Eb Edition. By Various. Fake Book (Includes melody line and chords). Size 9x12 inches. 816 pages. Published by Hal Leonard.

Bb Edition. Fake Book (Includes melody line and chords). Size 9x12 inches. 816 pages. Published by Hal Leonard.

Fakebook (spiral bound) for voice and C instrument. With vocal melody, lyrics, chord names, leadsheet notation and guitar chord chart. Series: Hal Leonard Fake Books. 813 pages. Published by Hal Leonard.

C Edition. Composed by Various. Fake Book. Broadway, Country, Jazz, Pop, Standards. Softcover. 802 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

(Bass Clef Edition). By Various. By Various. For Bass Clef Instruments. Fake Book. Softcover. 464 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

Fakebook (spiral bound) for voice and C instrument. With vocal melody, lyrics, chord names and leadsheet notation. Series: Hal Leonard Fake Books. 407 pages. Published by Hal Leonard.

Band Bass Clarinet, Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2, Clarinet, Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2, Clarinet 3, Contrabass Clarinet, Contrabassoon, Double Bass, English Horn, Euphonium, Flute 1, Flute 2, Horn 1, Horn 2, Horn 3, Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe 2, Percussion 1 and more.

SKU: PR.16500101F

Mvt. 1 from Symphony No. 6 (Three Places in the East). Composed by Dan Welcher. Full score. 52 pages. Theodore Presser Company #165-00101F. Published by Theodore Presser Company (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.

(B-flat Edition). By Various. By Various. For Bb Instruments. Fake Book. Softcover. 512 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

(C Edition). By Various. By Various. Fake Book. Softcover. 464 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

(E-flat Edition). By Various. By Various. For Eb Instruments. Fake Book. Softcover. 464 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

Band

SKU: PR.16500104F

Three Places in the East. Composed by Dan Welcher. Full score. Theodore Presser Company #165-00104F. Published by Theodore Presser Company (PR.16500104F).

ISBN 9781491132159. UPC: 680160681082.

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.

Over 400 Songs. Fake Book (Includes melody line and chords). Size 9x12 inches. 583 pages. Published by Hal Leonard.

(Low Voice). Composed by Various. For Vocal. Fake Book. 440 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

Band Bass Clarinet, Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2, Clarinet, Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2, Clarinet 3, Contrabass Clarinet, Contrabassoon, Double Bass, English Horn, Euphonium, Flute 1, Flute 2, Horn 1, Horn 2, Horn 3, Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe 2, Percussion 1 and more.

SKU: PR.16500103F

Mvt. 3 from Symphony No. 6 (Three Places in the East). Composed by Dan Welcher. Full score. 60 pages. Theodore Presser Company #165-00103F. Published by Theodore Presser Company (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.

Band Bass Clarinet, Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2, Clarinet, Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2, Clarinet 3, Contrabass Clarinet, Contrabassoon, Double Bass, English Horn, Euphonium, Flute 1, Flute 2, Horn 1, Horn 2, Horn 3, Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe 2, Percussion 1 and more.

SKU: PR.16500102F

Mvt. 2 from Symphony No. 6 (Three Places in the East). Composed by Dan Welcher. Full score. 52 pages. Theodore Presser Company #165-00102F. Published by Theodore Presser Company (PR.16500102F).

ISBN 9781491131749. UPC: 680160680276.

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.

By Various. E-Z Play Today. Softcover. Big note notation. 880 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

(High Voice). By Various. For Vocal. Fake Book. 438 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

Fake Book (Includes melody line and chords). Size 9.75x12 inches. 280 pages. Published by Hal Leonard.

((No Tab)). By Various. For Guitar. Easy Guitar. Softcover. 216 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

Band Bass Clarinet, Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2, Clarinet 3, Contrabass Clarinet, Euphonium, Flute 1, Flute 2, Horn 1, Horn 2, Horn 3, Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe 2, Percussion 1, Percussion 2, Percussion 3, Percussion 4, Percussion 5, Piccolo, String Bass and more.

SKU: PR.165000970

For Band. Composed by Dan Welcher. Folder. Premiered by the University of Texas Symphony Band, Scott S. Hanna, conductor, at Butler School of Music, UT/Austin, Austin, Texas. Contemporary. Set of Score and Parts. With Standard notation. Composed 14-Sep. 40 pages. Duration 7 minutes. Theodore Presser Company #165-00097. Published by Theodore Presser Company (PR.165000970).

ISBN 9781491100462. UPC: 680160626717. 9x12 inches.

