SKU: PR.16500103F

ISBN 9781491131763. UPC: 680160680290.

Ever since the success of my series of wind ensemble works Places in the West, I've been wanting to write a companion piece for national parks on the other side of the north American continent. The earlier work, consisting of GLACIER, THE YELLOWSTONE FIRES, ARCHES, and ZION, spanned some twenty years of my composing life, and since the pieces called for differing groups of instruments, and were in slightly different styles from each other, I never considered them to be connected except in their subject matter. In their depiction of both the scenery and the human history within these wondrous places, they had a common goal: awaking the listener to the fragile beauty that is in them; and calling attention to the ever more crucial need for preservation and protection of these wild places, unique in all the world. With this new work, commissioned by a consortium of college and conservatory wind ensembles led by the University of Georgia, I decided to build upon that same model---but to solidify the process. The result, consisting of three movements (each named for a different national park in the eastern US), is a bona-fide symphony. While the three pieces could be performed separately, they share a musical theme---and also a common style and instrumentation. It is a true symphony, in that the first movement is long and expository, the second is a rather tightly structured scherzo-with-trio, and the finale is a true culmination of the whole. The first movement, Everglades, was the original inspiration for the entire symphony. Conceived over the course of two trips to that astonishing place (which the native Americans called River of Grass, the subtitle of this movement), this movement not only conveys a sense of the humid, lush, and even frightening scenery there---but also an overview of the entire settling-of- Florida experience. It contains not one, but two native American chants, and also presents a view of the staggering influence of modern man on this fragile part of the world. Beginning with a slow unfolding marked Heavy, humid, the music soon presents a gentle, lyrical theme in the solo alto saxophone. This theme, which goes through three expansive phrases with breaks in between, will appear in all three movements of the symphony. After the mood has been established, the music opens up to a rich, warm setting of a Cherokee morning song, with the simple happiness that this part of Florida must have had prior to the nineteenth century. This music, enveloping and comforting, gradually gives way to a more frenetic, driven section representative of the intrusion of the white man. Since Florida was populated and developed largely due to the introduction of a train system, there's a suggestion of the mechanized iron horse driving straight into the heartland. At that point, the native Americans become considerably less gentle, and a second chant seems to stand in the way of the intruder; a kind of warning song. The second part of this movement shows us the great swampy center of the peninsula, with its wildlife both in and out of the water. A new theme appears, sad but noble, suggesting that this land is precious and must be protected by all the people who inhabit it. At length, the morning song reappears in all its splendor, until the sunset---with one last iteration of the warning song in the solo piccolo. Functioning as a scherzo, the second movement, Great Smoky Mountains, describes not just that huge park itself, but one brave soul's attempt to climb a mountain there. It begins with three iterations of the UR-theme (which began the first movement as well), but this time as up-tempo brass fanfares in octaves. Each time it begins again, the theme is a little slower and less confident than the previous time---almost as though the hiker were becoming aware of the daunting mountain before him. But then, a steady, quick-pulsed ostinato appears, in a constantly shifting meter system of 2/4- 3/4 in alteration, and the hike has begun. Over this, a slower new melody appears, as the trek up the mountain progresses. It's a big mountain, and the ascent seems to take quite awhile, with little breaks in the hiker's stride, until at length he simply must stop and rest. An oboe solo, over several free cadenza-like measures, allows us (and our friend the hiker) to catch our breath, and also to view in the distance the rocky peak before us. The goal is somehow even more daunting than at first, being closer and thus more frighteningly steep. When we do push off again, it's at a slower pace, and with more careful attention to our footholds as we trek over broken rocks. Tantalizing little views of the valley at every switchback make our determination even stronger. Finally, we burst through a stand of pines and----we're at the summit! The immensity of the view is overwhelming, and ultimately humbling. A brief coda, while we sit dazed on the rocks, ends the movement in a feeling of triumph. The final movement, Acadia, is also about a trip. In the summer of 2014, I took a sailing trip with a dear friend from North Haven, Maine, to the southern coast of Mt. Desert Island in Acadia National Park. The experience left me both exuberant and exhausted, with an appreciation for the ocean that I hadn't had previously. The approach to Acadia National Park by water, too, was thrilling: like the difference between climbing a mountain on foot with riding up on a ski-lift, I felt I'd earned the right to be there. The music for this movement is entirely based on the opening UR-theme. There's a sense of the water and the mysterious, quiet deep from the very beginning, with seagulls and bell buoys setting the scene. As we leave the harbor, the theme (in a canon between solo euphonium and tuba) almost seems as if large subaquatic animals are observing our departure. There are three themes (call them A, B and C) in this seafaring journey---but they are all based on the UR theme, in its original form with octaves displaced, in an upside-down form, and in a backwards version as well. (The ocean, while appearing to be unchanging, is always changing.) We move out into the main channel (A), passing several islands (B), until we reach the long draw that parallels the coastline called Eggemoggin Reach, and a sudden burst of new speed (C). Things suddenly stop, as if the wind had died, and we have a vision: is that really Mt. Desert Island we can see off the port bow, vaguely in the distance? A chorale of saxophones seems to suggest that. We push off anew as the chorale ends, and go through all three themes again---but in different instrumentations, and different keys. At the final tack-turn, there it is, for real: Mt. Desert Island, big as life. We've made it. As we pull into the harbor, where we'll secure the boat for the night, there's a feeling of achievement. Our whale and dolphin friends return, and we end our journey with gratitude and celebration. I am profoundly grateful to Jaclyn Hartenberger, Professor of Conducting at the University of Georgia, for leading the consortium which provided the commissioning of this work.

SKU: PR.16500101F

ISBN 9781491131725. UPC: 680160680252.

Ever since the success of my series of wind ensemble works Places in the West, I've been wanting to write a companion piece for national parks on the other side of the north American continent. The earlier work, consisting of GLACIER, THE YELLOWSTONE FIRES, ARCHES, and ZION, spanned some twenty years of my composing life, and since the pieces called for differing groups of instruments, and were in slightly different styles from each other, I never considered them to be connected except in their subject matter. In their depiction of both the scenery and the human history within these wondrous places, they had a common goal: awaking the listener to the fragile beauty that is in them; and calling attention to the ever more crucial need for preservation and protection of these wild places, unique in all the world. With this new work, commissioned by a consortium of college and conservatory wind ensembles led by the University of Georgia, I decided to build upon that same model---but to solidify the process. The result, consisting of three movements (each named for a different national park in the eastern US), is a bona-fide symphony. While the three pieces could be performed separately, they share a musical theme---and also a common style and instrumentation. It is a true symphony, in that the first movement is long and expository, the second is a rather tightly structured scherzo-with-trio, and the finale is a true culmination of the whole. The first movement, Everglades, was the original inspiration for the entire symphony. Conceived over the course of two trips to that astonishing place (which the native Americans called River of Grass, the subtitle of this movement), this movement not only conveys a sense of the humid, lush, and even frightening scenery there---but also an overview of the entire settling-of- Florida experience. It contains not one, but two native American chants, and also presents a view of the staggering influence of modern man on this fragile part of the world. Beginning with a slow unfolding marked Heavy, humid, the music soon presents a gentle, lyrical theme in the solo alto saxophone. This theme, which goes through three expansive phrases with breaks in between, will appear in all three movements of the symphony. After the mood has been established, the music opens up to a rich, warm setting of a Cherokee morning song, with the simple happiness that this part of Florida must have had prior to the nineteenth century. This music, enveloping and comforting, gradually gives way to a more frenetic, driven section representative of the intrusion of the white man. Since Florida was populated and developed largely due to the introduction of a train system, there's a suggestion of the mechanized iron horse driving straight into the heartland. At that point, the native Americans become considerably less gentle, and a second chant seems to stand in the way of the intruder; a kind of warning song. The second part of this movement shows us the great swampy center of the peninsula, with its wildlife both in and out of the water. A new theme appears, sad but noble, suggesting that this land is precious and must be protected by all the people who inhabit it. At length, the morning song reappears in all its splendor, until the sunset---with one last iteration of the warning song in the solo piccolo. Functioning as a scherzo, the second movement, Great Smoky Mountains, describes not just that huge park itself, but one brave soul's attempt to climb a mountain there. It begins with three iterations of the UR-theme (which began the first movement as well), but this time as up-tempo brass fanfares in octaves. Each time it begins again, the theme is a little slower and less confident than the previous time---almost as though the hiker were becoming aware of the daunting mountain before him. But then, a steady, quick-pulsed ostinato appears, in a constantly shifting meter system of 2/4- 3/4 in alteration, and the hike has begun. Over this, a slower new melody appears, as the trek up the mountain progresses. It's a big mountain, and the ascent seems to take quite awhile, with little breaks in the hiker's stride, until at length he simply must stop and rest. An oboe solo, over several free cadenza-like measures, allows us (and our friend the hiker) to catch our breath, and also to view in the distance the rocky peak before us. The goal is somehow even more daunting than at first, being closer and thus more frighteningly steep. When we do push off again, it's at a slower pace, and with more careful attention to our footholds as we trek over broken rocks. Tantalizing little views of the valley at every switchback make our determination even stronger. Finally, we burst through a stand of pines and----we're at the summit! The immensity of the view is overwhelming, and ultimately humbling. A brief coda, while we sit dazed on the rocks, ends the movement in a feeling of triumph. The final movement, Acadia, is also about a trip. In the summer of 2014, I took a sailing trip with a dear friend from North Haven, Maine, to the southern coast of Mt. Desert Island in Acadia National Park. The experience left me both exuberant and exhausted, with an appreciation for the ocean that I hadn't had previously. The approach to Acadia National Park by water, too, was thrilling: like the difference between climbing a mountain on foot with riding up on a ski-lift, I felt I'd earned the right to be there. The music for this movement is entirely based on the opening UR-theme. There's a sense of the water and the mysterious, quiet deep from the very beginning, with seagulls and bell buoys setting the scene. As we leave the harbor, the theme (in a canon between solo euphonium and tuba) almost seems as if large subaquatic animals are observing our departure. There are three themes (call them A, B and C) in this seafaring journey---but they are all based on the UR theme, in its original form with octaves displaced, in an upside-down form, and in a backwards version as well. (The ocean, while appearing to be unchanging, is always changing.) We move out into the main channel (A), passing several islands (B), until we reach the long draw that parallels the coastline called Eggemoggin Reach, and a sudden burst of new speed (C). Things suddenly stop, as if the wind had died, and we have a vision: is that really Mt. Desert Island we can see off the port bow, vaguely in the distance? A chorale of saxophones seems to suggest that. We push off anew as the chorale ends, and go through all three themes again---but in different instrumentations, and different keys. At the final tack-turn, there it is, for real: Mt. Desert Island, big as life. We've made it. As we pull into the harbor, where we'll secure the boat for the night, there's a feeling of achievement. Our whale and dolphin friends return, and we end our journey with gratitude and celebration. I am profoundly grateful to Jaclyn Hartenberger, Professor of Conducting at the University of Georgia, for leading the consortium which provided the commissioning of this work.

