SKU: 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.

SKU: 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.

SKU: PR.16500103F

ISBN 9781491131763. UPC: 680160680290.

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

SKU: PR.16500101F

ISBN 9781491131725. UPC: 680160680252.

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

SKU: CF.YAS186

ISBN 9781491151518. UPC: 680160909018. 9 x 12 inches. Key: D minor.

A stunning and heart-wrenching composition based on the Jewish folk son Shlof, Mayn Kind. You can hear the emotional content pour out of this piece written in memory of an outstanding orchestra director. The piece beginnings with original material to set the tone, followed by a violin solo on the song. It them develops through a variety of different harmonic presentation before building to a nice key change and climatic moment. The piece ends as it began, but with a more hopeful tone. An amazing piece.
Sleep, My Child was commissioned by the Madison Middle School Band and Orchestra in Tampa, Florida, and is dedicated to the memory of their Director of Orchestras Kevin Frye. Director of Bands Chris Shultz championed the commissioning of this piece to honor Kevin after he passed away in December 2016. Mr. Frye was a beloved member of the staff at Madison Middle as well as the music community of Tampa and the state of Florida. I was a personal friend of Kevin’s. We were in several musical groups together when we were young that were formative to both of our musical careers. I also guest-conducted his Madison Middle School Orchestra several times over the past four years. His musicianship, teaching skills and love for his students were exemplary.When taking on the challenge of writing a piece to honor Kevin’s legacy, Mr. Shultz and I decided to try and include several important aspects of Kevin’s life into the piece. Kevin was proudly Jewish, a fantastic trumpet player and loved Jazz. With that in mind, and after a lot of research, a Jewish folk song Shlof, Mayn Kind was selected as the basis for the piece, not to be religious, but to honor his faith and heritage. Plus it is a beautiful song and I felt the title reflected the sentiment I was looking to express, which is of someone taking rest after a long battle with illness, so a lullaby seemed appropriate.I also wanted to incorporate Jazz into the piece, but in a concert setting, so you will hear as the piece develops, the harmonies of the folk song expand into ones found more commonly in Jazz compositions.  Not in a far out way, but in a subtle way to again honor this part of his life. For example the climactic moment of the piece at the fermata in m. 57 is a Dbmaj9#11 chord. It appropriately give the piece the angst that I was looking for at this moment in the piece, while honoring the importance of Jazz in Kevin’s musical life.The piece was also conceived to include both the Madison band and orchestra in the performance at the premiere. I wanted the pieces to work separately by the band and separately by the orchestra, but I also wanted them to be able to play the piece together to honor Kevin.The piece begins with original material designed to set the mood of the piece with a tempo/style marking of pensive, but also as material that I used as connective musical tissue between statements of the folk song.  After this introduction, the folk song is presented by a solo violin (or clarinet) with orchestral accompaniment in a simple straight forward presentation of the song. This is followed by a woodwind section statement of the folk song accompanied by muted trumpets. During this presentation the harmony starts to expand with more color notes in the chords. The low brass are added half way through this statement to add depth and lushness.The introductory material returns, but with some angry hits in the lower voices. This leads to a full ensemble state of new material that is used to transition to the climax of the piece, and to build tension. After the build, the piece modulates to a shortened statement of the folk song with more advanced harmonies and an active counter line in the violas, horns, saxes and first clarinets to further build the tension.  This tension is released at the fermata in m. 57 as mentioned above. After a thoughtful pause, the piece concludes with a completion of the folk song again with a solo violin (or clarinet) followed by a return of the introductory material to tie the piece together. The piece ends hopeful, with a solo trumpet (Kevin’s instrument) that is dissonant at first, but then resolves as if to say, Everything will be OK! It has been my distinct honor to have been asked to write this piece in Kevin’s memory! I hope that in some small way the piece helps to bring comfort to his family, students, colleagues and to all those that knew him!–Larry ClarkLakeland, FL  2017.

