dans son patrimoine culturel et portant un message de partage et d'espoir pour le monde. Son originalité continue de résonner dans le monde entier depuis son décès à la fin du mois de mai 2001.

Francis Bebey was born in Douala in July 1929, into a large family where his father, a pastor, struggled to feed his children. But Francis had the opportunity to go to school. Admiring his elder brother, Marcel Eyidi Bebey, he educated himself, distinguished himself, and eventually received a scholarship to go and take his baccalaureate in France.
We approached the end of the 1950s when he arrived in La Rochelle. More than ever, in this France where Africans were looked at with curiosity, condescension, or disdain, Francis relied on his intellectual resources. A diligent worker, he obtained his Baccalaureate, then moved to Paris where he started English studies at the Sorbonne. One day, he knew what truly attracted him: he wanted to do radio. Francis learned his craft in France and in the USA.
After working for a few years as a reporter, he was hired in 1961 as an international civil servant in the UNESCO Information Department.
In parallel, Francis had always been drawn to musical creation. His very serious daytime activity didnâ??t prevent him from frequenting jazz clubs in the evenings. In Paris, the Jazz, the trendy music of that time, but also rumba and salsa attracted him. He collected records and attended numerous concerts. With his accomplice Manu Dibango, Francis took the stage and played music.
Francis liked classical music since his childhood. He grew up listening to the cantatas and oratorios of Bach or Handel that his father had sung in the temple. He became passionate about the guitar, impressed by the Spanish and South American masters, and decided to learn to strum the instrument himself.
He started composing guitar pieces, blending the various influences that flow through him with the traditional African music he had carried within since childhood. His approach captivated the director of the American Cultural Center (then located in the Saint-Germain neighborhood of Paris), who offered him the opportunity to perform in front of an audience. Francis gave his first guitar recital there (1963) in front of a mesmerized audience. His first solo album was released shortly thereafter.
Gradually, Francis became recognized as a musician and composer. Several albums of the African guitar ambassador, as described by the press, were released. He also wrote books, to the point that his artistic career became challenging to reconcile with his career as a civil servant. In 1974, even though he had become the General Manager in charge of music at UNESCO, he took the bold leap and resigned from this prestigious institution to dedicated himself to the three activities that interested him: music, literature, and journalism.
He explored the traditional musical heritage of the African continent, notably through the thumb piano sanza, and the polyphonic music of the Central African pygmies, or singing in his native language and composing humoristic songs in French!
Success followed. Francis Bebey traveled the world: from France to Brazil, Cameroon to Sweden, Germany to the Carribean, or Morocco to Japan... the list of countries where he was invited to perform, gives lectures, or meets readers is very long. In addition to public recognition, he enjoyed the recognition of his fellow musicians, such as guitarist John Williams or Venezuelan Antonio Lauro, who invited him to be a part of the jury for a classical guitar competition in Caracas.
His life was the journey of an African pioneer, a man rooted in his cultural heritage and carrying a message of sharing and hope for the world. His originality continues to vibrate around the world since his passing at the end of May 2001.

SKU: CF.CM9735

ISBN 9781491161159. UPC: 680160919741. Key: A minor. Latin, English. Christopher Smart and ZRS.