SKU: CF.MXE219

ISBN 9781491157794. UPC: 680160916399. 9 x 12 inches.

Preface In 1990, during an intense rehearsal of a Mozart Quartet transcription for flute and strings by Franz Anton Hoffmeister, at the Marblehead Summer Music Festival, a disgruntled violist friend complained about HoffmeisterAs awkward string writing, suddenly daring me to create my own arrangement. I balked. But the following winterA3despite scruples about treading on hallowed groundA3I grew curious and began to experiment. Soon I was hooked on the challenge of learning to speak MozartAs language with conviction. This fascination, encouraged by pianist Richard Goode and other Mozarteans, would eventually generate a total of thirty-nine recreations of Mozart piano sonatas as works for flute and strings. With zero tolerance for alteration of melodic or harmonic materialA3MozartAs friend Hoffmeister had regrettably attempted such A!improvementsA(r)A3I always tried to envision what Mozart himself would have desired. Many of the sonatas can be heard as if they were MozartAs A!blueprintsA(r) of imagined chamber works. Hence my task was to A!flesh outA(r) the keyboard versions as Mozart might have done, had a commission or performance opportunity arisen. I spent hours pondering how Mozart might have set these sonatas in four- or five-part form, providing the needed textural or contrapuntal enhancements. With immersion in the composerAs dialect, various apt solutions presented themselves. The search for the A!rightA(r) one then became a most absorbing study. On the eve of releasing my BognerAs CafA recording of Mozart-Stallman New Quintets (2006), I discovered to my delight that a prominent scholar had long before endorsed such an effort. Eric Blom (1888A+-1959), author of Mozart (1935), had taken note of the four-hand piano works as A!a kind of keyboard chamber music.A(r) Regarding Sonata, K. 497, Mr. Blom had observed that Mozart is often dealing with, not the expected four voices (one to a hand), but five. Blom states: A!The F major Sonata (K. 497) removes us to another worldA3the world of the great chamber music, especially of the string quintets. Indeed an arrangement of some sort for a combination of instruments would make a magnificent concert work of this almost uncomfortably great piece of domestic music.A(r) That Mozart was in 1786 writing for piano duo from a quintet perspective makes sense, as we find him returning to the quintet form with keen interest in his last years, writing four String Quintets, the Clarinet Quintet, rearranging a wind serenade for String Quintet, and leaving several other quintets incomplete. My arrangement presented here is made for flute and strings but is also intended for string quintet. Quintet in F Major for Flute and Strings, K. 497, was completed in 1999 and performed with the Martin Quartet in the Czech Republic prior to recording it in 2004. Mozart had finished the original Sonata in F Major for Piano, Four-Hands, K. 497, on August 1, 1786. It shows the unmistakable influence of Figaro, completed and premiered exactly three months prior. As signaled by the imposing introductory Adagio, the conception is on a grand symphonic scale, all three movements being richly developed with contrapuntal episodes and an abundance of marvelously contrasting textures and themes throughout. Called A!the crowning work of its kindA(r) by Alfred Einstein, the Sonata is laden with examples of MozartAs mercurial originality. Here we have a perfect synthesis of concertante brilliance, operatic intensity and intimate dialogue. The work opens in unison with a probing, minor-tinged Adagio, whose question comes to a pause on the dominant, before being answered with jaunty certainty by the opening theme of the Allegro di moltoA3an F-major tune as sunny and confident as an aria from Figaro itself. This movementAs declamatory A!opera chorusA(r) persistently intones its rhythmic motto over a swirling scale figure. The amorous second theme (initially presented in the first viola) also seems to be plucked from Figaro. The Andante opens with a heavenly melody, which takes as its springboard the Romanza theme from the Horn Concerto in E Major, K. 495, written only five weeks before. The A!love duetA(r) between flute and first viola seems to anticipate the impassioned A!duettingA(r) between violin and viola in the Andante of the String Quintet in C Major, K. 515, written about nine months later. The ingenious stretto canon of the AndanteAs middle section requires the precision of a Swiss clock (which its chiming thirds recall). Affecting bucolic codettas close each of the main sections of the movement. In the final Allegro, a rondo in 6/8a time, the puckish, yet aristocratic character of the opening theme contrasts with the bumptious, popular tune used for the second theme (heard first in the violin and then the flute, over pizzicato cello). Lilting hymn-like episodes in three, four- and finally five-part counterpoint are repeatedly interrupted by startling scale figures that rise up in furioso episodes throughout the movement. As in the A!Swiss clockA(r) section of the Andante, Mozart uses a stretto imitation treatment with this tempest theme, thereby heightening both intensity and sense of instability. I am most grateful to the adventuresome Martin Quartet for their warm support and collaboration over the years with several of my arrangements, and to my friend Edwin Swanborn for the original typesetting of this score. Gratitude is also due Weekend Edition, Performance Today and innumerable classical stations across the United States for their enthusiastic and repeated airings of my A!newA(r) Mozart Quintet endeavorsA3and most of all, to violist Katherine Murdock for that dare in 1990. A3Compiled from the writings of Robert Stallman by Hannah Woods Stallman, February 2, 2020.
Preface In 1990, during an intense rehearsal of a Mozart Quartet transcription for flute and strings by Franz Anton Hoffmeister, at the Marblehead Summer Music Festival, a disgruntled violist friend complained about Hoffmeisteris awkward string writing, suddenly daring me to create my own arrangement. I balked. But the following winterodespite scruples about treading on hallowed groundoI grew curious and began to experiment. Soon I was hooked on the challenge of learning to speak Mozartis language with conviction. This fascination, encouraged by pianist Richard Goode and other Mozarteans, would eventually generate a total of thirty-nine recreations of Mozart piano sonatas as works for flute and strings. With zero tolerance for alteration of melodic or harmonic materialoMozartis friend Hoffmeister had regrettably attempted such iimprovementsioI always tried to envision what Mozart himself would have desired. Many of the sonatas can be heard as if they were Mozartis iblueprintsi of imagined chamber works. Hence my task was to iflesh outi the keyboard versions as Mozart might have done, had a commission or performance opportunity arisen. I spent hours pondering how Mozart might have set these sonatas in four- or five-part form, providing the needed textural or contrapuntal enhancements. With immersion in the composeris dialect, various apt solutions presented themselves. The search for the irighti one then became a most absorbing study. On the eve of releasing my Bogneris CafE recording of Mozart-Stallman New Quintets (2006), I discovered to my delight that a prominent scholar had long before endorsed such an effort. Eric Blom (1888n1959), author of Mozart (1935), had taken note of the four-hand piano works as ia kind of keyboard chamber music.i Regarding Sonata, K. 497, Mr. Blom had observed that Mozart is often dealing with, not the expected four voices (one to a hand), but five. Blom states: iThe F major Sonata (K. 497) removes us to another worldothe world of the great chamber music, especially of the string quintets. Indeed an arrangement of some sort for a combination of instruments would make a magnificent concert work of this almost uncomfortably great piece of domestic music.i That Mozart was in 1786 writing for piano duo from a quintet perspective makes sense, as we find him returning to the quintet form with keen interest in his last years, writing four String Quintets, the Clarinet Quintet, rearranging a wind serenade for String Quintet, and leaving several other quintets incomplete. My arrangement presented here is made for flute and strings but is also intended for string quintet. Quintet in F Major for Flute and Strings, K. 497, was completed in 1999 and performed with the Martin Quartet in the Czech Republic prior to recording it in 2004. Mozart had finished the original Sonata in F Major for Piano, Four-Hands, K. 497, on August 1, 1786. It shows the unmistakable influence of Figaro, completed and premiered exactly three months prior. As signaled by the imposing introductory Adagio, the conception is on a grand symphonic scale, all three movements being richly developed with contrapuntal episodes and an abundance of marvelously contrasting textures and themes throughout. Called ithe crowning work of its kindi by Alfred Einstein, the Sonata is laden with examples of Mozartis mercurial originality. Here we have a perfect synthesis of concertante brilliance, operatic intensity and intimate dialogue. The work opens in unison with a probing, minor-tinged Adagio, whose question comes to a pause on the dominant, before being answered with jaunty certainty by the opening theme of the Allegro di moltooan F-major tune as sunny and confident as an aria from Figaro itself. This movementis declamatory iopera chorusi persistently intones its rhythmic motto over a swirling scale figure. The amorous second theme (initially presented in the first viola) also seems to be plucked from Figaro. The Andante opens with a heavenly melody, which takes as its springboard the Romanza theme from the Horn Concerto in E Major, K. 495, written only five weeks before. The ilove dueti between flute and first viola seems to anticipate the impassioned iduettingi between violin and viola in the Andante of the String Quintet in C Major, K. 515, written about nine months later. The ingenious stretto canon of the Andanteis middle section requires the precision of a Swiss clock (which its chiming thirds recall). Affecting bucolic codettas close each of the main sections of the movement. In the final Allegro, a rondo in 6/8+time, the puckish, yet aristocratic character of the opening theme contrasts with the bumptious, popular tune used for the second theme (heard first in the violin and then the flute, over pizzicato cello). Lilting hymn-like episodes in three, four- and finally five-part counterpoint are repeatedly interrupted by startling scale figures that rise up in furioso episodes throughout the movement. As in the iSwiss clocki section of the Andante, Mozart uses a stretto imitation treatment with this tempest theme, thereby heightening both intensity and sense of instability. I am most grateful to the adventuresome Martin Quartet for their warm support and collaboration over the years with several of my arrangements, and to my friend Edwin Swanborn for the original typesetting of this score. Gratitude is also due Weekend Edition, Performance Today and innumerable classical stations across the United States for their enthusiastic and repeated airings of my inewi Mozart Quintet endeavorsoand most of all, to violist Katherine Murdock for that dare in 1990. oCompiled from the writings of Robert Stallman by Hannah Woods Stallman, February 2, 2020.
