SKU: CF.CPS224

ISBN 9781491152508. UPC: 680160910007.

Rainb ow in the Clouds is based on an old traditional spiritual, possibly an African-American song from the 19th century, entitled God Put a Rainbow in the Clouds.  Composer Carol Brittin Chambers was inspired by poetic Maya Angelou to create of setting of this beautiful song. It is lush and beautiful throughout and will highlight the musicianship of your students.  This would serve as a welcome change of pace piece on your program for concert or contest.
Rainbow in the Clouds was commissioned by the Pflugerville Middle School Wind Ensemble in Pflugerville, Texas, directed by Shauna Satrom. The piece premiered in May 2017, in memory and celebration of Luis Ham, who was an Assistant Principal at Pflugerville Middle School.This piece is based on an old traditional spiritual, possibly an African-American song from the nineteenth century, entitled God Put a Rainbow in the Clouds. The first time I heard reference to this song was in a Maya Angelou video, in which she sings a portion of it: “When it looked like the sun wouldn’t shine anymore, Oh, God put a rainbow in the clouds.” In the video, Dr. Angelou honors those who have demonstrated kindness to her in the past, and she suggests that we all try to be a blessing to others. The Pflugerville community believed that Mr. Ham, with his positive outlook, was definitely a “rainbow in the clouds” for other people.The piece begins with a full ensemble introduction, followed by a woodwind treatment of the first verse with a fairly reserved tempo and straight eighth-note rhythm. When brass pick up the melody on the second phrase, we start to hear the song more like the original spiritual, with dotted-eighth, sixteenth rhythms. The middle section of the piece at m. 22 begins to move at a slightly quicker tempo, and the mood becomes lighter. This section becomes a call-and-response between a euphonium solo and upper woodwinds. The final section of the piece involves everyone playing together joyously and full, eventually winding down with two more solo statements in flute and euphonium.Note to the Conductor:Use this piece to introduce or reinforce the following musical concepts:Lyrical, expressive playing varied stylesSolo responsibilitiesKey changes, tempo changes.

SKU: CF.CPS224F

ISBN 9781491153185. UPC: 680160910687.

Rainb ow in the Clouds is based on an old traditional spiritual, possibly an African-American song from the 19th century, entitled God Put a Rainbow in the Clouds.  Composer Carol Brittin Chambers was inspired by poetic Maya Angelou to create of setting of this beautiful song. It is lush and beautiful throughout and will highlight the musicianship of your students.  This would serve as a welcome change of pace piece on your program for concert or contest.
Rainbow in the Clouds was commissioned by the Pflugerville Middle School Wind Ensemble in Pflugerville, Texas, directed by Shauna Satrom. The piece premiered in May 2017, in memory and celebration of Luis Ham, who was an Assistant Principal at Pflugerville Middle School.This piece is based on an old traditional spiritual, possibly an African-American song from the nineteenth century, entitled God Put a Rainbow in the Clouds. The first time I heard reference to this song was in a Maya Angelou video, in which she sings a portion of it: “When it looked like the sun wouldn’t shine anymore, Oh, God put a rainbow in the clouds.” In the video, Dr. Angelou honors those who have demonstrated kindness to her in the past, and she suggests that we all try to be a blessing to others. The Pflugerville community believed that Mr. Ham, with his positive outlook, was definitely a “rainbow in the clouds” for other people.The piece begins with a full ensemble introduction, followed by a woodwind treatment of the first verse with a fairly reserved tempo and straight eighth-note rhythm. When brass pick up the melody on the second phrase, we start to hear the song more like the original spiritual, with dotted-eighth, sixteenth rhythms. The middle section of the piece at m. 22 begins to move at a slightly quicker tempo, and the mood becomes lighter. This section becomes a call-and-response between a euphonium solo and upper woodwinds. The final section of the piece involves everyone playing together joyously and full, eventually winding down with two more solo statements in flute and euphonium.Note to the Conductor:Use this piece to introduce or reinforce the following musical concepts:Lyrical, expressive playing varied stylesSolo responsibilitiesKey changes, tempo changes.

SKU: CF.PL1056

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

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

SKU: 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.”.
Inti mate 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.

SKU: CF.CM9734

ISBN 9781491161142. UPC: 680160919734. Key: A minor. English. Basque Carol.