Origins of the Tarantella The tarantella is a popular southern Italian dance with origins in the 11th century. (There is even some mention of the tarantella in ancient Greek mythology.) Of the possible sources of the dance, the most popular comes from the villages of Tanto and Tarentum (little spider), Italy. During harvest, workers in the field were sometimes bitten by the tarantula spider. To combat the poison, the afflicted workers went into a frenetic, almost musical exorcism to sweat the venom out of their pores. In the millennium since, the very energetic nature of the dance has remained, although the curative focus of the dance has given way to more enjoyable endeavors, even stately courtship. Origins of the Text Christopher Smart (1722-1771), also known as Kit Smart or Jack Smart, was born in Kent, England and suffered from what is now believed to be acute asthma and other health issues as a child. As such, he did not work in the fields, but spent much time reading and writing, a passion that he nurtured for a lifetime. Well known in London literary circles, his career as a writer floundered due to mounting debts and his falling out of favor with the literary establishment: Sadly, he was forced to confinement at St. Luke's Hospital for Lunatics, though this was based on his mounting debt, and not on insanity. (Confinement, or debtor's prison, was common during this period if one's debts could not be paid.) During his confinement, he worked on two of his most famous works, Jubilate Agno and A Song of David. (Part of Jubilate Agno [Rejoice in the Lamb] was set to music by English composer, Benjamin Britten.) Smart's writing style (which, at times, bordered on the absurd), along with his many obsessions, lead to frequent misperceptions of his work and his lucidity. In this present work, portions of Smart's Jubilate Agno were used in mm. 24-31, 103-110 and 149-156. The remaining text was gathered by the composer, including the rapid, almost patter-like, delivery of words from A-Z in the alphabet. (Christopher Smart had a preoccupation with the alphabet.) These words both rhyme and accentuate the frenetic nature of the spider dance: theraphosa [teh-rah-fo-sa] a genus of tarantula spiders bellicose [beh-lee-ko-sah] hostile; aggressive odiosa [o-dee-o-sa] hateful; vexation tenebrosa [teh-neh-bro-sa] creeping; dark nemorosa [neh-mo-ro-sa] wooded; shady lapidosa [lah-pee-do-sa] stony area; gritty The convergence, then, of the medieval tarantella (spider dance), the writings of a brilliant poet who bordered on the absurd, and the infusion of strong, descriptive and otherwise random, rhyming words, synthesizes to make dramatic lyrics for this work. About the Composer Z. Randall Stroope is an American composer and conductor. He has served as Professor of Music at three universities (an Endowed Professor at two), conducted 47 all-state choirs, and directed over 40 times at Carnegie Hall, among other American venues. Randall guest conducts full-time, and composes from his home studios on Merritt Island, Florida and in Sandia Park, New Mexico. Performance Notes Text: In Latin, the r is flipped; use s instead of z on endings such as phosa, cosa, and so on; the Latin o is a cross between oh and aw; in the transliteration above, I chose to simply use an o for consistency. The director will blend the oh and aw in the rehearsals to his/her own preference. Lastly, tarantula is pronounced tah-rah-n-too-lah (avoid teh-ran-choo-luh) within the confines of this text. Stomp: This can be done by the entire chorus, or just the first row. It is as much visual as it is auditory. The string quartet is preferred over piano when that option affords itself. I created a piano score that is a viable option and included it in the piano/vocal score if a performance uses chorus/piano.
The tarantella is a popular southern Italian dance with origins in the 11th century. (There is even some mention of the tarantella in ancient Greek mythology.) Of the possible sources of the dance, the most popular comes from the villages of Tanto and Tarentum (“little spider”), Italy. During harvest, workers in the field were sometimes bitten by the tarantula spider. To combat the “poison,” the afflicted workers went into a frenetic, almost musical exorcism to sweat the venom out of their pores. In the millennium since, the very energetic nature of the dance has remained, although the curative focus of the dance has given way to more enjoyable endeavors, even stately courtship.Christopher Smart (1722-1771), also known as “Kit Smart” or “Jack Smart,” was born in Kent, England and suffered from what is now believed to be acute asthma and other health issues as a child. As such, he did not work in the fields, but spent much time reading and writing, a passion that he nurtured for a lifetime. Well known in London literary circles, his career as a writer floundered due to mounting debts and his falling out of favor with the literary establishment: Sadly, he was forced to confinement at St. Luke’s Hospital for Lunatics, though this was based on his mounting debt, and not on insanity. (Confinement, or debtor’s prison, was common during this period if one’s debts could not be paid.) During his confinement, he worked on two of his most famous works, Jubilate Agno and A Song of David. (Part of Jubilate Agno [“Rejoice in the Lamb”] was set to music by English composer, Benjamin