Preface In 1990, during an intense rehearsal of a Mozart Quartet transcription for flute and strings by Franz Anton Hoffmeister, at the Marblehead Summer Music Festival, a disgruntled violist friend complained about Hoffmeister's awkward string writing, suddenly daring me to create my own arrangement. I balked. But the following winter--despite scruples about treading on hallowed ground--I grew curious and began to experiment. Soon I was hooked on the challenge of learning to speak Mozart's language with conviction. This fascination, encouraged by pianist Richard Goode and other Mozarteans, would eventually generate a total of thirty-nine recreations of Mozart piano sonatas as works for flute and strings. With zero tolerance for alteration of melodic or harmonic material--Mozart's friend Hoffmeister had regrettably attempted such improvements--I always tried to envision what Mozart himself would have desired. Many of the sonatas can be heard as if they were Mozart's blueprints of imagined chamber works. Hence my task was to flesh out the keyboard versions as Mozart might have done, had a commission or performance opportunity arisen. I spent hours pondering how Mozart might have set these sonatas in four- or five-part form, providing the needed textural or contrapuntal enhancements. With immersion in the composer's dialect, various apt solutions presented themselves. The search for the right one then became a most absorbing study. On the eve of releasing my Bogner's Cafe recording of Mozart-Stallman New Quintets (2006), I discovered to my delight that a prominent scholar had long before endorsed such an effort. Eric Blom (1888-1959), author of Mozart (1935), had taken note of the four-hand piano works as a kind of keyboard chamber music. Regarding Sonata, K. 497, Mr. Blom had observed that Mozart is often dealing with, not the expected four voices (one to a hand), but five. Blom states: The F major Sonata (K. 497) removes us to another world--the world of the great chamber music, especially of the string quintets. Indeed an arrangement of some sort for a combination of instruments would make a magnificent concert work of this almost uncomfortably great piece of domestic music. That Mozart was in 1786 writing for piano duo from a quintet perspective makes sense, as we find him returning to the quintet form with keen interest in his last years, writing four String Quintets, the Clarinet Quintet, rearranging a wind serenade for String Quintet, and leaving several other quintets incomplete. My arrangement presented here is made for flute and strings but is also intended for string quintet. Quintet in F Major for Flute and Strings, K. 497, was completed in 1999 and performed with the Martinu Quartet in the Czech Republic prior to recording it in 2004. Mozart had finished the original Sonata in F Major for Piano, Four-Hands, K. 497, on August 1, 1786. It shows the unmistakable influence of Figaro, completed and premiered exactly three months prior. As signaled by the imposing introductory Adagio, the conception is on a grand symphonic scale, all three movements being richly developed with contrapuntal episodes and an abundance of marvelously contrasting textures and themes throughout. Called the crowning work of its kind by Alfred Einstein, the Sonata is laden with examples of Mozart's mercurial originality. Here we have a perfect synthesis of concertante brilliance, operatic intensity and intimate dialogue. The work opens in unison with a probing, minor-tinged Adagio, whose question comes to a pause on the dominant, before being answered with jaunty certainty by the opening theme of the Allegro di molto--an F-major tune as sunny and confident as an aria from Figaro itself. This movement's declamatory opera chorus persistently intones its rhythmic motto over a swirling scale figure. The amorous second theme (initially presented in the first viola) also seems to be plucked from Figaro. The Andante opens with a heavenly melody, which takes as its springboard the Romanza theme from the Horn Concerto in E<= Major, K. 495, written only five weeks before. The love duet between flute and first viola seems to anticipate the impassioned duetting between violin and viola in the Andante of the String Quintet in C Major, K. 515, written about nine months later. The ingenious stretto canon of the Andante's middle section requires the precision of a Swiss clock (which its chiming thirds recall). Affecting bucolic codettas close each of the main sections of the movement. In the final Allegro, a rondo in 6/8 time, the puckish, yet aristocratic character of the opening theme contrasts with the bumptious, popular tune used for the second theme (heard first in the violin and then the flute, over pizzicato cello). Lilting hymn-like episodes in three, four- and finally five-part counterpoint are repeatedly interrupted by startling scale figures that rise up in furioso episodes throughout the movement. As in the Swiss clock section of the Andante, Mozart uses a stretto imitation treatment with this tempest theme, thereby heightening both intensity and sense of instability. I am most grateful to the adventuresome Martinu Quartet for their warm support and collaboration over the years with several of my arrangements, and to my friend Edwin Swanborn for the original typesetting of this score. Gratitude is also due Weekend Edition, Performance Today and innumerable classical stations across the United States for their enthusiastic and repeated airings of my new Mozart Quintet endeavors--and most of all, to violist Katherine Murdock for that dare in 1990. --Compiled from the writings of Robert Stallman by Hannah Woods Stallman, February 2, 2020.
PrefaceIn 1990, during an intense rehearsal of a Mozart Quartet transcription for flute and strings by Franz Anton Hoffmeister, at the Marblehead Summer Music Festival, a disgruntled violist friend complained about Hoffmeister’s awkward string writing, suddenly daring me to create my own arrangement. I balked. But the following winter—despite scruples about treading on hallowed ground—I grew curious and began to experiment. Soon I was hooked on the challenge of learning to speak Mozart’s language with conviction. This fascination, encouraged by pianist Richard Goode and other Mozarteans, would eventually generate a total of thirty-nine recreations of Mozart piano sonatas as works for flute and strings.With zero tolerance for alteration of melodic or harmonic material—Mozart’s friend Hoffmeister had regrettably attempted such “improvements”—I always tried to envision what Mozart himself would have desired. Many of the sonatas can be heard as if they were Mozart’s “blueprints” of imagined chamber works. Hence my task was to “flesh out” the keyboard versions as Mozart might have done, had a commission or performance opportunity arisen. I spent hours pondering how Mozart might have set these sonatas in four- or five-part form, providing the needed textural or contrapuntal enhancements. With immersion in the composer’s dialect, various apt solutions presented themselves. The search for the “right” one then became a most absorbing study.On the eve of releasing my Bogner’s Café recording of Mozart-Stallman New Quintets (2006), I discovered to my delight that a prominent scholar had long before endorsed such an effort. Eric Blom (1888–1959), author of Mozart (1935), had taken note of the four-hand piano works as “a kind of keyboard chamber music.” Regarding Sonata, K. 497, Mr. Blom had observed that Mozart is often dealing with, not the expected four voices (one to a hand), but five. Blom states: “The F major Sonata (K. 497) removes us to another world—the world of the great chamber music, especially of the string quintets. Indeed an arrangement of some sort for a combination of instruments would make a magnificent concert work of this almost uncomfortably great piece of domestic music.” That Mozart was in 1786 writing for piano duo from a quintet perspective makes sense, as we find him returning to the quintet form with keen interest in his last years, writing four String Quintets, the Clarinet Quintet, rearranging a wind serenade for String Quintet, and leaving several other quintets incomplete. My arrangement presented here is made for flute and strings but is also intended for string quintet.Quintet in F Major for Flute and Strings, K. 497, was completed in 1999 and performed with the Martinů Quartet in the Czech Republic prior to recording it in 2004. Mozart had finished the original Sonata in F Major for Piano, Four-Hands, K. 497, on August 1, 1786. It shows the unmistakable influence of Figaro, completed and premiered exactly three months prior. As signaled by the imposing introductory Adagio, the conception is on a grand symphonic scale, all three movements being richly developed with contrapuntal episodes and an abundance of marvelously contrasting textures and themes throughout. Called “the crowning work of its kind” by Alfred Einstein, the Sonata is laden with examples of Mozart’s mercurial originality. Here we have a perfect synthesis of concertante brilliance, operatic intensity and intimate dialogue.The work opens in unison with a probing, minor-tinged Adagio, whose question comes to a pause on the dominant, before being answered with jaunty certainty by the opening theme of the Allegro di molto—an F-major tune as sunny and confident as an aria from Figaro itself. This movement’s declamatory “opera chorus” persistently intones its rhythmic motto over a swirling scale figure. The amorous second theme (initially presented in the first viola) also seems to be plucked from Figaro.The Andante opens with a heavenly melody, which takes as its springboard the Romanza theme from the Horn Concerto in E≤ Major, K. 495, written only five weeks before. The “love duet” between flute and first viola seems to anticipate the impassioned “duetting” between violin and viola in the Andante of the String Quintet in C Major, K. 515, written about nine months later. The ingenious stretto canon of the Andante’s middle section requires the precision of a Swiss clock (which its chiming thirds recall). Affecting bucolic codettas close each of the main sections of the movement.In the final Allegro, a rondo in 6/8 time, the puckish, yet aristocratic character of the opening theme contrasts with the bumptious, popular tune used for the second theme (heard first in the violin and then the flute, over pizzicato cello). Lilting hymn-like episodes in three, four- and finally five-part counterpoint are repeatedly interrupted by startling scale figures that rise up in furioso episodes throughout the movement. As in the “Swiss clock” section of the Andante, Mozart uses a stretto imitation treatment with this tempest theme, thereby heightening both intensity and sense of instability.I am most grateful to the adventuresome Martinů Quartet for their warm support and collaboration over the years with several of my arrangements, and to my friend Edwin Swanborn for the original typesetting of this score. Gratitude is also due Weekend Edition, Performance Today and innumerable classical stations across the United States for their enthusiastic and repeated airings of my “new” Mozart Quintet endeavors—and most of all, to violist Katherine Murdock for that dare in 1990.—Compiled from the writings of Robert Stallmanby Hannah Woods Stallman,February 2, 2020.