Commissione d by a consortium of 20 high school and university bands coordinated by Scott Hanna of the University of Texas at Austin, Downshifting is inspired by Welcher’s joy of bicycle riding. Welcher explains in the program note: When I decided to write a piece for band that was basically entertaining and uplifting, it made perfect sense to call it Downshifting... With three gears on the front sprocket and seven on the rear, it’s possible to keep one’s legs going at a constant speed (for me, q = 126) while the bike itself may be moving very slowly or very quickly. I determined to capitalize on this in writing Downshifting, which keeps the same mathematical inner pulse, ‘shifting’ (with a ratchet) as the terrain changes..
One of the joys of life for me is riding my 21-speed bicycle.  As a basically non-athletic person who nonetheless likes to stay in shape, I have found that riding my bike provides just the exercise I need.  The workout is strenuous, but pleasant—and the infinite variety of scenery I pass keeps me alert and wide awake.  When I decided to write a piece for band that was basically entertaining and uplifting, it made perfect sense to call it Downshifting.With three gears on the front sprocket and seven on the rear, it’s possible to keep ones legs going at a constant speed (for me, that’s 126 to the quarter note) while the bike itself may be moving very slowly or very quickly.  I determined to capitalize on this in writing the music, which manages to keep the same mathematical inner pulse, “shifting” (with a ratchet) as the terrain changes.  So Downshifting begins with that steady pulse, on a grid of eighth notes in 2/4 to propel the little vehicle forward.  There’s a joyous little tune in our heads as we begin our ride.  As the initial thrill of riding on the flat gives way to monotony, we stay in that pulse for the first minute or so of the ride.  Then, as the first hill becomes visible, we shift the bike down: even though the eighths are equal, the pulse feels slower (and we’re now in 6/8 time).  Ultimately the compound meter shifts again as the climb begins, and we’re now plodding doggedly up the hill.  (The music reflects all of these changes, with subtitles such as “Working harder—Seeing the climb, ahead”, “Steady and committed…the climb begins!”, “Straining against the grade”, etc.).There are two hills, and two long climbs (but in different keys, reflecting the change in scenery).  When at last the summit of the second hill is reached (“Flying, Over the Top”), we coast at last down the other side at breakneck speed.  The initial joyous melody returns, but now in a spread-out coasting pulse.  At the end of the ride, we slow to a stop—then take one last sprint (shifting five times in the process) in order to end on a biker’s high.Downshifting was commissioned by a consortium of fourteen high school and college bands, overseen by my longtime colleague at the University of Texas, Scott Hanna.  The piece is dedicated to him (and to all bicycle enthusiasts).

Melodyline, Lyrics and Chords

SKU: HL.14060049

By Adrian Hopkins. Arranged by Matt Cowe. Fake Books. Pop & Rock. General Merchandise. Duration 240 seconds. Music Sales #AM1001121. Published by Music Sales (HL.14060049).

ISBN 9781849386173. UPC: 840126950571. 4.75x7.5x0.579 inches.

Complete Lyrics for 200 Songs. Lyric Library. Size 6x9 inches. 228 pages. Published by Hal Leonard.

Bassoon, Viola, Violin 1, Violin 2, Violoncello

SKU: PR.16400261S

Composed by Dan Welcher. With Standard notation. Duration 15 minutes. Theodore Presser Company #164-00261S. Published by Theodore Presser Company (PR.16400261S).

UPC: 680160038411.