Britten.) Smart’s writing style (which, at times, bordered on the absurd), along with his many obsessions, lead to frequent misperceptions of his work and his lucidity. In this present work, portions of Smart’s Jubilate Agno were used in mm. 24-31, 103-110 and 149-156. The remaining text was gathered by the composer, including the rapid, almost patter-like, delivery of words from A-Z in the alphabet. (Christopher Smart had a preoccupation with the alphabet.) These words both rhyme and accentuate the frenetic nature of the spider dance:The convergence, then, of the medieval tarantella (spider dance), the writings of a brilliant poet who bordered on the absurd, and the infusion of strong, descriptive and otherwise random, rhyming words, synthesizes to make dramatic lyrics for this work.Z. Randall Stroope is an American composer and conductor. He has served as Professor of Music at three universities (an Endowed Professor at two), conducted 47 all-state choirs, and directed over 40 times at Carnegie Hall, among other American venues. Randall guest conducts full-time, and composes from his home studios on Merritt Island, Florida and in Sandia Park, New Mexico. In Latin, the “r” is flipped; use “s” instead of “z” on endings such as “phosa,” “cosa,” and so on; the Latin “o” is a cross between “oh” and “aw”; in the transliteration above, I chose to simply use an “o” for consistency. The director will blend the “oh” and “aw” in the rehearsals to his/her own preference. Lastly, “tarantula” is pronounced “tah-rah-n-too-lah” (avoid “teh-ran-choo-luh”) within the confines of this text.Stomp: This can be done by the entire chorus, or just the first row. It is as much visual as it is auditory. The string quartet is preferred over piano when that option affords itself. I created a piano score that is a viable option and included it in the piano/vocal score if a performance uses chorus/piano.
The tarantella is a popular southern Italian dance with origins in the 11th century. (There is even some mention of the tarantella in ancient Greek mythology.) Of the possible sources of the dance, the most popular comes from the villages of Tanto and Tarentum (“little spider”), Italy. During harvest, workers in the field were sometimes bitten by the tarantula spider. To combat the “poison,” the afflicted workers went into a frenetic, almost musical exorcism to sweat the venom out of their pores. In the millennium since, the very energetic nature of the dance has remained, although the curative focus of the dance has given way to more enjoyable endeavors, even stately courtship.Christopher Smart (1722-1771), also known as “Kit Smart” or “Jack Smart,” was born in Kent, England and suffered from what is now believed to be acute asthma and other health issues as a child. As such, he did not work in the fields, but spent much time reading and writing, a passion that he nurtured for a lifetime. Well known in London literary circles, his career as a writer floundered due to mounting debts and his falling out of favor with the literary establishment: Sadly, he was forced to confinement at St. Luke’s Hospital for Lunatics, though this was based on his mounting debt, and not on insanity. (Confinement, or debtor’s prison, was common during this period if one’s debts could not be paid.) During his confinement, he worked on two of his most famous works, Jubilate Agno and A Song of David. (Part of Jubilate Agno [“Rejoice in the Lamb”] was set to music by English composer, Benjamin Britten.) Smart’s writing style (which, at times, bordered on the absurd), along with his many obsessions, lead to frequent misperceptions of his work and his lucidity. In this present work, portions of Smart’s Jubilate Agno were used in mm. 24-31, 103-110 and 149-156. The remaining text was gathered by the composer, including the rapid, almost patter-like, delivery of words from A-Z in the alphabet. (Christopher Smart had a preoccupation with the alphabet.) These words both rhyme and accentuate the frenetic nature of the spider dance:The convergence, then, of the medieval tarantella (spider dance), the writings of a brilliant poet who bordered on the absurd, and the infusion of strong, descriptive and otherwise random, rhyming words, synthesizes to make dramatic lyrics for this work.Z. Randall Stroope is an American composer and conductor. He has served as Professor of Music at three universities (an Endowed Professor at two), conducted 47 all-state choirs, and directed over 40 times at Carnegie Hall, among other American venues. Randall guest conducts full-time, and composes from his home studios on Merritt Island, Florida and in Sandia Park, New Mexico.In Latin, the “r” is flipped; use “s” instead of “z” on endings such as “phosa,” “cosa,” and so on; the Latin “o” is a cross between “oh” and “aw”; in the transliteration above, I chose to simply use an “o” for consistency. The director will blend the “oh” and “aw” in the rehearsals to his/her own preference. Lastly, “tarantula” is pronounced “tah-rah-n-too-lah” (avoid “teh-ran-choo-luh”) within the confines of this text.Stomp: This can be done by the entire chorus, or just the first row. It is as much visual as it is auditory. The string quartet is preferred over piano when that option affords itself. I created a piano score that is a viable option and included it in the piano/vocal score if a performance uses chorus/piano.