SKU: BT.DHP-1115084-120

9x12 inches. English-German-French-Dutch.

It may be surprising to see a fanfare piece commissioned by a Japanese ensemble, since fanfare orchestras are typically found in Belgium, Holland and Luxembourg, and also France and Switzerland. Senzoku Gakuen is one of the largest and mostprestigious music universities in Japan, and home to a wide variety of ensembles and orchestras. Since 2006 they have had a fanfare orchestra, which was started by Sotaru Fukaishi, a euphonium teacher who felt further performance opportunity wasneeded for saxhorn instruments. Fukaishi had loved the sound of fanfare orchestras ever since visiting the World Music Contest in Kerkrade (Holland) several years earlier. Jan Van der Roost was involved with this new initiative from the beginning,and they were also joined by Manu Mellaerts for certain projects. The Dean of the music department, Professor Kazuo Tomioka, fully supports the ensemble and commissioned Ostinati. The première took place on June 11th at Maeda Hall inMizonokuchi (Kawasaki) where Senzoku Gakuen is based. The piece opens with an impressive timpani solo, followed by brass and saxophone. The rhythmical pulse remains constant and the music is fiery and assertive in character. A pentatonic melodygradually emerges and the music loses its vehemency and softens. The initial percussion ostinati subsequently recurs and the first section of the piece concludes in a similar mood to the opening. The second movement is sweet and melodic, opening witha long passage for the saxophone family in a minor key. The same theme then appears in the major and is developed upon; the music builds to a majestic orchestral forte, reminiscent of a pipe organ in its sonority. The theme returns in the originalminor key with a change in instrumentation leading the movement to a quiet and peaceful end on a soft E minor chord. The finale starts with percussion: a four-bar pattern is repeated several times over which the movement’s melodic themes areintroduced. These melodic elements are varied and used in different versions and the ostinato idea, which characterizes the entire piece, is highlighted. The theme travels through the orchestra, appearing on various instruments and in variousregisters. It captures the listener’s attention and displays the full range of sound and colour within the fanfare orchestra.

Het is misschien verrassend dat dit fanfarewerk is geschreven in opdracht van een Japans ensemble, aangezien fanfareorkesten vooral te vinden zijn in België, Nederland en Luxemburg, en ook wel in Frankrijk en Zwitserland. SenzokuGakuen is een van de grootste en meest prestigieuze muziekopleidingen van Japan, en de thuisbasis van een grote verscheidenheid van ensembles en orkesten. In 2006 is er een fanfareorkest opgericht, en wel door Sotaru Fukaishi, eeneuphoniumdocent die vond dat er meer mogelijkheden moesten komen voor optredens met saxhoorninstrumenten. Fukaishi had enkele jaren daarvoor genoten van de fanfareklank toen hij het Wereld Muziek Concours in Kerkrade bezocht. DeBelgische componist Jan Van der Roost was van het begin af aan betrokken bij dit nieuwe initiatief, en ook Manu Mellaerts werd voor een aantal projecten aangetrokken. Het hoofd van de muziekfaculteit, professor Kazuo Tomioka, staatgeheel achter het ensemble en gaf de opdracht tot het schrijven van Ostinati. De première vond plaats op 11 juni in de Maeda Hall in Mizonokuchi (Kawasaki), waar Senzoku Gakuen is gevestigd. Het werk begint met een indrukwekkendepaukensolo, gevolgd door koper en saxofoon. De ritmische puls blijft constant, en de aard van de muziek is vurig en krachtig. Geleidelijk komt er een pentatonische melodie naar voren en wordt de muziek minder heftig, ze wordtzachter van karakter. De aanvankelijke ostinati in het slagwerk verschijnen dan opnieuw, waarna het eerste deel van het werk eindigt in dezelfde sfeer als waarmee het begon. Het tweede deel is lieflijk en melodisch. Het opentmet een lange passage voor de saxofoons in een mineurtoonsoort. Dan klinkt hetzelfde thema in majeur en daar wordt op voortgeborduurd: de muziek ontwikkelt zich tot een majestueus orkestraal forte, dat qua sonoriteit doet denken

