Orchestra SKU: PR.416415760 For Really Big Orchestra. Composed by ...(+)
Orchestra
SKU:
PR.416415760
For
Really Big Orchestra.
Composed by PDQ Bach.
Edited by Prof. Peter
Schickele. Study Score.
With Standard notation.
Duration 11 minutes.
Theodore Presser Company
#416-41576. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(PR.416415760).
UPC:
680160636532. 9 x 12
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.
Orchestra SKU: PR.41641576L For Really Big Orchestra. Composed by ...(+)
Orchestra
SKU:
PR.41641576L
For
Really Big Orchestra.
Composed by PDQ Bach.
Edited by Peter
Schickele. Large Score.
With Standard notation.
Duration 11 minutes.
Theodore Presser Company
#416-41576L. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(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.