A Basque Carol (also known as Gabriel's Message) holds a special place in Western music. The carol originates from Basque country around the 13th century, based on the Latin hymn, Angelus ad Virginem (likely of Franciscan origin). The tune quickly spread throughout Europe, finding popularity in Britain where it was even referenced in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales: Playing so sweetly that the chamber rang; / and Angelus ad virginem he sang. . .. Interestingly, the melody we know and love today is derived from the original Basque version. In my view, this tune is a perfect example of melody-crafting. It is at once hauntingly beautiful, yet warm and joyous. Its contours are complex, dramatic, yet singable. I believe this melodic accessibility is the key to the song's lasting popularity. I would also attribute A Basque Carol's continued popularity to its elegant translation into English (by Sabine Baring-Gould, who rediscovered the original Basque tune). Translations often risk sounding unimaginative, coarse, and blunt. This translation is strikingly different. It was graced with an especially poetic translation including lines such as his wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame. I am very excited to offer a new perspective on this classic carol, joining the tradition of composers preserving and reimagining a priceless medieval melody. My first goal was to create a flowing, richly-textured, even cinematic string accompaniment for the choir. This approach was very much inspired by the dense, string-writing style of English composer Ralph Vaughan Williams. My second goal was to make the arrangement flexible enough to be performed with only choir, only strings, or (best of all) both ensembles combined. To further complement this approach, I've added an obligato line for a solo recorder (solo flute or violin work just as well). If you listen carefully, you will hear a quote from my other favorite holiday carol, Jesu Bambino. I hope you enjoy performing A Basque Carol. I especially hope that you sense the ancient magic cast into this tune, hearing the ineffable qualities that have compelled us to sustain it for nearly a millennium. Whether you're a choir, a string orchestra, or a combined ensemble, this arrangement of A Basque Carol will surely be a haunting and lovely addition to your next holiday program!.
A Basque Carol (also known as Gabriel’s Message) holds a special place in Western music. The carol originates from Basque country around the 13th century, based on the Latin hymn, Angelus ad Virginem (likely of Franciscan origin). The tune quickly spread throughout Europe, finding popularity in Britain where it was even referenced in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales:  “Playing so sweetly that the chamber rang; / and Angelus ad virginem he sang. . .”.Interestingly, the melody we know and love today is derived from the original Basque version. In my view, this tune is a perfect example of melody-crafting. It is at once hauntingly beautiful, yet warm and joyous. Its contours are complex, dramatic, yet singable. I believe this melodic accessibility is the key to the song’s lasting popularity. I would also attribute A Basque Carol’s continued popularity to its elegant translation into English (by Sabine Baring-Gould, who rediscovered the original Basque tune). Translations often risk sounding unimaginative, coarse, and blunt. This translation is strikingly different. It was graced with an especially poetic translation including lines such as “his wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame.”I am very excited to offer a new perspective on this classic carol, joining the tradition of composers preserving and reimagining a priceless medieval melody. My first goal was to create a flowing, richly-textured, even cinematic string accompaniment for the choir. This approach was very much inspired by the dense, string-writing style of English composer Ralph Vaughan Williams. My second goal was to make the arrangement flexible enough to be performed with only choir, only strings, or (best of all) both ensembles combined. To further complement this approach, I’ve added an obligato line for a solo recorder (solo flute or violin work just as well). If you listen carefully, you will hear a quote from my other favorite holiday carol, Jesu Bambino.I hope you enjoy performing A Basque Carol. I especially hope that you sense the ancient magic cast into this tune, hearing the ineffable qualities that have compelled us to sustain it for nearly a millennium. Whether you’re a choir, a string orchestra, or a combined ensemble, this arrangement of A Basque Carol will surely be a haunting and lovely addition to your next holiday program!

Very little is known about the two sonatas which appear here in their original keys. They were placed in the library of the Music School in Oxford at the end of the seventeenth century in a form convenient for playing (i.e.unbound). The library was catalogued by Hake between 1850 and 1855 and the sonatas were eventually bound in 1855 with other instrumental and vocal manuscripts of the same period, some of which are dated 1698.

Thesonatas are both inscribed on the title page Sonata à Violone Solo. Col Basso per l'Organo, o Cembalo. A third sonata bears the words Sonata à Violino e Violoncino … di Giovannino del Violone.Giovannino(=Littl e, or Young John) must have been a performer, and although the third sonata has been copied by a different hand, it is conceivable that Giovannino is a connecting link between the three. He cannot, however, beassumed to be their author.

The Violone was a six-stringed instrument with frets, and there is evidence to suggest that the Contrabasso of the same period was similar but probably a little larger; the Violoncino(=Little Violone, or Violoncello) must have been smaller. The word 'Violone' was also used as a collective term embracing all members of the Viol family, which means that the sonatas might well have been written for a tenor or abass Viol, and not necessarily a Violone as such. Indeed, when they are played on a Violone, or Double Bass the continuo bass line must be played at a lower pitch than the solo instrument, to prevent inversion of the intendedharmony. (The use of a Violone/Double Bass continuo or 16' organ tone would overcome this problem.)

The editor has added no ornaments or embellishments to the solo part as it appears in the original manuscript. It isopen to debate whether a Violone player, owing to the very nature of his instrument, would have used any but the simplest melodic decorations. Nevertheless, the performer should acquaint himself thoroughly with those seventeenthcentury traditions that

SKU: BA.BA10303-01

ISBN 9790006559503. 33 x 26 cm inches. Key: C minor. Preface: Michael Stegemann.