Es mag überraschen, dass dieses Fanfareorchesterwerk ausgerechnet von einem japanischen Ensemble in Auftrag gegeben wurde, da Fanfareorchester doch eher in Belgien, den Niederlanden oder Luxemburg oder auch in Frankreich oder Schweiz zu finden sind. Senzoku Gakuen ist eine der größten und renommiertesten Musikschulen Japans und Heimstätte einer Vielfalt an Ensembles und Orchestern. Im Jahr 2006 wurde ein Fanfareorchester gegründet. Den Anstoß gab Sotaru Fukaishi, ein Euphoniumlehrer, der den Instrumenten der Saxhorn-Familie mehr Spielmöglichkeiten bieten wollte. Fukaishi hatte sich einige Jahre zuvor bei der Weltmeisterschaft in Kerkrade (Holland) in den Klang vonFanfareorchestern verliebt. Jan Van der Roost war von Beginn an in die Entwicklung dieser Idee involviert und, einige Projekte betreffend, ebenso Manu Mellaerts. Der Dekan des Musik-Colleges, Professor Kazuo Tomioka, steht voll und ganz hinter dem Ensemble und gab Ostinati in Auftrag. Die Premiere fand am 11. Juni 2011 in der Maeda Hall in Mizonokuchi statt, dem Heimatort der Schule Senzoku Gakuen. Das Stück beginnt mit einem eindrucksvollen Paukensolo, bevor Blechbläser und Saxophon einsetzen. Der rhythmische Puls bleibt konstant unter einer feurigen, nachdrücklichen Musik. Eine pentatonische Melodie bildet sich nach und nach heraus, während die Musik an Heftigkeit verliert und sanfter wird. Die anfänglichen Ostinati im Schlagwerk kehren zurück und so endet der erste Satz des Werkes in einer der Eröffnung ähnlichen Stimmung. Der zweite Satz ist lieblich und melodiös. Er beginnt mit einem langen Abschnitt für die Saxophone in Moll. Dann erscheint das gleiche Thema in Dur und durchläuft eine Entwicklung; die Musik baut sich zu einem majestätischen orchestralen Forte auf, das in seiner Klangfülle an eine Orgel erinnert. Dann kehrt das Thema in seiner ursprünglichen Moll-Tonart und in veränderter Instrumentierung zurück, um den Satz ruhig und friedvoll in einem e-Moll-Akkord enden zu lassen.

Il pourrait paraître surprenant qu’un ensemble japonais puisse commander une pièce pour orchestre de fanfare, puisque l’on rencontre surtout ce type de formation en Belgique, aux Pays-Bas et au Luxembourg, ainsi qu’en France et en Suisse. Senzoku Gakuen, l’une des plus grandes et plus prestigieuses académies de musique du Japon, compte une grande variété d’ensembles et d’orchestres. En 2006 s’y est ajouté un orchestre de fanfare fondé par Sotaru Fukaishi, un professeur d’euphonium qui pensait qu’il était nécessaire d’offrir de plus larges possibilités aux cuivres de la région. Depuis qu’il avait assisté au World Music Contest de Kerkrade (Pays-Bas), plusieurs années auparavant,Fukaishi se prit de passion pour le son chaud et généreux de l’orchestre de fanfare, une formation atypique au Japon. Jan Van der Roost a favorablement adhéré cette nouvelle initiative, tandis que Manu Mellaerts collabora avec les deux hommes afin de concrétiser certains projets. Le professeur Kazuo Tomioka, doyen du collège de musique, soutint vigoureusement l’orchestre et commanda Ostinati. La création de l’oeuvre fut donnée le 11 juin 2011 au Maeda Hall de Mizonokuchi (Kawasaki), où se trouve Senzoku Gakuen. La pièce débute avec un impressionnant solo de timbales précédant l’entrée des cuivres et des saxophones. La pulsion rythmique est constante, la musique est énergique et de caractère affirmé. Une mélodie pentatonique émerge graduellement, alors que la trame musicale diminue d’intensité et s’adoucit. L’ostinato la percussion revient fréquemment et la première partie de l’oeuvre se termine dans un climat semblable celui du début. Le deuxième mouvement, doux et romancé, débute avec un long passage en mode mineur joué par les saxophones. Le même thème apparaît alors en mode majeur et se développe peu peu ; la musique s’intensifie pour arriver un majestueux et orchestral forte dont les sonorités rappellent celles d’un orgue d’église. Puis le thème revient sa tonalité mineure d’origine avec un changement d’instrumentation qui mène.

SKU: PR.11441998S

UPC: 680160681730. 9 x 12 inches.

The ancient Egyptian empire began around 3100 B.C. and continued for over 3000 years until Alexander the Great conquered the country in 332 B.C. Over the centuries, the Egyptian empire grew and flourished into a highly developed society. They invented hieroglyphics, built towering pyramids (including the Great Pyramid of Giza, the oldest of the Seven Wonders of the World), and the created many household items we still use today, including toothbrushes, toothpaste, eyeliner, black ink, and the forerunner of modern-day paper. Included among their achievements were a series of highly developed funerary practices and beliefs in the Afterlife. As the average lifespan of an Egyptian hovered around 30 years, living past the death of oneAs physical body was a legitimate concern. Egyptians believed that upon death, their souls would undertake a harrowing journey through the Netherworld. If they survived the horrific creatures and arduous trials that awaited them, then their souls would be reunified with their bodies (hence the need to preserve the body through mummification) and live forever in a perfect version of the life they had lived in Egypt. To achieve this, Egyptians devised around 200 magical spells and incantations to aid souls on the path to the Afterlife. These spells are collectively called The Book of the Dead. Particular spells would be chosen by the family of the deceased and inscribed on the tombAs walls and scrolls of papyrus, as well as on a stone scarab placed over the deceasedAs heart. Subsequent collections of spells and mortuary texts, such as The Book of Gates, assisted a soul in navigating the twelve stages of the Netherworld. Not only did these spells protect and guide the soul on this dangerous path, but they also served as a safeguard against any unbecoming behavior an Egyptian did while alive. For instance, if a person had robbed another while alive, there was a spell that would prevent the soulAs heart from revealing the truth when in the Hall of Judgment. Rites for the Afterlife follows the path of a soul to the Afterlife. In Inscriptions from the Book of the Dead (movement 1), the soul leaves the body and begins the journey, protected by spells and incantations written on the tombAs walls. In Passage though the Netherworld (movement 2), the soul is now on a funerary barque, being towed through the Netherworld by four of the regionAs inhabitants. We hear the soul slowly chanting incantations as the barque encounters demons, serpents, crocodiles, lakes of fire, and other terrors. The soul arrives at The Hall of Judgment in movement 3. Standing before forty-two divine judges, the soul addresses each by name and gives a A!negative confessionA(r) connected to each judge (i.e. A!I did not rob,A(r) A!I did not do violence,A(r) and so on). Afterwards, the soulAs heart is put on a scale to be weighed against a feather of MaAat, the goddess of truth. If the heart weighs more than the feather, it will be eaten by Ammut, a hideous creature that lies in wait below the scale, and the soul will die a second and permanent death (this was the worst fear of the Egyptians). But if the heart is in balance with the feather, the soul proceeds onward. The final stage of the journey is the arrival at The Field of Reeds (movement 4), which is a perfect mirror image of the soulAs life in ancient Egypt. The soul reunites with deceased family members, makes sacrifices to the Egyptian gods and goddess, harvests crops from plentiful fields of wheat under a brilliant blue sky, and lives forever next to the abundant and nourishing waters of the Nile. Rites for the Afterlife was commissioned by the Barlow Endowment on behalf of the Akropolis Reed Quintet, Calefax Reed Quintet, and the Brigham Young University Reed Quintet. -S.G.

SKU: PR.41641576L

UPC: 680160636549. 11 x 17 inches.

