(Words and Chords to Nearly 1200 Songs 9x12 Spiral Bound). Edited by Annie Patte...(+)
(Words and Chords to
Nearly 1200 Songs 9x12
Spiral Bound). Edited by
Annie Patterson and Peter
Blood. For Vocal. Vocal.
Softcover. 304 pages.
Published by Hal Leonard
(Words and Chords to Nearly 1200 Songs Spiral-Bound). Edited by Annie Patterson ...(+)
(Words and Chords to
Nearly 1200 Songs
Spiral-Bound). Edited by
Annie Patterson and Peter
Blood. For Vocal. Vocal.
Softcover. 304 pages.
Published by Hal Leonard
For voice and C instrument. Format: fakebook. With vocal melody, lyrics and chor...(+)
For voice and C
instrument. Format:
fakebook. With vocal
melody, lyrics and chord
names. Folk. Series: Hal
Leonard Fake Books. 536
pages. 9.6x12 inches.
Published by Hal Leonard.
(C Edition) For voice and C instrument. Format: fakebook. With vocal melody, lyr...(+)
(C Edition) For voice and
C instrument. Format:
fakebook. With vocal
melody, lyrics and chord
names. Series: Hal
Leonard Fake Books. 856
pages. 9x12 inches.
Published by Hal Leonard.
For C instrument and voice. Format: fakebook (spiral bound). With chord names, v...(+)
For C instrument and
voice. Format: fakebook
(spiral bound). With
chord names, vocal melody
and lyrics. Jazz. Series:
Hal Leonard Fake Books.
448 pages. 9x12 inches.
Published by Hal Leonard.
For voice and C instrument. Format: fakebook. With vocal melody, lyrics and chor...(+)
For voice and C
instrument. Format:
fakebook. With vocal
melody, lyrics and chord
names. Traditional pop
and vocal standards.
Series: Hal Leonard Fake
Books. 424 pages. 9x12
inches. Published by Hal
Leonard.
Fakebook for Eb instrument and voice. With vocal melody, lyrics and leadsheet no...(+)
Fakebook for Eb
instrument and voice.
With vocal melody, lyrics
and leadsheet notation.
Series: Hal Leonard Fake
Books. 448 pages.
Published by Hal Leonard.
Complete Lyrics for Over 1000 Songs from Broadway to Rock. By Various. Lyric Lib...(+)
Complete Lyrics for Over
1000 Songs from Broadway
to Rock. By Various.
Lyric Library. Softcover.
Size 8.5x11 inches. 373
pages. Published by Hal
Leonard.
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.
Band SKU: PR.16500104F Three Places in the East. Composed by Dan W...(+)
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.
by Stacy Phillips. For fiddle. All styles, fiddle tunes. Level: Multiple Levels....(+)
by Stacy Phillips. For
fiddle. All styles,
fiddle tunes. Level:
Multiple Levels. Book.
Solos. Size 8.75x11.75.
268 pages. Published by
Mel Bay Pub., Inc.
By Robert King. Arranged by John Rutter. For SATB choir with keyboard/unaccompan...(+)
By Robert King. Arranged
by John Rutter. For SATB
choir with
keyboard/unaccompanied/ba
sso continuo. Mixed
Voices. Oxford Choral
Classics Collections.
Sacred, Choral
Collection. Vocal score.
384 pages. Published by
Oxford University Press
SATB (English Language Edition). Composed by Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809). Edi...(+)
SATB (English Language
Edition). Composed by
Franz Joseph Haydn
(1732-1809). Edited by
Robert Shaw and Alice
Parker. Choral (Sacred);
Choral Worship Cantata;
Larger Works;
Masterworks; Performance
Music Ensemble; Worship
Resources. Lawson-Gould.
Classical; Masterwork;
Sacred. Book. 160 pages.
Alfred Music #00-LG51595.
Published by Alfred Music
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.
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.
Choral SATB choir, piano SKU: CF.CM9608 Composed by Jamey Ray. Fold. Perf...(+)
Choral SATB choir, piano
SKU: CF.CM9608
Composed by Jamey Ray.