SKU: BR.DV-6081

ISBN 9790200460032. 9.5 x 12 inches.

Duration: full evening

Translation: German (W. Ebermann/M. Koerth), Engl. (D. Llyod-Jones), French (M. Delines)
Place and time: Partly on the estate, partly in Petersburg, in 20ies of the 19th Century

Characters: Larina, Owner of the Estate (mezzo-soprano) - Tatiana (soprano) and Olga (alto), her Daughters - Filipjewna, Wet Nurse (mezzo-soprano/alto) - Eugen Onegin (baritone) - Lenskij (tenor) - Prince Gremin (bass) - A Commander (bass) - Saretzkij (bass) - Triquet, a French Man (tenor) - Guillot, a Valet (silent part) - Country Folk, Ball Guests, Squire, Officers (chorus) - Waltz, mazurka, polonaise and Russian dance (Ballet )

There is an interesting parallel between the subject of the opera and Tchaikovsky's life during the year he wrote the work (1877): in each case, a letter provokes fateful developments in the lives of the protagonists. In the opera, Tatyana's love letter to Eugene sets off the tragedy, whereas in real life, the love letter of a pupil led the composer into a marriage, which lasted all of ... three months. Tchaikovsky took this doomed decision without love, solely because the circumstances want it and because I cannot act differently. Certain allusions made, for example, in a letter of January 1878 to Taneyev suggest that the composer's personal situation also flowed into the work: I did not want anything to do with the so-called 'grand opera.' I am looking for an intimate but powerful drama which is built on the conflict of circumstances which I myself have seen and experienced, a conflict which truly moves me. Partly for this reason the composer decided to call the work not an opera but lyrical scenes.Eugene Onegin, conceived by Tchaikovsky for limited resources and a small stage, is the most frequently performed Russian opera today along with Mussorgsky's Boris Godunov, which represents a completely contrary aesthetic stance.

Tschaikowskys letzte Oper - auf ein Libretto seines Bruders Modest nach der Dramenvorlage des danischen Schriftstellers Henrik Hertz - lebt von den poetischen Momenten und den symbolbeladenen Charakterportrats der Hauptfiguren: Die junge blinde Jolanthe wird von ihrem Vater aus Sorge um ihren Makel und zum Schutz ihrer Jungfraulichkeit und vor den Widrigkeiten der Welt in einen paradiesischen Garten gesperrt. Er befielt zu ihrem Schutz sie um ihre Blindheit unwissend zu lassen. Ein Arzt warnt sehen werde sie nur konnen wenn sie es selbst wolle gleich welche Angste aus der vollstandigen Erkenntnis der Welt erwachsen. Als der junge Vaudemont in ihre Abgeschiedenheit einbricht und sich beide ineinander verlieben befreit er sie von ihrer Unwissenheit erklart was Farbe und Licht bedeuten. Erst die Liebe zu ihm macht sie sehend.