The 1712 Overture stands out in P.D.Q. Bach's oeuvre for two reasons, among others: it is by far the most programmatic instrumental piece among those by the minimeister of Wein-am-Rhein so far unearthed, and 2) its discovery has led to a revelation about the composer's father, Johann Sebastian Bach, that has exploded like a bombshell on the usually serene musicological landscape. The overture is based on an anecdote told to P.D.Q. Bach by a cousin, Peter Ulrich. Since P.U. Bach lived in Dudeldorf, only a few miles down the road from Wein-am-Rhein, he was P.D.Q.'s closest relative, and he was, in fact, one of the few members of the family who was on speaking terms with P.D.Q. The story, related to P.D.Q. (fortunately for us posterity types) in a letter, may be summarized thus: The town of Dudeldorf was founded by two brothers, Rudi and Dieter Dudel, early in the 18th century. Rudi remained mayor of the newborn burg for the rest of his long life, but Dieter had a dream of starting a musicians' colony, an entire city devoted to music, which dream, he finally decided, could be realized only in the New World. In 1712, he and several other bagpipers sailed to Boston, never to return to Germany. (Henceforth, Rudi became known as der deutscher Dudel and Dieter as the Yankee Dudel). Unfortunately, the head of the Boston Musicians' Guild had gotten wind of Dudel's plans, and Wilhelm Wiesel (pron. VEE-zle), known none too affectionately around town as Wiesel the Weasel, was not about to share what few gigs there were in colonial America with more foreigners and outside agitators. He and his cronies were on hand to meet Dudel's boat when it pulled into Boston Harbor; they intended to prevent the newcomers' disembarkation, but Dudel and his companions managed to escape to the other side of the bay in a dinghy, landing with just enough time to rent a carriage and horses before hearing the sound of The Weasel and his men, who had had to come around the long way. The Germans headed West, with the Bostonians in furious pursuit. soon the city had been left far behind, and by midnight so had the pursuers; Dieter Dudel decided that it was safe for him and his men to stop and sleep until daybreak. When they awoke, they found that they were in a beautiful landscape of low, forested mountains and pleasant fields, warmed by the brilliant morning sun and serenaded by an entrancing variety of birds. Here, Dudel thought, her is where I will build my colony. The immigrants continued down the road at a leisurely pace until they came upon a little church, all by itself in the countryside, from which there suddenly emanated the sounds of a pipe organ. At this point, the temptation to quote from P.U. Bach's letter to P.D.Q. cannot be resisted: They went inside and, after listening to the glorious music for a while, introduced themselves to the organist. And who do you think it was? Are you ready for this -- it was your old man! Hey, no kidding -- you know, I'm sure, that your father was the guy to get when it came to testing new organs, and whoever had that one in Massachusetts built offered old Sebastian a tidy sum to go over there and check it out. The unexpected meeting with J.S. Bach and his sponsors was interrupted by the sound of horse hooves, as the dreaded Wiesel and his men thundered on to the scene. They had been riding all night, however, and they were no spring chickens to start with, and as soon as they reached the church they all dropped, exhausted, to the ground. The elated Germans rang the church bells and offered to buy everyone a beer at the nearest tavern. There they were taught, and joined in singing, what might be called the national anthem of the New World. The melody of this pre-revolutionary patriotic song is still remembered (P.D.Q. Bach quotes it, in the bass instruments, near the end of the overture), but is words are now all but forgotten: Freedom, of thee we sing, Freedom e'er is our goal; Death to the English King, Long live Rock and Ross. The striking paucity of biographical references to Johann Sebastian Bah during the year 1712 can now be explained: he was abroad for a significant part of that year, testing organs in the British Colonies. That this revelation has not been accepted as fact by the musicological establishment is no surprise, since it means that a lot of books would have to be rewritten. The members of that establishment haven't even accepted the existence of P.D.Q. Bach, one of whose major works the 1712 Overture certainly is. It is also a work that shows Tchaikowsky up as the shameless plagiarizer that some of us have always known he was. The discovery of this awesome opus was made possible by a Boston Pops Centennial Research Commission; the first modern performance took place at the opening concert of the 100th anniversary season of that orchestra, under the exciting but authentic direction of John Williams.

SKU: PR.11642143S

UPC: 680160693313. 11 x 17 inches.

For most of my life, I never knew where my father’s family came from, beyond a few broad strokes: they had emigrated in the early 1900s from Eastern Europe and altered the family name along the way. This radically changed in the summer of 2021 when my mother and sister came across a folder in our family filing cabinet and made an astounding discovery of documents that revealed when, where, and how my great-grandfather came to America. The information I had been seeking was at home all along, waiting over forty years to be discovered.Berko Gorobzoff, my great-grandfather, left Ekaterinoslav in 1904. At that time, this city was in the southern Russian area of modern-day Ukraine; as his family was Jewish, he and his siblings were attempting to escape the ongoing religious persecution and pogroms instigated by Tzar Nicholas II to root out Jewish people from Russia. Berko’s older brother Jakob had already emigrated to Illinois, and Berko was traveling with Chaje, Jakob’s wife, to join him. Their timing was fortuitous, as the following year saw a series of massive, brutal pogroms in the region. After arriving in Illinois, Berko went on to Omaha, Nebraska, where he married my great-grandmother Anna about eighteen months later. They remained in Omaha for the rest of their lives.There is one more intriguing part to this historical account: I have a great-aunt in Texas who, as it turns out, is the youngest daughter of Berko and Anna. Through a series of phone calls, my great-aunt and I discussed what she could remember: her parents spoke Yiddish at home, her mother didn’t learn to read or write in English so my great-aunt was tasked with writing letters to family members, Berko ran a grocery store followed by a small hotel, and her parents enjoyed playing poker with friends. Above all else, neither of her parents ever spoke a word about their past or how they got to America. This was a common trait among Eastern European Jewish immigrants whose goal was to “blend in” within their new communities and country.To craft Berko’s Journey, I melded the facts I uncovered about Berko with my own research into methods of transportation in the early 1900s. Also, to represent his heritage, I wove two Yiddish songs and one Klezmer tune into the work. In movement 1, Leaving Ekaterinoslav, we hear Berko packing his belongings, saying his goodbyes to family and friends, and walking to the train station. Included in this movement is a snippet of the Yiddish song “The Miller’s Tears” which references how the Jews were driven out of their villages by the Russian army. In movement 2, In Transit, we follow Berko as he boards a train and then a steamship, sails across the Atlantic Ocean, arrives at Ellis Island and anxiously waits in line for immigration, jubilantly steps foot into New York City, and finally boards a train that will take him to Chicago. While he’s on the steamship, we hear a group of fellow steerage musicians play a klezmer tune (“Freylachs in d minor”). In movement 3, At Home in Omaha, we hear Berko court and marry Anna. Their courtship is represented by “Tumbalalaika,” a Yiddish puzzle folksong in which a man asks a woman a series of riddles in order to get better acquainted with each other and to test her intellect.On a final note, I crafted a musical motive to represent Berko throughout the piece. This motive is heard at the beginning of the first movement; its first pitches are B and E, which represent the first two letters of Berko’s name. I scatter this theme throughout the piece as Berko travels towards a new world and life. As the piece concludes, we hear Berko’s theme repeatedly and in close succession, representing the descendants of the Garrop line that came from Berko and Anna.
For most of my life, I never knew where my father’s family came from, beyond a few broad strokes: they had emigrated in the early 1900s from Eastern Europe and altered the family name along the way. This radically changed in the summer of 2021 when my mother and sister came across a folder in our family filing cabinet and made an astounding discovery of documents that revealed when, where, and how my great-grandfather came to America. The information I had been seeking was at home all along, waiting over forty years to be discovered.Berko Gorobzoff, my great-grandfather, left Ekaterinoslav in 1904. At that time, this city was in the southern Russian area of modern-day Ukraine; as his family was Jewish, he and his siblings were attempting to escape the ongoing religious persecution and pogroms instigated by Tzar Nicholas II to root out Jewish people from Russia. Berko’s older brother Jakob had already emigrated to Illinois, and Berko was traveling with Chaje, Jakob’s wife, to join him. Their timing was fortuitous, as the following year saw a series of massive, brutal pogroms in the region. After arriving in Illinois, Berko went on to Omaha, Nebraska, where he married my great-grandmother Anna about eighteen months later. They remained in Omaha for the rest of their lives.There is one more intriguing part to this historical account: I have a great-aunt in Texas who, as it turns out, is the youngest daughter of Berko and Anna. Through a series of phone calls, my great-aunt and I discussed what she could remember: her parents spoke Yiddish at home, her mother didn’t learn to read or write in English so my great-aunt was tasked with writing letters to family members, Berko ran a grocery store followed by a small hotel, and her parents enjoyed playing poker with friends. Above all else, neither of her parents ever spoke a word about their past or how they got to America. This was a common trait among Eastern European Jewish immigrants whose goal was to “blend in” within their new communities and country.To craftxa0Berko’s Journey,xa0I melded the facts I uncovered about Berko with my own research into methods of transportation in the early 1900s. Also, to represent his heritage, I wove two Yiddish songs and one Klezmer tune into the work. In movement 1,xa0Leaving Ekaterinoslav,xa0we hear Berko packing his belongings, saying his goodbyes to family and friends, and walking to the train station. Included in this movement is a snippet of the Yiddish song “The Miller’s Tears” which references how the Jews were driven out of their villages by the Russian army. In movement 2,xa0In Transit,xa0we follow Berko as he boards a train and then a steamship, sails across the Atlantic Ocean, arrives at Ellis Island and anxiously waits in line for immigration, jubilantly steps foot into New York City, and finally boards a train that will take him to Chicago. While he’s on the steamship, we hear a group of fellow steerage musicians play a klezmer tune (“Freylachs in d minor”). In movement 3,xa0At Home in Omaha,xa0we hear Berko court and marry Anna. Their courtship is represented by “Tumbalalaika,” a Yiddish puzzle folksong in which a man asks a woman a series of riddles in order to get better acquainted with each other and to test her intellect.On a final note, I crafted a musical motive to represent Berko throughout the piece. This motive is heard at the beginning of the first movement; its first pitches are B and E, which represent the first two letters of Berko’s name. I scatter this theme throughout the piece as Berko travels towards a new world and life. As the piece concludes, we hear Berko’s theme repeatedly and in close succession, representing the descendants of the Garrop line that came from Berko and Anna.

