Composed by Franz Liszt, edited by Ferruccio Benvenuto Busoni (1866-1924). For piano. Format: piano solo book. With introductory text and performance notes. Romantic period and etudes. 272 pages. 838x1114 inches. Published by Dover Publications.

Composed by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky. For solo piano. Format: piano solo book. Romantic period. Series: The World's Great Classical Music. 216 pages. 9x12 inches. Published by Hal Leonard.

Solo Repertoire and Lead Sheets from Movies, TV, Radio, and Stage. Edited by E. L. Lancaster and Kenon D. Renfrow. Book; Method/Instruction; Piano - Alfred's Group Piano for Adults. Alfred's Group Piano for Adults. Pop. 64 pages. Published by Alfred Music

By Per Danielsson. For Keyboard Piano. chord book. You Can Teach Yourself. All Styles. Level: Beginning. Book. Size 8.75x11.75. 120 pages. Published by Mel Bay Publications, Inc.

Piano

SKU: BT.MUSAM39645

The Complete Piano Player. Tuition. Book Only. Composed 1992. 232 pages. Music Sales #MUSAM39645. Published by Music Sales (BT.MUSAM39645).

ISBN 9780711906723. English.

All five books of The Complete Piano Player series are published in this single volume at a substantial savings over the price of the five individual books. Complete with keyboard chart.

By ABRSM. For piano. Published by ABRSM (Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music).

By Various. For Piano/Keyboard. Piano Solo Songbook. Softcover. 464 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

Orchestra Piano

SKU: PR.11641861SP

Composed by William Kraft. Part. 35 pages. Duration 21 minutes. Theodore Presser Company #116-41861SP. Published by Theodore Presser Company (PR.11641861SP).

UPC: 680160685202.

What?! - my composer colleagues said - A concerto for the piano? It's a 19th century instrument! Admittedly we are in an age when originally created timbres and/or musico-technological formulations are often the modus operandi of a piece. Actually, this Concerto began about two years ago when, during one of my creative jogs, the sound of the uppermost register of the piano mingled with wind chimes penetrated my inner ear. The challenge and fascination of exploring and developing this idea into an orchestral situation determined that some day soon I would be writing a work for piano and orchestra. So it was a very happy coincidence when Mona Golabek phoned to tell me she would like discuss the Ford Foundation commission. After covering areas of aesthetics and compositional styles, we found that we had a good working rapport, and she asked if I would accept the commission. The answer was obvious. Then began the intensive thought process on the stylistic essence and organization of the work. Along with this went a renewed study of idiomatic writing for the piano, of the kind Stravinsky undertook with the violin when he began his Violin Concerto. By a stroke of great fortune, the day in February 1972 that I received official notice from the Ford Foundation of the commission, I also received a letter from the Guggenheim Foundation informing me I had been awarded my second fellowship. With the good graces of Zubin Mehta and Ernest Fleischmann, masters of my destiny as a member of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, I was relieved of my orchestral duties during the Hollywood Bowl season. Thus I was able to go to Europe to work and to view the latest trends in music concentrating in London (the current musical melting pot and showcase par excellence), Oslo, Norway, for the Festival of Scandinavian Music called Nordic Days, and Warsaw, Poland, for its prestigious Autumn Festival. Over half the Concerto was completed in that summer and most of the rest during the 72-73 season with the final touches put on during a month as Resident Scholar at the Rockefeller Foundation's Villa Serbelloni in Bellagio, Italy. So much for the external and environmental influences, except perhaps to mention the birds of Sussex in the first movement, the bells of Arhus (Denmark) in the second movement and the bells of Bellagio at the end of the Concerto. Primary in the conception was the personality of Miss Golabek: she is a wonderfully vital and dynamic person and a real virtuoso. Therefore, the soloist in the Concerto is truly the protagonist; it is she (for once we can do away with the generic he) who unfolds the character and intent of the piece. The first section is constructed in the manner of a recitative - completely unmeasured - with letters and numbers by which the conductor signals the orchestra for its participation. This allows the soloist the freedom to interpret the patterns and control the flow and development of the music. The Concerto is actually in one continuous movement but with three large divisions of sufficiently contrasting character to be called movements in themselves. The first 'movement' is based on a few timbral elements: 1) a cluster of very low pitches which at the beginning are practically inaudibly depressed, and sustained silently by the sostenuto pedal, which causes sympathetic vibrating pitches to ring when strong notes are struck; 2) a single powerful note indicated by a black note-head with a line through it indicating the strongest possible sforzando; 3) short figures of various colors sometimes ominous, sometimes as splashes of light or as elements of transition; 4) trills and tremolos which are the actual controlling organic thread starting as single axial tremolos and gradually expanding to trills of increasingly larger and more powerful scope. The 'movement' begins in quiescent repose but unceasingly grows in energy and tension as the stretching of a string or rubber band. When it can no longer be restrained, it bursts into the next section. The second 'movement,' propelled by the released tension, is a brilliant virtuosic display, which begins with a long solo of wispy percussion, later joined in duet with the piano. Not to be ignored, the orchestra takes over shooting the material throughout all its sections like a small agile bird deftly maneuvering through nothing but air, while the piano counterposes moments of lyricism. The orchestra reaches a climax, thrusting us into the third 'movement' which begins with a cadenza-like section for the piano. This moves gently into an expressive section (expressive is not a negative term to me) in which duets are formed with various instruments. There are fleeting glimpses of remembrances past, as a fragmented recapitulation. One glimpse is hazily expressed by strings and percussion in a moment of simultaneous contrasting levels of activity, a technique of which I have been fond and have utilized in various fixed-free relationships, particularly in my Percussion Concerto, Contextures and Games: Collage No. 1. The second half of the third 'movement; is a large coda - akin to those in Beethoven - which brings about another display of virtuosity, this time gutsy and driving, raising the Concerto to a final climax, the soloist completing the fragmented recapitulation concept as well as the work with the single-note sforzando and low cluster from the very opening of the first movement.