Die dunkle Welt der Jolanthe zeichnet Tschaikowsky zu Beginn musikalisch durch eine Introduktion ausschliesslich fur Blaser. Erst mit dem Eintritt in die unbekannte Welt der Liebe und des Sehens verwendet Tschaikowsky einen warmen Streicherklang. Gerade dadurch stiess die Oper wohl bei Zeitgenossen auf Verstorung. Tschaikowskys ,,Jolanthe nimmt in seinem Opernschaffen eine Sonderstellung ein: neben dem glucklichen Ende einer Apotheose des Lichts und der Liebe mit einem religios gepragten Schlusschoral ist es eines der wenigen Buhnenwerke Tschaikowskys ohne Bezug zur russischen Geschichte. Der ausgepragte Lyrismus des Werks verweist stattdessen auf Tschaikowskys Nahe zur franzosischen Kultur die im 19. Jahrhundert einen starken Einfluss auf Russland hatte. Die Oper wurde 1892 am Mariinsky-Theater in Sankt Petersburg als Auftragswerk zusammen mit seinem Ballett ,,Der Nussknacker uraufgefuhrt.

Neben der Produktion des Munchner Rundfunkorchesters wurde ,,Jolanthe szenisch erfolgreich bei den Festspielen Baden-Baden mit Anna Netrebko und Piotr Beczala als Liebespaar rehabilitiert. Ausserhalb Deutschlands lief die Opernraritat in Toulouse Tokyo San Sebastian und Monte Carlo. Zuletzt erneut die ,,Suddeutsche Zeitung: ,,Jolanthe ist eine Opernausgrabung die ,,wirklich zu Unrecht vergessen ist. Tchaikovsky's last opera - on a libretto by the composer's brother Modest based on the drama by the Danish author Henrik Hertz - derives its life-blood from its poetic moments and the symbol-laden portraits of the leading characters: the blind young Yolanta is kept prisoner in a paradisiacal garden by her father who fears for her purity and her virginity and seeks to protect her from the adversities of the world. To do so he orders everyone to keep her ignorant of the fact that she is blind. A doctor warns that she will only be able to see when she is ready to do so herself no matter what fears might result from a complete experience of the world. When the young Vaudemont breaks into her secluded world and the two fall in love he frees her from her ignorance and explains the significance of color and light. It is through her love for him that she is finally able to see. At the beginning of the work Tchaikovsky depicts Yolanta's dark world with an introduction scored exclusively for winds. It is not until her discovery of the unknown world of love and sight that Tchaikovsky uses a warm string sound. This is what many of the composer's contemporaries found disturbing about the opera.

Tchaikovsky's Yolanta occupies a special place in the composer's operatic oeuvre: for one it has a happy ending an apotheosis of light and love with a religiously stamped closing chorale; for another it is one of Tchaikovsky's few stage works without any reference to Russian history. Instead the work's pronounced lyricism points to the composer's closeness to French culture. which exerted a strong influence on Russia in the 19th century.

The opera was given its world premiere at the Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg in 1892. It had been commissioned along with the ballet The Nutcracker. Next to the production by the Munchner Rundfunkorchester Yolanta was also successfully rehabilitated in a recent staged production at the Baden-Baden Festival with Anna Netrebko and Piotr Beczala as the lovers. Outside of Germany the operatic rarity was performed in Toulouse Tokyo San Sebastian and Monte Carlo.

In closing another quote from the Suddeutsche Zeitung: 'Yolanta' is an operatic rediscovery of a work that was truly 'wrongly forgotten'.

SKU: MH.1-59913-054-8

ISBN 9781599130545.