SKU: PR.465000130

ISBN 9781598064070. UPC: 680160600144. 9x12 inches.

Following a celebrated series of wind ensemble tone poems about national parks in the American West, Dan Welcher’s Upriver celebrates the Lewis & Clark Expedition from the Missouri River to Oregon’s Columbia Gorge, following the Louisiana Purchase of 1803. Welcher’s imaginative textures and inventiveness are freshly modern, evoking our American heritage, including references to Shenandoah and other folk songs known to have been sung on the expedition. For advanced players. Duration: 14’.
In 1803, President Thomas Jefferson sent Meriwether Lewis and William Clark’s Corps of Discovery to find a water route to the Pacific and explore the uncharted West. He believed woolly mammoths, erupting volcanoes, and mountains of pure salt awaited them. What they found was no less mind-boggling: some 300 species unknown to science, nearly 50 Indian tribes, and the Rockies.Ihave been a student of the Lewis and Clark expedition, which Thomas Jefferson called the “Voyage of Discovery,” for as long as I can remember. This astonishing journey, lasting more than two-and-a-half years, began and ended in St. Louis, Missouri — and took the travelers up more than a few rivers in their quest to find the Northwest Passage to the Pacific Ocean. In an age without speedy communication, this was akin to space travel out of radio range in our own time: no one knew if, indeed, the party had even survived the voyage for more than a year. Most of them were soldiers. A few were French-Canadian voyageurs — hired trappers and explorers, who were fluent in French (spoken extensively in the region, due to earlier explorers from France) and in some of the Indian languages they might encounter. One of the voyageurs, a man named Pierre Cruzatte, also happened to be a better-than-average fiddle player. In many respects, the travelers were completely on their own for supplies and survival, yet, incredibly, only one of them died during the voyage. Jefferson had outfitted them with food, weapons, medicine, and clothing — and along with other trinkets, a box of 200 jaw harps to be used in trading with the Indians. Their trip was long, perilous to the point of near catastrophe, and arduous. The dream of a Northwest Passage proved ephemeral, but the northwestern quarter of the continent had finally been explored, mapped, and described to an anxious world. When the party returned to St. Louis in 1806, and with the Louisiana Purchase now part of the United States, they were greeted as national heroes.Ihave written a sizeable number of works for wind ensemble that draw their inspiration from the monumental spaces found in the American West. Four of them (Arches, The Yellowstone Fires, Glacier, and Zion) take their names, and in large part their being, from actual national parks in Utah, Wyoming, and Montana. But Upriver, although it found its voice (and its finale) in the magnificent Columbia Gorge in Oregon, is about a much larger region. This piece, like its brother works about the national parks, doesn’t try to tell a story. Instead, it captures the flavor of a certain time, and of a grand adventure. Cast in one continuous movement and lasting close to fourteen minutes, the piece falls into several subsections, each with its own heading: The Dream (in which Jefferson’s vision of a vast expanse of western land is opened); The Promise, a chorale that re-appears several times in the course of the piece and represents the seriousness of the presidential mission; The River; The Voyageurs; The River II ; Death and Disappointment; Return to the Voyage; and The River III .The music includes several quoted melodies, one of which is familiar to everyone as the ultimate “river song,” and which becomes the through-stream of the work. All of the quoted tunes were either sung by the men on the voyage, or played by Cruzatte’s fiddle. From various journals and diaries, we know the men found enjoyment and solace in music, and almost every night encampment had at least a bit of music in it. In addition to Cruzatte, there were two other members of the party who played the fiddle, and others made do with singing, or playing upon sticks, bones, the ever-present jaw harps, and boat horns. From Lewis’ journals, I found all the tunes used in Upriver: Shenandoah (still popular after more than 200 years), V’la bon vent, Soldier’s Joy, Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier, Come Ye Sinners Poor and Needy (a hymn sung to the tune “Beech Spring”) and Fisher’s Hornpipe. The work follows an emotional journey: not necessarily step-by-step with the Voyage of Discovery heroes, but a kind of grand arch. Beginning in the mists of history and myth, traversing peaks and valleys both real and emotional (and a solemn funeral scene), finding help from native people, and recalling their zeal upon finding the one great river that will, in fact, take them to the Pacific. When the men finally roar through the Columbia Gorge in their boats (a feat that even the Indians had not attempted), the magnificent river combines its theme with the chorale of Jefferson’s Promise. The Dream is fulfilled: not quite the one Jefferson had imagined (there is no navigable water passage from the Missouri to the Pacific), but the dream of a continental destiny.

SKU: BT.DHP-1125214-020

9x12 inches. English-German-French-Dutch.

On a war memorial in the Dutch village of Wons is engraved a list of names to honour the fallen in World War II. This is the basis for the name of this piece. However, this composition was written for everyone who has made Wons what it is today: a pretty place near to Lake IJssel with a comfortable way of life. The piece begins with a celebratory introduction in which the village is presented to the listener. There follows a delightful rhythmic and high-tempo theme that reflects the happiness, innocence and carefree atmosphere before the war. Now we hear a moody, fragmented theme depicting soldiers shooting. This is brought to a close with dissonant clusters of sound,intoning the dreadful tragedy of the war. The ensuing quiet gives way to a calm middle section in a minor key that portrays both frustration and consolation. The fast tempo of the beginning returns, this time in the form of a victory march. We hear freedom being celebrated. We hear the previous happy, innocent and carefree themes, too. There follows a festive, martial theme, a tribute to the village, before the piece closes with sounds of celebration.

Op de gedenksteen in het Friese dorp Wons staat een erelijst (roll of honour) gegraveerd ter nagedachtenis aan de gevallenen van de Tweede Wereldoorlog. De titel van dit werk verwijst naar deze lijst. Deze compositie is echter tevens geschreven voor alle mensen die Wons hebben gemaakt tot wat het nu is: een prachtig dorpje vlak bij het IJsselmeer waar het prettig toeven is. De compositie begint met een statige inleiding, waarin het dorp zich presenteert aan de luisteraar. Dan klinkt een aansprekend ritmisch thema in een snel tempo dat de vrolijkheid, onbevangenheid en onbezorgdheid van voor de oorlog uitstraalt. Dit gaat over in een melodie in mineur, die het naderendeoorlogsgevaar aankondigt. Dan is er een grillig thema met stops waarin het schieten van de soldaten te horen is. Dit eindigt in enkele dissonante clusters die het tragische dieptepunt van de oorlog accentueren. De daaropvolgende stilte lost op in een gedragen middendeel in mineur waaruit enerzijds verdriet en anderzijds troost spreekt. Dan komt het snelle tempo van het begin weer terug, ditmaal in de vorm van een vreugdemars. De vrijheid wordt gevierd. Ook het thema van de vrolijkheid, onbevangenheid en onbezorgdheid is weer te horen. Er volgt nu een statig martiaal thema, een eerbetoon aan het dorp, waarna het werk wordt afgesloten met feestelijke klanken.

Auf einem Gedenkstein im niederländischen Dorf Wons ist eine Namensliste zu Ehren der Gefallenen im Zweiten Weltkrieg eingraviert. Auf diese bezieht sich der Titel des Werkes, der wörtlich übersetzt ‘Ehrenliste’ bedeutet. Diese Komposition wurde jedoch für alle Menschen geschrieben, die Wons zu dem gemacht haben, was es heute ist: ein schöner Ort nahe des IJsselmeeres, in dem es sich gut leben lässt. Das Werk beginnt mit einer feierlichen Einleitung, in welcher sich das Dorf dem Zuhörer präsentiert. Dann erklingt ein reizvolles rhythmisches und temporeiches Thema, das die Fröhlichkeit, Unbefangenheit und Sorglosigkeit vor dem Krieg ausstrahlt. Dieses geht in eine Moll-Melodieüber, welche von der nahenden Kriegsgefahr kündet. Dann erklingt ein launenhaftes Thema mit Unterbrechungen, in dem das Schießen der Soldaten zu hören ist. Dieses endet in einigen dissonanten Clustern, die den tragischen Tiefpunkt des Krieges betonen. Die darauffolgende Stille löst sich in einen ruhigen Mittelteil in Moll auf, aus dem einerseits Verdruss und andererseits Trost spricht. Dann kehrt das schnelle Tempo des Anfangs zurück, dieses Mal in der Form eines Freudenmarsches. Die Freiheit wird gefeiert. Auch das Thema der Fröhlichkeit, Unbefangenheit und Sorglosigkeit ist wieder zu hören. Nun folgt ein feierliches, martialisches Thema, eine Ehrerbietung an das Dorf, bevor das Werk mit festlichen Klängen endet.