About Carl Fischer Young String Orchestra Series

Thi s series of Grade 2/Grade 2.5 pieces is designed for second and third year ensembles. The pieces in this series are characterized by:
--Occasionally extending to third position
--Keys carefully considered for appropriate difficulty
--Addition of separate 2nd violin and viola parts
--Viola T.C. part included
--Increase in independence of parts over beginning levels

SKU: CF.YAS186F

ISBN 9781491151884. UPC: 680160909384. 9 x 12 inches.

A stunning and heart-wrenching composition based on the Jewish folk son Shlof, Mayn Kind. You can hear the emotional content pour out of this piece written in memory of an outstanding orchestra director. The piece beginnings with original material to set the tone, followed by a violin solo on the song. It them develops through a variety of different harmonic presentation before building to a nice key change and climatic moment. The piece ends as it began, but with a more hopeful tone. An amazing piece.
Sleep, My Child was commissioned by the Madison Middle School Band and Orchestra in Tampa, Florida, and is dedicated to the memory of their Director of Orchestras Kevin Frye. Director of Bands Chris Shultz championed the commissioning of this piece to honor Kevin after he passed away in December 2016. Mr. Frye was a beloved member of the staff at Madison Middle as well as the music community of Tampa and the state of Florida. I was a personal friend of Kevin’s. We were in several musical groups together when we were young that were formative to both of our musical careers. I also guest-conducted his Madison Middle School Orchestra several times over the past four years. His musicianship, teaching skills and love for his students were exemplary.When taking on the challenge of writing a piece to honor Kevin’s legacy, Mr. Shultz and I decided to try and include several important aspects of Kevin’s life into the piece. Kevin was proudly Jewish, a fantastic trumpet player and loved Jazz. With that in mind, and after a lot of research, a Jewish folk song Shlof, Mayn Kind was selected as the basis for the piece, not to be religious, but to honor his faith and heritage. Plus it is a beautiful song and I felt the title reflected the sentiment I was looking to express, which is of someone taking rest after a long battle with illness, so a lullaby seemed appropriate.I also wanted to incorporate Jazz into the piece, but in a concert setting, so you will hear as the piece develops, the harmonies of the folk song expand into ones found more commonly in Jazz compositions.  Not in a far out way, but in a subtle way to again honor this part of his life. For example the climactic moment of the piece at the fermata in m. 57 is a Dbmaj9#11 chord. It appropriately give the piece the angst that I was looking for at this moment in the piece, while honoring the importance of Jazz in Kevin’s musical life.The piece was also conceived to include both the Madison band and orchestra in the performance at the premiere. I wanted the pieces to work separately by the band and separately by the orchestra, but I also wanted them to be able to play the piece together to honor Kevin.The piece begins with original material designed to set the mood of the piece with a tempo/style marking of pensive, but also as material that I used as connective musical tissue between statements of the folk song.  After this introduction, the folk song is presented by a solo violin (or clarinet) with orchestral accompaniment in a simple straight forward presentation of the song. This is followed by a woodwind section statement of the folk song accompanied by muted trumpets. During this presentation the harmony starts to expand with more color notes in the chords. The low brass are added half way through this statement to add depth and lushness.The introductory material returns, but with some angry hits in the lower voices. This leads to a full ensemble state of new material that is used to transition to the climax of the piece, and to build tension. After the build, the piece modulates to a shortened statement of the folk song with more advanced harmonies and an active counter line in the violas, horns, saxes and first clarinets to further build the tension.  This tension is released at the fermata in m. 57 as mentioned above. After a thoughtful pause, the piece concludes with a completion of the folk song again with a solo violin (or clarinet) followed by a return of the introductory material to tie the piece together. The piece ends hopeful, with a solo trumpet (Kevin’s instrument) that is dissonant at first, but then resolves as if to say, Everything will be OK! It has been my distinct honor to have been asked to write this piece in Kevin’s memory! I hope that in some small way the piece helps to bring comfort to his family, students, colleagues and to all those that knew him!–Larry ClarkLakeland, FL  2017.