Fold. Performance. 12
pages. Duration 3
minutes, 33 seconds. Carl
Fischer Music #CM9608.
Published by Carl Fischer
Music (CF.CM9608).
ISBN 9781491154304.
UPC: 680160912803. 6.875
x 10.5 inches. Key: E
major. English. Alfred,
Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892).
The
beauty in Alfred, Lord
Tennysons poem is
reflected by the music
with the use of text
painting. The piano
creates the sound of
moving water in m. 19,
providing the first
instance of text
painting. When the men
enter, they continue this
idea of the ocean tide
while the descent into
the word deep in m. 27
gives another instance of
text painting. Take
advantage of the minor
second suspension on the
word dark in m. 38 in
order to achieve a
feeling of suspense. The
entrance at m. 41 is
full, and while still
minor, the text gives us
hope for a change. The
change comes in m. 45
with the staggered
entrances creating a
sense of building and
ascent until the climax
of this moment at m. 47
on the word embark, which
is to be an ascent to
Heaven. The melody moves
between voice parts, even
as early as m. 14 where
the altos have the melody
for only a single
measure; it is then
handed back to the
sopranos. From mm. 5764,
the altos trade the
melody back and forth
with the sopranos. Take
note that the alto melody
should be brought out,
but the line does not
actually begin until the
word when. Lastly, be
intentional with syllabic
stress (no two eighth
notes or quarter notes
alike) and to give
direction to any note
longer than a quarter. I
hope you enjoy learning
and performing
Crossing the Bar
as much as I enjoyed
writing it. ~Jamey
Ray. The beauty in
Alfred, Lord Tennysonas
poem is reflected by the
music with the use of
text painting. The piano
creates the sound of
moving water in m.A 19,
providing the first
instance of text
painting. When the men
enter, they continue this
idea of the ocean tide
while the descent into
the word adeepa in m. 27
gives another instance of
text painting. Take
advantage of the minor
second suspension on the
word adarka in m. 38 in
order to achieve a
feeling of suspense. The
entrance at m. 41 is
full, and while still
minor, the text gives us
hope for a change. The
change comes in m. 45
with the staggered
entrances creating a
sense of building and
ascent until the climax
of this moment at m. 47
on the word aembark,a
which is to be an ascent
to Heaven. The melody
moves between voice
parts, even as early as
m. 14 where the altos
have the melody for only
a single measure; it is
then handed back to the
sopranos. From mm. 57a64,
the altos trade the
melody back and forth
with the sopranos. Take
note that the alto melody
should be brought out,
but the line does not
actually begin until the
word awhen.a Lastly, be
intentional with syllabic
stress (no two eighth
notes or quarter notes
alike) and to give
direction to any note
longer than a quarter. I
hope you enjoy learning
and performing
Crossing the Bar
as much as I enjoyed
writing it. ~Jamey
Ray. The beauty in
Alfred, Lord Tennyson's
poem is reflected by the
music with the use of
text painting. The piano
creates the sound of
moving water in m. 19,
providing the first
instance of text
painting. When the men
enter, they continue this
idea of the ocean tide
while the descent into
the word deep in m. 27
gives another instance of
text painting. Take
advantage of the minor
second suspension on the
word dark in m. 38 in
order to achieve a
feeling of suspense. The
entrance at m. 41 is
full, and while still
minor, the text gives us
hope for a change. The
change comes in m. 45
with the staggered
entrances creating a
sense of building and
ascent until the climax
of this moment at m. 47
on the word embark, which
is to be an ascent to
Heaven. The melody moves
between voice parts, even
as early as m. 14 where
the altos have the melody
for only a single
measure; it is then
handed back to the
sopranos. From mm. 57-64,
the altos trade the
melody back and forth
with the sopranos. Take
note that the alto melody
should be brought out,
but the line does not
actually begin until the
word when. Lastly, be
intentional with syllabic
stress (no two eighth
notes or quarter notes
alike) and to give
direction to any note
longer than a quarter. I
hope you enjoy learning
and performing
Crossing the Bar
as much as I enjoyed