The third symphony by Camille Saint-Saens, known as the Organ Symphony, is the first publication in a complete historical-critical edition of the French composer's instrumental works.

I gave everything I was able to give in this work. [...] What I have done here I will never be able to do again.Camille Saint-Saens was rightly proud of his third Symphony in C minor Op.78, dedicated to the memory of Franz Liszt. Called theOrgan Symphonybecause of its novel scoring, the work was a commission from the Philharmonic Society in London, as was Beethoven's Ninth, and was premiered there on 19 May 1886. The first performance in Paris followed on 9 January 1887 and confirmed the composer's reputation asprobably the most significant, and certainly the most independent French symphonistof his time, as Ludwig Finscher wrote in MGG. In fact the work remains the only one in the history of that genre in France to the present day, composed a good half century after the Symphonie fantastique by Hector Berlioz and a good half century before Olivier Messiaen's Turangalila Symphonie.

You would think that such a famous, much-performed and much recorded opus could not hold any more secrets, but far from it: in the first historical-critical edition of the Symphony, numerous inconsistencies and mistakes in the Durand edition in general use until now, have been uncovered and corrected. An examination and evaluation of the sources ranged from two early sketches, now preserved in Paris and Washington (in which the Symphony was still in B minor!) via the autograph manuscript and a set of proofs corrected by Saint-Saens himself, to the first and subsequent editions of the full score and parts. The versions for piano duet (by Leon Roques) and for two pianos (by the composer himself) were also consulted. Further crucial information was finally found in his extensive correspondence, encompassing thousands of previously unpublished letters. The discoveries made in producing this edition include the fact that at its London premiere, the Symphony probably looked quite different from its present appearance ...

No less exciting than the work itself is the history of its composition and reception, which are described in an extensive foreword. With his Symphony, Saint-Saens entered right into the dispute which divided French musical life into pro and contra Wagner in the 1880s and 1890s. At the same time, the work succeeded in preserving the balance between tradition and modernism in masterly fashion, as a contemporary critic stated:The C minor Symphony by Saint-Saens creates a bridge from the past into the future, from immortal richness to progress, from ideas to their implementation.

On 19 March 1886 Saint-Saens wrote to the London Philharmonic Society, which commissioned the work:

Work on the symphony is in full swing. But I warn you, it will be terrible. Here is the precise instrumentation: 3 flutes / 2 oboes / 1 cor anglais / 2 clarinets / 1 bass clarinet / 2 bassoons / 1 contrabassoon / 2 natural horns / [3 trumpets / Saint-Saens had forgotten these in his listing.] 2 chromatic horns / 3 trombones / 1 tuba / 3 timpani / organ / 1 piano duet and the strings, of course. Fortunately, there are no harps. Unfortunately it will be difficult. I am doing what I can to mitigate the difficulties.

As in my 4th Concerto [for piano] and my [1st] Violin Sonata [in D minor Op.75] at first glance there appear to be just two parts: the first Allegro and the Adagio, the Scherzo and the Finale, each attacca. This fiendish symphony has crept up by a semitone; it did not want to stay in B minor, and is now in C minor.

It would be a pleasure for me to conduct this symphony. Whether it would be a pleasure for others to hear it? That is the question. It is you who wanted it, I wash my hands of it. I will bring the orchestral parts carefully corrected with me, and if anyone wants to give me a nice rehearsal for the symphony after the full rehearsal, everything will be fine.

When Saint-Saens hit upon the idea of adding an organ and a piano to the usual orchestral scoring is not known. The idea of adding an organ part to a secular orchestral work intended for the concert hall was thoroughly novel - and not without controversy. On the other hand, Franz Liszt, whose music Saint-Saens' Symphony is so close to, had already demonstrated that the organ could easily be an orchestral instrument in his symphonic poem Hunnenschlacht (1856/57). There was also a model for the piano duet part which Saint-Saens knew and may possibly have used quite consciously as an exemplar: theFantaisie sur la Tempetefrom the lyrical monodrama Lelio, ou le retour a la Vie op. 14bis (1831) by Berlioz. The name of the organist at the premiere ist unknown, as, incidentally, was also the case with many of the later performances; the organ part is indeed not soloistic, but should be understood as part of the orchestral texture.

In fact the subsequent success of the symphony seems to have represented a kind of breakthrough for the composer, who was then over 50 years of age.My dear composer of a famous symphony, wrote Saint-Saens' friend and pupil Gabriel Faure:You will never be able to imagine what a pleasure I had last Sunday [at the second performance on 16 January 1887]! And I had the score and did not miss a single note of this Symphony, which will endure much longer than we two, even if we were to join together our two lifespans!

About Barenreiter Urtext

What can I expect from a Barenreiter Urtext edition?< /p>

MUSICOLOGICA LLY SOUND
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- Valuable notes on performance practice
- Includes an introduction with critical commentary explaining source discrepancies and editorial decisions

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