About Carl Fischer Young String Orchestra Series

Thi s series of Grade 2/Grade 2.5 pieces is designed for second and third year ensembles. The pieces in this series are characterized by:
--Occasionally extending to third position
--Keys carefully considered for appropriate difficulty
--Addition of separate 2nd violin and viola parts
--Viola T.C. part included
--Increase in independence of parts over beginning levels

SKU: MB.31060M

ISBN 9781513468051. 8.75x11.75 inches.

As aspiring fingerpicking guitarists started expanding their horizons from folk, blues, and ragtime in the 1970s, it was only logical to look towards early jazz tunes as a vast source for new possibilities. For one thing, they could follow the same evolutionary path from ragtime to jazz that had been taken by pianists such as Jelly Roll Morton and Harlem stride players like James P. Johnson and Fats Waller. These musicians all composed in a variety of styles, but their most ambitious piano solos expanded on the classic ragtime format developed by the likes of Scott Joplin, James Scott, and Joseph Lamb, using several strains that usually changed keys at least once. Morton, the self-proclaimed inventor of jazz, would record versions of tunes like King Porter Stomp and The Original Jelly Roll Blues that are similar to straight ragtime performances, and others where there is lots of room left for embellishment and jazz improvisation.

The present collection is a bonanza for guitarists who want to tackle advanced arrangements along the lines of ragtime but featuring jazz age harmonies from the playing of Jelly Roll Morton, Louis Armstrong, Bix Beiderbecke, WC Handy, the Original Dixieland Jazz Band and other early jazz legends. The 32 arrangements included are by a wide assortment of guitarists including Ernie Hawkins, Pat Donohue, Lasse Johansson, Duck Baker, Ton Van Bergeyk, Sandy Shalk, Steve McWilliam, and Dorian Henry.

Titles include: Oh, You Beautiful Doll, I’ve Got The Blues, High Society, St. Louis Blues, Davenport Blues, Poor Butterfly, Dixie Jass Band One-Step, Memphis Blues, Big Foot Ham, Grandpa’s Spells, The Original Jelly Roll Blues, Midnight Mama, Milenberg Joys, Fizz Water, Back Home in Indiana, Sweet Georgia Brown, Red Wing (An Indian Intermezzo), There’ll Be Some Changes Made, Way Down Yonder In New Orleans, Charleston, Where The Morning Glories Grow, Limehouse Blues, Susie (of the Islands), I Need Some Pettin’, Weather Bird, Cornet Chop Suey, Kansas City Stomps, King Porter Stomp, Jubilee Stomp, Take It Easy, If I Had You, Moonlight Serenade

SKU: CF.CAS113

ISBN 9781491151327. UPC: 680160908820. 9 x 12 inches. Key: E minor.

Composed by Bruce W. Tippette, Drifting?utilizes musical passages to allude to the image of something drifting down a river in the woods. It journeys through twists and turns, placid streams and roaring rapids, eventually making a grand entrance into open waters.
The musical passages in this piece for string orchestra conjure images of something, perhaps a leaf, gently drifting down a river in the woods. It journeys through twists and turns, placid streams and roaring rapids, eventually making a grand entrance into open waters. As Drifting< /em> opens, soft pizzicato strings are uttered in the lower string voices, while the upper voices slowly swell into the appearance of the main motive in m. 9. This theme develops and passes through several voices until being replaced by a new motive in m. 36, accompanied by driving rhythms and frequent modulations. A powerful resurgence of the original motive occurs in m. 60. Melodic remnants of the previous sections are presented in a new fashion as the piece comes to a dramatic close with all voices playing in rhythmic unison in the closing measures..
The musical passages in this piece for string orchestra conjure images of something, perhaps a leaf, gently drifting down a river in the woods. It journeys through twists and turns, placid streams and roaring rapids, eventually making a grand entrance into open waters. As Drifting< /em> opens, soft pizzicato strings are uttered in the lower string voices, while the upper voices slowly swell into the appearance of the main motive in m. 9. This theme develops and passes through several voices until being replaced by a new motive in m. 36, accompanied by driving rhythms and frequent modulations. A powerful resurgence of the original motive occurs in m. 60. Melodic remnants of the previous sections are presented in a new fashion as the piece comes to a dramatic close with all voices playing in rhythmic unison in the closing measures..
The musical passages in this piece for string orchestra conjure images of something, perhaps a leaf, gently drifting down a river in the woods. It journeys through twists and turns, placid streams and roaring rapids, eventually making a grand entrance into open waters. As Drifting opens, soft pizzicato strings are uttered in the lower string voices, while the upper voices slowly swell into the appearance of the main motive in m. 9. This theme develops and passes through several voices until being replaced by a new motive in m. 36, accompanied by driving rhythms and frequent modulations. A powerful resurgence of the original motive occurs in m. 60. Melodic remnants of the previous sections are presented in a new fashion as the piece comes to a dramatic close with all voices playing in rhythmic unison in the closing measures.