Since the bassoon is my own instrument, many people have asked me why I've written so little for the instrument. Beyond my early Concerto Da Camera for bassoon and small orchestra, written for Leonard Sharrow in 1975, I've not written a single piece that features the bassoon as a solo vehicle (though I have written three woodwind quintets). When I first began composing seriously, critics were quick to point out that my orchestral writing revealed nothing of my roots as a woodwind player--and bassoonists asked why my pieces didn't have more bassoon solos. Perhaps I was so aware that people were looking at me as a bassoonist/composer that I was determined to remove that stigma. Now that my transformation from performer to composer is complete, however, it's time to re-address my instrument. I wanted this new piece to be serious rather than whimsical. The Wind Won't Listen represents my return to the bassoon as the highly expressive, poetic soul that it is.   As such, it shouldn't come as a surprise that the piece is based on a poem, and that the title of the piece as well as both its movement titles come from lines in that poem. I first read Beth Gylys' poem Split at the MacDowell Colony in the summer of 2001, and it made a big impression on me. My personal life had been ruptured by divorce in the preceding year. This poem, with its dry insistence on observation rather than feeling, expressed the wrung-out state of my emotions at the time better than any I had seen. I set it to music, as a song, immediately. In this format, for voice and piano, I was able to put a musical note to every word of the poem. The first lines of the poem, Everyone I know is crying, or should be crying, became a melody that haunted me even without the words.   The work for bassoon and string quartet is an outgrowth of the song. The first movement is labeled Romanza, and has a loose formal arch structure of A-B-C-B-A, with B and C being fast sections framed by the lamenting A music. In addition to hearing the bassoon's first notes attached to the lines Everyone I know is crying, there's a sense of agitation, of loss, of longing, and at times of desperation in the music. At one point, the opening theme from Tristan even appears in the strings.   The second movement follows, without a real pause--the pizzicato final chords of the first movement becoming the increasingly aggressive opening chords of the second. The recitative is actually a foreshadowing of the basic theme that will be varied, again to the words of the song: Life makes itself without us. Don't let me tell you how it is. Go out. Look. The recitative begins in an anguished state, but subsides into more gentle singing by the end, when it simply falls into an ostinato 5/8-3/4 pattern to begin the variations. Marked Very steady tempo; Dancing, this set of variations consists of three dances, each faster than the previous. The first, in the aforementioned 5/8-3/4 meter, gives way to a 3/8 scherzo, which in turn takes on a furious 2/4 scurrying motion. The music becomes breathless, almost pulse-less, and an ethereal theme appears in the violins while the rushing music continues, sotto voce in the bassoon. This new theme is also from the song: Why do I do this? The wind won't listen. The bassoon re-states its Everyone I know is crying melody from the first movement, and at length the 5/8-3/4 music returns, more subdued this time. The piece ends on a major-minor chord, suspended.   The Wind Won't Listen is dedicated to the man who commissioned it, bassoonist Steven Dibner--who shares my passion for poetry and language. --Dan Welcher.

(The Ukulele Decade Series). By Various. For Ukulele. Ukulele. Softcover. 304 pages. Published by Hal Leonard

Chamber Music Organ, Trumpet

SKU: PR.114419810

Composed by Stacy Garrop. Set of Score and Parts. 33+12 pages. Duration 21 minutes. Theodore Presser Company #114-41981. Published by Theodore Presser Company (PR.114419810).

ISBN 9781491136638. UPC: 680160681921.

Stacy Garrop’s ROAD WARRIOR is music of real-life tragedy, expressed through the power of a trumpet/organ duo. Drawing inspiration from Neil Peart’s autobiographical book, “Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road,” Garrop’s work grieves the loss of a friend’s young son and the journey to healing. ROAD WARRIOR’s evocative movement titles are drawn from passages in Peart’s book:1. I Am the Ghost Rider2. My Little Baby Soul3. Are You With Me Here?.
When Clarion members Keith Benjamin (trumpet), Melody Steed (organ), and I initially discussed possible topics for a new piece, Keith brought up his son Cameron, who had passed away at the age of seven from leukemia. While Cameron’s life ended too soon, he left an indelible and lasting mark on his those surrounding him. Keith asked if I could commemorate Cameron musically.In talking over possible ways to do this, Keith mentioned the book Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road. The book was written by Neil Peart, who is well-known as the longtime drummer and lyricist of the band Rush. Peart suffered the heartbreaking loss of his daughter in 1997, followed by his wife 10 months later. In an effort to work through the grieving process, Peart did what his wife suggested before she passed: he got onto his motorcycle and hit the open road. Ghost Rider chronicles a year of Peart’s life in which he drove for 55,000 miles, zigzagging his way across Canada, the western portion of the United States, Mexico, and Belize. Peart’s powerful story illustrates how he coped with immense loss and eventually emerged on the other side to once again embrace life. Keith had found Peart’s book helpful in dealing with Cameron’s death; moreover, Mr. Peart sent Cameron a signed cymbal while he was in the hospital undergoing treatment. This unexpected gesture of compassion and generosity meant the world to both Cameron and Keith.I chose three phrases from Peart’s book to serve as the inspiration for the movements in Road Warrior. In the first movement, I am the ghost rider, I imagined the performers to be howling phantoms that are haunting drivers on a nearly deserted highway. Peart often mentioned that he felt haunted by ghosts from the past while on his journey, and sometimes felt like a ghost himself, moving through an immaterial world as he rode from town to town. The second movement, My little baby soul, references Peart’s wording to define his own inner essence that he was trying to protect and nurture while on his journey. In this gentle movement, I capture the innocence and simplicity of a newborn soul. The piece concludes with Are you with me here? In this movement, I depict the performers as they search to find connections to those they have lost, and to those still living.Over the course of his travels, Peart kept up a steady letter correspondence with his close friend Brutus. In one of his first letters, he repeatedly asks Brutus if he is with him in spirit. I found it to be very poignant that while in his self-imposed exile, Peart discovered that he still needed connections to humanity.I wish to thank Mr. Peart for granting me permission to use his phrases as the movement titles, and for serving as the inspiration for Road Warrior. Rarely do any of us make it through our lives without being touched by the loss of someone dear to us. I found Peart’s insights into his grieving and recovery process to be insightful, eloquent, and surprisingly comforting. His journey is a touching reminder that with enough fortitude and time, we can work through what fate deals us and continue down our own road of life.