Sur le monument aux morts du village néerlandais de Wons est gravée une liste de noms en hommage aux soldats tombés lors de la Seconde Guerre mondiale. Ce monument a inspiré le titre de cette composition. Mais celle-ci a aussi été écrite pour toutes les personnes qui ont donné Wons son caractère d’aujourd’hui : un joli village proche du lac d’IJssel où il fait bon vivre. La pièce débute par une introduction festive qui présente le village l’auditeur. S’ensuit un thème allègre et délicieusement rythmique qui reflète l’ambiance joyeuse, na ve et optimiste de l’avant-guerre. Puis nous entendons un motif sombre et fragmenté, représentant les fusillades ciblant les soldats. Cettepartie se termine par un faisceau de sons dissonants traduisant le caractère tragique de la guerre. Le calme revient avec un passage tranquille en mineur qui évoque la fois la frustration et l’apaisement. Le tempo du début est repris, cette fois sous la forme d’une marche victorieuse. Puis résonnent les accents premiers de gaieté, d’innocence et d’insouciance, invoquant la célébration de la liberté. Un thème martial et festif en hommage au village nous mène un pétillant finale.

SKU: BT.GOB-000854-120

The tradition of the Christmas tree in Western Europe dates back to a time long before any Christianization had taken place. During the severely cold winter nights, so it was believed, evil spirits tried to ‘kill’ nature. Needle-leaved trees were the only ones which kept their green colour throughout the year, and therefore became symbols of immortality. These ‘living’ trees, said to be the work of benign spirits, were brought into people’s houses to ward off evil, life-threatening powers. In the 14th century people first started to decorate Christmas trees. It was a pagan custom, originated by the inhabitants of Alsace. This custom was taken over by the Church in thecourse of the 15th and 16th century. At first the decoration consisted mainly of edibles, such as apples and wafers, but later small presents were added. Legend has it that the reformer Martin Luther was the first person to decorate a Christmas tree with candles. The flickering candle flames were meant to create the image of a starry sky in which Christ’s apparition could be recognized. The German organ-player Ernst Anschütz from Leipzig was the first person to notate the song ‘O Tannenbaum’, the melody being a well-known folk song. Next to ‘Stille Nacht’ ‘O Tannenbaum’ is the most famous German Christmas song, now known throughout the world. In the United States of America the melody of ‘O Tannenbaum’ has even been used in four States (among which the State of Maryland) for their State song. In David Well’s arrangement the song is first heard as many of us know it. After this introduction, however, it is transformed into a solid rock version, and the beat has been changed. In the second part the familiar three-four time is back, but here the rhythm is different from the original. After the richly ornamented rock beat the basic theme can be heard once again and the composition is concluded in a festive manner.

De traditie van de ‘Kerstboom’ gaat in West-Europa terug tot ver voordat er van enige kerstening sprake was. Gedurende de koude strenge winters dacht men dat kwade geesten de natuur ‘vermoordde’. Naaldbomen behielden als enige hungroene kleur en werden daardoor symbolen van onsterflijkheid. Deze ‘levende’ bomen, het werk van goede machten, werden in huis gehaald om kwade geesten en levensbedreigende krachten buitenshuis te houden. Van ‘versierde’ kerstbomenwas het eerst sprake in de 14e eeuw. Het was een heidens gebruik, dat in deze periode in de Elzas voorkwam. Tijdens de 15e en 16e eeuw werd het versieren van de kerstboom door de kerk overgenomen. De versiering bestond in eersteinstantie vooral uit etenswaar, als appels en koekjes. Later ging men ook kleine cadeautjes als versiering gebruiken. Er wordt beweerd dat Martin Luther, de hervormer, als eerste kaarsen in een kerstboom deed. De fonkelendevlammetjes creëerden een sterrenhemel waarin men Christus’ verschijning leek te herkennen. De Duitse organist Ernst Anschütz uit Leipzig, was de eerste die het lied ‘O Tannenbaum’ op schrift stelde. De melodie was een bekend volkswijsje.Naast ‘Stille Nacht’ is ‘O Tannenbaum’ het meest bekende kerstlied dat vanuit Duitsland de hele wereld veroverde. De melodie van ‘O Tannenbaum’ wordt zelfs in de Verenigde Staten van Amerika in vier verschillende staten(o.a. Maryland) als volkslied gebruikt. In het arrangement van David Well hoort u het lied eerst op de manier zoals velen het kennen. Na deze inleiding klinkt een stevige rock-versie en is de maatsoort niet meer de gebruikelijke.Het tussendeel is weer in de vertrouwde driekwarts-maatsoort. Hier is echter de ritmiek in een ander jasje gestoken. Na de rijkelijk met slingers versierde rock-beat klinkt nog één keer het oorspronkelijke thema om daarna feestelijk.

SKU: PR.411411630

ISBN 9781491137635. UPC: 680160691081. English. Intimate Apparel by Lynn Nottage.

Originally an award-winning play, Lynn Nottage’s INTIMATE APPAREL was inspired by her great-grandmother’s life in New York in the early 20th century. The Pulitzer-laureate also created the libretto for Ricky Ian Gordon’s grand-yet-intimate opera whose complete instrumentation is two pianos. The story follows the life of a young, single seamstress who has recently emigrated from Barbados, the fascinating cast of characters in her life, and her socially-unacceptable feelings of affection for a Jewish fabric salesman. The premiere production of this 2½-hour drama was televised nationally from Lincoln Center on PBS’s “Great Performances.”.
Intimate Apparel began with an old photograph that I found haphazardly wedged between the pages of a Family Circle magazine. I was helping my grandmother, who’d developed debilitating senile dementia, move from her longtime home in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. In the midst of a pile of weathered magazines I discovered a black and white passport photograph of my grandmother Waple and her younger sister Eurita sitting on their mother’s lap. It was the first time I’d ever seen an image of my great-grandmother Ethel, a striking woman with high West African cheekbones and a gentle intensity. She had been a seamstress from Barbados, who at the age of 18 arrived alone in New York City at the dawn of the Twentieth Century. The image invited a thousand questions, none that could be answered by the living, and it led me on a journey to piece together the history of my great-grandmother Ethel, a woman who was basically a stranger to me. The only clue that I had about Ethel, was a story that my grandmother had once told me about her mother corresponding with a man laboring on the Panama Canal, who would eventually become her husband. I was fascinated by this story, which served as the inspiration for INTIMATE APPAREL.As I began my research for INTIMATE APPAREL at the New York Public Library, I discovered that lives of Black working women in the early 1900s were woefully absent from the archive. So, I found myself perusing help wanted listings, boarding house and clothing advertisements, looking for any sign of women like my great-grandmother on the printed page. As I was doing so, I began to find the characters that would populate the world of INTIMATE APPAREL; Esther the lonely seamstress, Mrs. Dickson the proprietress of the boardinghouse for Black women, Mr. Marks the Jewish fabric salesman on the Lower Eastside, Mrs. Van Buren the wealthy white socialite on the Upper Eastside, Mayme the sex worker in the tenderloin, and George the laborer toiling on the Panama Canal. As I was conjuring the characters, I realized that I was interested in the unexpected intersections between class, race, and gender at the turn of the Twentieth Century, and what happens when people across cultural and economic divides are thrust into spaces of intimacy.INTIMATE APPAREL began its life as a popular play, but it was the brilliant composer Ricky Ian Gordon who invited me to consider adapting it into an opera. He saw something epic and expansive in the life of Esther that he felt demanded to be sung, and with his loving guidance I was able to write my first libretto. It took me several tries to figure out how to wrestle my play into a form that was new to me. As a playwright, I kept wanting to maintain absolute control of the narrative. But, it was Ricky’s words that freed me creatively to find my way into the libretto. He said, “You’re not trusting my music as a narrative tool; I can say “I love you” without any words, with just music. So, allow me to be your collaborator on the storytelling.” And once he said that, we found INTIMATE APPAREL the opera together.