Royal Coronation Dances is the first sequel to the Fanfare Ode & Festival, both being settings of dance music originally arranged by Gervaise in the mid 16th-century (the next sequel is The Renaissance Fair, which uses music of Susato and Praetorius). Fanfare Ode & Festival has been performed by many tens of thousands of students, both in high school and junior high school. I have heard that some of them are amazed that the music they are playing was first played and danced to over 400 years ago. Some students tend to think that music started with Handel and his Messiah to be followed by Beethoven and his Fifth Symphony, with naught in between or before of consequence. Although Royal Coronation Dances is derived from the same source as Fanfare Ode & Festival, they are treated in different ways. I envisioned this new suite programmatically -- hence the descriptive movement titles, which I imagined to be various dances actually used at some long-ago coronation. The first movement depicts the guests, both noble and common, flanked by flag and banner bearers, arriving at the palace to view the majestic event. They are festive, their flags swirling the air, their cloaks brightly colored. In the second movement, the queen in stately measure moves to take her place on the throne as leader and protector of the realm. In the third movement, the jesters of the court entertain the guests with wild games of sport. Musically, there are interesting sonorities to recreate. Very special attention should be given to the tambourine/tenor drum part in the first movement. Their lively rhythms give the movement its power. Therefore they should be played as distinctly and brilliantly as possible. The xylophone and glockenspiel add clarity, but must not be allowed to dominate. Observe especially the differing dynamics; the intent is to allow much buzzing bass to penetrate. The small drum (starting at meas. 29) should be played expressively, with attention to the notated articulations, with the brass light and detached, especially in a lively auditorium. It is of some further interest that the first dance is extremely modal. The original is clearly in G mixolydian mode (scale: G-A-B-C-D-E-F-G). However, other editors might put in F-sharps in many places (changing the piece almost to G major), in the belief that such ficta would have been automatically put in by the 16th-century performers as they played. I doubt it. I have not only eschewed these within the work, but even at the cadences. So this arrangement is most distinctly modal (listen to the F-naturals in meas. 22 and 23, for instance), with all the part-writing as Gervaise wrote it. In the second movement, be careful that things do not become too glued together. In the 16th century this music might have been played by a consort of recorders, instruments very light of touch and sensitive to articulation. Concert band can easily sound heavy, and although this movement has been scored for tutti band, it must not sound it. It is essential, therefore, that you hear all the instruments, with none predominating. Only when each timbre can be heard separately and simultaneously will the best blend occur, and consequently the greatest transparency. So aim for a transparent, spacious tutti sound in this movement. Especially have the flutes, who do this so well, articulate rather sharply, so as to produce a chiffing sound, and do not allow the quarter-notes to become too tied together in the entire band. The entrance of the drums (first tenor, then bass) are events and as such should be audible. Incidentally, this movement begins in F Major and ends in D Minor: They really didn't care so much about those things then. The third movement (one friend has remarked that it is the most Margolisian of the bunch, but actually I am just getting subtler, I hope) again relies upon the percussion (and the scoring) to make its points. Xylophone in this movement is meant to be distinctly audible. Therefore, be especially sure that the xylophone player is secure in the part, and also that the tambourine and toms sound good. This movement must fly or it will sink, so rev up the band and conduct it in 1 for this mixolydian jesting. I suppose the wildly unrelated keys (clarinets and then brass at the end) would be a good 16th-century joke, but to us, our put-up-the-chorus-a-half-step ears readily accept such shenanigans. Ensemble instrumentation: 1 Full Score, 1 Piccolo, 4 Flute 1, 4 Flute 2 & 3, 2 Oboe 1 & 2, 2 Bassoon 1 & 2, 1 Eb Clarinet, 4 Bb Clarinet 1, 4 Bb Clarinet 2, 4 Bb Clarinet 3, 2 Eb Alto Clarinet, 1 Eb Contra Alto Clarinet, 3 Bb Bass & Bb Contrabass Clarinet, 2 Eb Alto Saxophone 1, 2 Eb Alto Saxophone 2, 2 Bb Tenor Saxophone, 2 Eb Baritone Saxophone, 3 Bb Trumpet 1, 3 Bb Trumpet 2, 3 Bb Trumpet 3, 4 Horn in F 1 & 2, 2 Trombone 1, 4 Trombone 2 & 3, 3 Euphonium (B.C.), 2 Euphonium (T.C.), 4 Tuba, 1 String Bass, 1 Timpani (optional), 2 Xylophone & Glockenspiel, 5 Percussion.