SKU: CF.YAS13F

ISBN 9780825848339. UPC: 798408048334. 8.5 X 11 inches. Key: G major.

IApart from some of his Sonatinas, Opus 36, Clementi's life and music are hardly known to the piano teachers and students of today. For example, in addition to the above mentioned Sonatinas, Clementi wrote sixty sonatas for the piano, many of them unjustly neglected, although his friend Beethoven regarded some of them very highly. Clementi also wrote symphonies (some of which he arranged as piano sonatas), a substantial number of waltzes and other dances for the piano as well as sonatas and sonatinas for piano four-hands.In addition to composing, Clementi was a much sought after piano teacher, and included among his students John Field (Father of the 'Nocturne'), and Meyerbeer.In his later years, Clementi became a very successful music publisher, publishing among other works the first English edition of Beethoven's Violin Concerto, in the great composer's own arrangement for the piano, as well as some of his string quartets. Clementi was also one of the first English piano manufacturers to make pianos with a metal frame and string them with wire.The Sonatina in C, Opus 36, No. 1 was one of six such works Clementi wrote in 1797. He must have been partial to these little pieces (for which he also provided the fingerings), since they were reissued (without the fingering) by the composer shortly after 1801. About 1820, he issued ''the sixth edition, with considerable improvements by the author;· with fingerings added and several minor changes, among which were that many of them were written an octave higher.IIIt has often been said, generally by those unhampered by the facts, that composers of the past (and, dare we add, the present?), usually handled their financial affairs with their public and publishers with a poor sense of business acumen or common sense. As a result they frequently found themselves in financial straits.Contrary to popular opinion, this was the exception rather than the rule. With the exception of Mozart and perhaps a few other composers, the majority of composers then, as now, were quite successful in their dealings with the public and their publishers, as the following examples will show.It was not unusual for 18th- and 19th-century composers to arrange some of their more popular compositions for different combinations of instruments in order to increase their availability to a larger music-playing public. Telemann, in the introduction to his seventy-two cantatas for solo voice and one melody instrument (flute, oboe or violin, with the usual continua) Der Harmonische Gottesdienst, tor example, suggests that if a singer is not available to perform a cantata the voice part could be played by another instrument. And in the introduction to his Six Concertos and Six Suites for flute, violin and continua, he named four different instrumental combinations that could perform these pieces, and actually wrote out the notes for the different possibilities. Bach arranged his violin concertos for keyboard, and Beethoven not only arranged his Piano Sonata in E Major, Opus 14, No. 1 for string quartet, he also transposed it to the key of F. Brahm's well-known Quintet in F Minor for piano and strings was his own arrangement of his earlier sonata for two pianos, also in F Minor.IIIWe come now to Clementi. It is well known that some of his sixty piano sonatas were his own arrangements of some of his lost symphonies, and that some of his rondos for piano four-hands were originally the last movements of his solo sonatas or piano trios.In order to make the first movement of his delightful Sonatina in C, Opus 36, No. 1 accessible to young string players, I have followed the example established by the composer himself by arranging and transposing one of his piano compositions from one medium (the piano) to another. (string instruments). In order to simplify the work for young string players, in the process of adapting it to the new medium it was necessary to transpose it from the original key of C to G, thereby doing away with some of the difficulties they would have encountered in the original key. The first violin and cello parts are similar to the right- and left-hand parts of the original piano version. The few changes I have made in these parts have been for the convenience of the string players, but in no way do they change the nature of the music.Since the original implied a harmonic framework in many places, I have added a second violin and viola part in such a way that they not only have interesting music to play, but also fill in some of the implied harmony without in any way detracting from the composition's musical value. Occasionally, it has been necessary to raise or lower a few passages an octave or to modify others slightly to make them more accessible for young players.It is hoped that the musical value of the composition has not been too compromised, and that students and teachers will come to enjoy this little piece in its new setting as much as pianists have in the original one. This arrangement may also be performed by a solo string quartet. When performed by a string orchestra, the double bass part may be omitted.- Douglas TownsendString editing by Amy Rosen.