(Original Music from the Television Series). By John Lunn (1956-). For Piano/Keyboard. Piano Solo Songbook. Softcover. 88 pages. Published by Music Sales

(Book with Online Audio Access Early Intermediate Level). By Various. Edited by Richard Walters. For Piano. Schirmer Performance Editions. Early Intermediate. Softcover Audio Online. 56 pages. Published by G. Schirmer

Collection for solo piano. Series: The World's Great Classical Music. 256 pages. Published by Hal Leonard.

Composed by Franz Schubert (1797-1828), edited by Walburga Litschauer. D 960. For piano. Urtext of the New Schubert Edition. Format: piano solo book. With introductory text. Romantic Period and Classical Period. Bb Major. 66 pages. 9x12 inches. Published by Baerenreiter-Ausgaben (German import).

Piano Solo

SKU: IS.PN7295EM

Composed by Guy Van Nueten. Keyboards - Piano. Metropolis Music Publishers #PN7295EM. Published by Metropolis Music Publishers (IS.PN7295EM).

ISBN 9790365072958.

Light the fire, James. We’ll take our digestive by the crackling of the hearth. Such were the thoughts that came to mind as I started listening to Guy Van Nueten’s new record. Because, yes, there is a certain aristocracy to this music. There’s the feeling of autumn and you immediately long to warm yourself on the sounds that issue from Van Nueten's bony fingers. But it could just as well be a car ride through soft rain at nightfall, where trees become freakish phantoms, and here and there a villa looms like a light beacon. Pacman is a record that makes you hunt for images, films you have seen before, feelings you have known and wish to relive, like a somewhat forbidden fruit, a secret pleasure. Melancholy? Absolutely. A vague sadness to make a person purr like a contented cat? Certainly. Yet at the same time, Van Nueten is cunning. While ensuring that his music pleases you, at the end of some compositions he’ll suddenly come up with a theme that he’ll stop abruptly, so that the notes remain hanging like snapshots of aerial acrobats in action. It is also investigative music as if Guy himself does not wish to know just where he will finish up. There is a stubbornness to it, an elegant fight perhaps between composer and pianist. It pursues you – exactly like a Pacman, in fact, chomping away at digital pieces of your heart. Yet it never seems to dissolve into thin air: time and again, right from the first listen, he makes you long to hear more. It is music that should protect a person like a secret, like an illegal fire in a forest that warms your hands and fills your head with dreams. It smells like cedar, this piano music. Or like a nice cigar offered to you by the imaginary James, who whispers: The fire is crackling, sir. Just as you like it. At which point the enchantment begins all over again.