SKU: PR.114422450

ISBN 9781491134986. UPC: 680160685974. 9 x 12 inches.

Bach’s colossal Partita No. 2 for Solo Violin has been crowned by many masters as one of music’s greatest achievements, and even its famous Chaconne movement alone is a mountain many performers dare not scale. While the literature of several other instruments has been enriched by transcriptions of the Chaconne, Mazzanti’s heroic adaptation of the complete Partita is the culmination of many years’ work, and the only transcription specifically for the piccolo’s unique range.
THE INSPIRATIONEver since my childhood, Johann Sebastian Bach’s solo violin music (like his works for solo cello) has always held a charm and mystery for me. There’s something about this repertoire that sparks an inextinguishable questioning in my musical and human soul.It is music without spatial limits or temporal cages, a music as essential as it is masterfully complex, in which the solitary voice of man meets the all-encompassing voice of God. It is a music whose vertical and horizontal dimensions, already admirably fused, are faceted into new and mysterious realities. For every violinist, the study of these compositions is at the apex of tenacious technical study and interpretative effort.Violinist Joshua Bell has said the Ciaccona (Bach did write the Partita’s movement titles in Italian) is “not just one of the greatest pieces of music ever written, but one of the greatest achievements of any man in history. It’s a spiritually powerful piece, emotionally powerful, structurally perfect.”Transcribing and performing Bach’s PARTITA NO. 2, BWV 1004 on piccolo was a feat that took years of work. The famous Ciaccona movement is, of course, the piece that alone occupied most of this time. How does one honor and elevate such high music with such a “small” instrument, devoid of the enormous expressive potential of the violin, devoid of its chords and its polyphony? How might I transform the piccolo into an instrument with, like the violin, full-bodied low notes and subtle high notes? Above all, why undertake such a demanding and extraordinary journey?The first reason is obvious: by transcribing, studying, and performing such an admirable piece, we assimilate it, it becomes part of us, it enormously enriches our musical interior.In addition, it forces us technically to expand the colors, agility, and flexibility of the instrument; it makes us think in a polyphonic way.Finally, the daily study, especially of the Ciaccona, is an extraordinary gymnasium in which to consolidate and strengthen our general technique.THE TRANSCRIPTIONThe whole Partita was transcribed in the key of A minor, a fifth above the original in D minor. This was necessary for the lowest note of the violin (G) to correspond to the lowest note of the piccolo (D). This version exploits the full range of the piccolo, from the D of the first octave to the B of the third octave. However some octave adjustments were needed.The chords, particularly in the Sarabanda and the Ciaccona, have been left with the same notational system used by Bach in his version for violin. I chose to respect Bach’s presentation and did not transcribe these into grace notes breaking the chords. I advocate that we must at least try to think of this music in its vertical dimension, trying to make the notes resonate as if they were being played together, deciding the speed of the arpeggio based on musical needs.While some woodwind editions of Bach’s string solos do indicate broken chords as grace notes, this implies that the most important note is necessarily the highest one, while sometimes it is precisely in the lower pitches that the theme is voiced.In this piccolo adaptation, many of Bach’s original articulations have been respected. Some have been changed, when needing to adapt them to the specific needs of flute playing.The two passages in the Ciaccona where Bach indicates “arpeggio” were rendered trying to respect the most consolidated and virtuous violin traditions, and at the same time the possibilities that the piccolo offers us. For this purpose, in some cases, different revoicings of the chords have been used.I thank all those who patiently listened to me and were close to me during this period, for their observations and advice. In particular, I thank my daughter Sara for her assistance and skill in entering this edition into music writing software.

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.