About Carl Fischer Young String Orchestra Series

Thi s series of Grade 2/Grade 2.5 pieces is designed for second and third year ensembles. The pieces in this series are characterized by:
--Occasionally extending to third position
--Keys carefully considered for appropriate difficulty
--Addition of separate 2nd violin and viola parts
--Viola T.C. part included
--Increase in independence of parts over beginning levels

SKU: CF.CAS113F

ISBN 9781491151693. UPC: 680160909193. 9 x 12 inches.

Composed by Bruce W. Tippette, Drifting?utilizes musical passages to allude to the image of something drifting down a river in the woods. It journeys through twists and turns, placid streams and roaring rapids, eventually making a grand entrance into open waters.
The musical passages in this piece for string orchestra conjure images of something, perhaps a leaf, gently drifting down a river in the woods. It journeys through twists and turns, placid streams and roaring rapids, eventually making a grand entrance into open waters. As Drifting< /em> opens, soft pizzicato strings are uttered in the lower string voices, while the upper voices slowly swell into the appearance of the main motive in m. 9. This theme develops and passes through several voices until being replaced by a new motive in m. 36, accompanied by driving rhythms and frequent modulations. A powerful resurgence of the original motive occurs in m. 60. Melodic remnants of the previous sections are presented in a new fashion as the piece comes to a dramatic close with all voices playing in rhythmic unison in the closing measures..
The musical passages in this piece for string orchestra conjure images of something, perhaps a leaf, gently drifting down a river in the woods. It journeys through twists and turns, placid streams and roaring rapids, eventually making a grand entrance into open waters. As Drifting< /em> opens, soft pizzicato strings are uttered in the lower string voices, while the upper voices slowly swell into the appearance of the main motive in m. 9. This theme develops and passes through several voices until being replaced by a new motive in m. 36, accompanied by driving rhythms and frequent modulations. A powerful resurgence of the original motive occurs in m. 60. Melodic remnants of the previous sections are presented in a new fashion as the piece comes to a dramatic close with all voices playing in rhythmic unison in the closing measures..
The musical passages in this piece for string orchestra conjure images of something, perhaps a leaf, gently drifting down a river in the woods. It journeys through twists and turns, placid streams and roaring rapids, eventually making a grand entrance into open waters. As Drifting opens, soft pizzicato strings are uttered in the lower string voices, while the upper voices slowly swell into the appearance of the main motive in m. 9. This theme develops and passes through several voices until being replaced by a new motive in m. 36, accompanied by driving rhythms and frequent modulations. A powerful resurgence of the original motive occurs in m. 60. Melodic remnants of the previous sections are presented in a new fashion as the piece comes to a dramatic close with all voices playing in rhythmic unison in the closing measures.