writing it. ~Jamey
Ray. The beauty in
Alfred, Lord Tennyson's
poem is reflected by the
music with the use of
text painting. The piano
creates the sound of
moving water in m. 19,
providing the first
instance of text
painting. When the men
enter, they continue this
idea of the ocean tide
while the descent into
the word deep in m. 27
gives another instance of
text painting. Take
advantage of the minor
second suspension on the
word dark in m. 38 in
order to achieve a
feeling of suspense. The
entrance at m. 41 is
full, and while still
minor, the text gives us
hope for a change. The
change comes in m. 45
with the staggered
entrances creating a
sense of building and
ascent until the climax
of this moment at m. 47
on the word embark, which
is to be an ascent to
Heaven. The melody moves
between voice parts, even
as early as m. 14 where
the altos have the melody
for only a single
measure; it is then
handed back to the
sopranos. From mm. 57-64,
the altos trade the
melody back and forth
with the sopranos. Take
note that the alto melody
should be brought out,
but the line does not
actually begin until the
word when. Lastly, be
intentional with syllabic
stress (no two eighth
notes or quarter notes
alike) and to give
direction to any note
longer than a quarter. I
hope you enjoy learning
and performing Crossing
the Bar as much as I
enjoyed writing it.
~Jamey Ray. The beauty
in Alfred, Lord
Tennyson’s poem is
reflected by the music
with the use of text
painting. The piano
creates the sound of
moving water in m.Â
19, providing the first
instance of text
painting. When the men
enter, they continue this
idea of the ocean tide
while the descent into
the word
“deep†in m.
27 gives another instance
of text painting.Take
advantage of the minor
second suspension on the
word “darkâ€
in m. 38 in order to
achieve a feeling of
suspense. The entrance at
m. 41 is full, and while
still minor, the text
gives us hope for a
change. The change comes
in m. 45 with the
staggered entrances
creating a sense of
building and ascent until
the climax of this moment
at m. 47 on the word
“embark,â€
which is to be an ascent
to Heaven.The melody
moves between voice
parts, even as early as
m. 14 where the altos
have the melody for only
a single measure; it is
then handed back to the
sopranos. From mm.
57–64, the altos
trade the melody back and
forth with the sopranos.
Take note that the alto
melody should be brought
out, but the line does
not actually begin until
the word
“when.â€Lastly
, be intentional with
syllabic stress (no two
eighth notes or quarter
notes alike) and to give
direction to any note
longer than a quarter.I
hope you enjoy learning
and performing Crossing
the Bar as much as I
enjoyed writing it.~Jamey
Ray.
Choral SATB choir, piano SKU: CF.CM9713 Composed by Jacob Narverud. 16 pa...(+)
Choral SATB choir, piano
SKU: CF.CM9713
Composed by Jacob
Narverud. 16 pages.
Duration 4:01. Carl
Fischer Music #CM9713.
Published by Carl Fischer
Music (CF.CM9713).
ISBN 9781491160084.
UPC: 680160918683. Key: G
major. English. Robert
Bode. Original.
The
piece was commissioned by
Kevin Scully, Director of
Creative Arts, for the
Port Washington School
District, New York, with
special thanks to the Ed
Foundation and HEARTS for
their unwavering support.
Performance Notes This
lighthearted piece is a
great way to bring
multiple choirs together
in harmony. It may be
sung by a single SATB
choir, though it is
intended to be performed
by multiple choirs of
varying age levels. Song
of the Sound was written
for an all-district
feeder festival piece for
combined elementary,
middle level, and high
school choirs. Here is a
suggested outline for
combining multiple
choirs: Rehearsal Letters
A to B: Elementary choir
only (two-part, Soprano,
Alto) Rehearsal Letter B:
add Middle Level Soprano,
Alto with Elementary
choir Rehearsal Letter C:
Middle Level choir only
Rehearsal Letter D: High
School choir only
Rehearsal Letter E to the
end: Everyone! Song of
the Sound: Running on the
beach, digging in the
sand, Seaweed in my toes,
bucket in my hand. When
I'm at the shore, way
above the rest, These are
all the things that I
love the best. Skipping
like a stone on the
water, diving deep in the
silvery foam, Swimming
far where the land cannot
hold us, where the
lighthouse calls us home.