Brass Band - Grade 3

SKU: BT.DHP-0991451-030

Composed by Jacob De Haan. Inspiration Series. Original Light Music. Set (Score & Parts). Composed 1999. De Haske Publications #DHP 0991451-030. Published by De Haske Publications (BT.DHP-0991451-030).

Pacific Dreams describes the experience of Miguel, a traveling composer from Spain who, feeling somewhat alienated from his homeland, is wandering through an area of Sydney known as The Rocks. At a small outdoor market in a typical street of this oldcolonial neighbourhood, he discovers a print of William DeShazos painting Pacific Dreams Portrayed in the painting is the surf of one of the exotic islands in the Pacific. Next, with the impressive Sydney Harbour Bridge looming over the narrowstreets of The Rocks, he envisions sultry Pacific beaches. Suddenly a theme he once composed about the lakes in Japan comes to him. Is it the Asian influences present in cosmopolitan Sydney that bring this theme to mind? Or perhaps the waters aroundSydney, over which he could sail to Tahiti? He is uncertain. Could this same theme be used to create a new composition about his feelings for the metropolis Sydney? How then to work his Pacific Dreams into the mix? Miguel is certainly no fan ofHawaiian music. Mayby he could use the vocabularies of islands like Hawaii and Tahiti, their beautiful vowel combinations being sung ad libitum by a mixed choir.With these ideas and his newly purchased print of Pacific Dreams, he boards the Metroat Circular Quay. He has a final glimpse of the harbour and the Sydney Opera House as the train races into the ground. On to the hotel! To work! He must compose!Maestoso : Miguel is impressed as he gazes upon the Sydney Harbour Bridge. And yet, hewants to go away from this city. Away, to an exotic island in the Pacific.Steady Rock : In the Rocks, musicians are playing at a square. Miguel basks in the atmosphere but at the same time he is fantasizing about Hawaii and Tahiti.Andante Lamentoso :In his hotel room, Miguel is feeling sad and lonely in this big city. He takes comfort in his Pacific Dreams.Allegro : Miguel boards the boat that takes him from Darling Harbour to Circular Quay. In his mind he is traveling on to Hawaii. Or is ithome, where the bolero is playing? He is pulled back to reality by the skyline of Sydney.

Wir schlüpfen in die Haut von Miguel und reisen mit ihm nach Australien. Einigermaßen entfremdet von seiner spanischen Heimat schlendert er durch das Viertel The Rocks in Sydney. Auf einem kleinen Markt entdeckt er einen Druck des Gemäldes Pacific Dreams von William DeShazo. Das Bild stellt die Meeresbrandung auf einer exotischen Insel im Pazifik dar. Während die eindrucksvolle Harbour Bridge von Sidney vor ihm auftaucht, ist er in Gedanken bei den heißen Stränden im Stillen Ozean. Auf einmal kommt ihm das Thema in den Sinn, das er einst über die Gewässer Japans komponiert hatte. Liegt es an den asiatischen Einflüssen, die im kosmopolitischen Sydney so vielfältig vertretensind? Oder sind es die Wasser rund um Sydney, über die er nach Tahiti segeln könnte? Er ist sich unsicher. Könnte er genau dieses Thema für eine neue Komposition über die Metropole Sydney verwenden? Wie sollte er seine Träume vom Pazifik, seine Pacific Dreams, in diese Mixtur einbringen? Vielleicht könnte er den Wortschatz von Inseln wie Hawaii und Tahiti für seine Komposition verwenden. Und einen gemischten Chor die schönen Vokalverbindungen ad libitum singen lassen. Mit diesen Ideen im Kopf steigt er in die Metro am Circular Quay. Auf ins Hotel und frisch ans Werk! Jetzt muss er einfach komponieren....