Flying free above the
marshes, soaring high
above the sea, Where the
tern and cormorant and
plover call to lands we
cannot see.Come let us go
to the water, let us go
to the singing shore:
Where the gentle breezes
whisper and the mighty
breakers roar. We will
look to the shining
ocean, to the East, where
the new day dawned: We
will sing a song of the
edge of the world and the
waiting sky beyond. -Poem
by Robert Bode (Hope
Springs Retreat Center,
Ohio. August 2019) About
the Composer: Jacob
Narverud (b. 1986) is an
American composer,
arranger, and conductor.
Dr. Narverud is an active
guest Conductor/Clinician
for Choral Festivals and
All-State Choirs across
the country and is the
Founder/Artistic Director
of the Tallgrass Chamber
Choir, a professional
ensemble comprised of
musicians from across the
Great Plains. As a
sought-after composer,
Narverud has been
commissioned to write new
works for a variety of
choral ensembles and
organizations. Many of
his Editors' Choirs
compositions are
publisher Best Sellers
and are performed
worldwide by choirs of
all levels. Website:
www.jnarverud.com YouTube
& Spotify:
@jacobnarverud. The
piece was commissioned by
Kevin Scully, Director of
Creative Arts, for the
Port Washington School
District, New York, with
special thanks to the Ed
Foundation and HEARTS for
their unwavering
support.Performance
NotesThis lighthearted
piece is a great way to
bring multiple choirs
together in harmony. It
may be sung by a single
SATB choir, though it is
intended to be performed
by multiple choirs of
varying age levels. Song
of the Sound was written
for an all-district
feeder festival piece for
combined elementary,
middle level, and high
school choirs. Here is a
suggested outline for
combining multiple
choirs:Rehearsal Letters
AÂ to B: Elementary
choir only (two-part,
Soprano, Alto)Rehearsal
Letter B: add Middle
Level Soprano, Alto with
Elementary choirRehearsal
Letter C: Middle
Level choir onlyRehearsal
Letter D: High School
choir onlyRehearsal
Letter E to the end:
Everyone!Song of the
Sound:Running on the
beach, digging in the
sand,Seaweed in my toes,
bucket in my hand.When
I'm at the shore, way
above the rest,These are
all the things that I
love the
best. Skipping like a
stone on the water,
diving deep in the
silvery foam,Swimming far
where the land cannot
hold us, where the
lighthouse calls us
home.Flying free above
the marshes, soaring high
above the sea,Where the
tern and cormorant and
plover call to lands we
cannot see.Come let us go
to the water, let us go
to the singing
shore:Where the gentle
breezes whisper and the
mighty breakers roar.We
will look to the shining
ocean, to the East, where
the new day dawned:We
will sing a song of the
edge of the world and the
waiting sky beyond.-Poem
by Robert Bode (Hope
Springs Retreat Center,
Ohio. August 2019)About
the Composer:Jacob
Narverud (b. 1986) is an
American composer,
arranger, and conductor.
Dr. Narverud is an active
guest Conductor/Clinician
for Choral Festivals and
All-State Choirs across
the country and is the
Founder/Artistic Director
of the Tallgrass Chamber
Choir, a professional
ensemble comprised of
musicians from across the
Great Plains. As a
sought-after composer,
Narverud has been
commissioned to write new
works for a variety of
choral ensembles and
organizations. Many of
his Editors' Choirs
compositions are
publisher Best Sellers
and are performed
worldwide by choirs of
all levels. Website:
www.jnarverud.comÂ
YouTube & Spotify:
@jacobnarverud.