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. 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.
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.
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.
(Easy Piano). Arranged by Dan Coates. For Piano. This edition: Easy Piano. B...(+)
(Easy Piano). Arranged by
Dan
Coates. For Piano. This
edition: Easy Piano.
Book;
Piano - Easy Piano
Collection.
The Giant Book of Sheet
Music.
Jazz. Easy Piano. 252
pages.
Published by Alfred Music
Piano, Voix et Guitare [Partition] - Intermédiaire Warner Brothers
Performed by Ray Charles. For voice, piano and guitar chords. Format: piano/voca...(+)
Performed by Ray Charles.
For voice, piano and
guitar chords. Format:
piano/vocal/chords
songbook. With vocal
melody, piano
accompaniment, lyrics,
chord names, guitar chord
diagrams, introductory
text and black and white
photos. Randb, rock and
standards. Series:
Legendary Performers,
Volume 5. 84 pages. 9x12
inches. Published by
Warner Brothers.
Chamber Music Flute, Piccolo, alto Flute SKU: PR.164002480 Composed by Da...(+)
Chamber Music Flute,
Piccolo, alto Flute
SKU: PR.164002480
Composed by Dan Welcher.
Set of performance
scores. With Standard
notation. 23 pages.
Duration 14 minutes.
Theodore Presser Company
#164-00248. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(PR.164002480).
UPC:
680160038237.
This
work is my second for a
solo woodwind and a solo
percussionist, following
Firewing: The Flame and
the Moth for oboe and
percussion by nine years.
The earlier piece
followed a specific story
line, and pitted the oboe
against the percussionist
as both adversary and
lover. In Spirit Realms,
my aim was not only to
juxtapose the very
different sounds of flute
(plus alto flute and
piccolo) against a large
array of percussion, but
also to attempt three
different meditative
spaces, each named for a
different type of
spiritual practice. The
musical means of
expression is very
different for each of the
three movements (as is
the instrumentation),
although they share a
common scale-source: the
looped pentatonic scale I
have been developing over
the last several years.
The first movement
is called Prayer Tunnel,
and is named for the
Eskimo practice of solo
meditation within a
tunnel of ice blocks.
This is said to be a
means of overcoming
demons within, and in my
musical rendering it
takes the form of an
unaccompanied alto flute
solo. The flute begins
rather angrily, full of
tension, but in the
course of the solo
passage manages to slowly
unwind. The percussionist
then plays the exact same
music the alto flute had
played....on seven tuned
cymbals. Toward the end,
the alto flute re-enters,
its original meditation
having fused with its
mirror. Kiva
represents the circular,
subterranean pit in which
the Anasazi practiced
their religion, a form of
which still can be found
in the Hopi tribes of the
American southwest. These
are not spaces for solo
meditation, but rather a
group meeting place in
which only the sanctified
are permitted. After an
introductory invocation
(dove call), the music
begins. At first, it is
flowing, in a repetitive
double-five meter. It
then traces several
sections, with metric
shifts forcing the pulse
to race faster and
faster, until it halves
itself in the coda and
returns to the exact
pulse of the beginning.
The flutist here uses the
C flute, and the
percussionist plays on
both pitched (marimba)
and unpitched instruments
(various drums and struck
sources). Zendo is
the meditation room used
by Zen Buddhists. My
music begins with another
invocation (wind chimes,
temple cup gongs, and
temple blocks), then
moves on to a slow
subject stated by the
flute. The subject is
taken up by the
vibraphone, and after
several modulations and
tempo changes, the
flutist takes up the
piccolo. The music
continues higher and
higher, and faster and
faster (Zen meditation is
NOT all about becoming
lost!) until it breaks
free at the very end. The
percussionist is put
through his paces in this
movement, having to reach
a staggering number of
instruments in a short
time. Spirit
Realms was commissioned
by, and is dedicated to,
the Armstrong Duo. -- Dan
Welcher.
Flute, Percussion SKU: PR.16400248S Composed by Dan Welcher. With Standar...(+)
Flute, Percussion
SKU:
PR.16400248S
Composed
by Dan Welcher. With
Standard notation.
Duration 14 minutes.
Theodore Presser Company
#164-00248S. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(PR.16400248S).
UPC:
680160038244.
This
work is my second for a
solo woodwind and a solo
percussionist, following
Firewing: The Flame and
the Moth for oboe and
percussion by nine years.
The earlier piece
followed a specific story
line, and pitted the oboe
against the percussionist
as both adversary and
lover. In Spirit Realms,
my aim was not only to
juxtapose the very
different sounds of flute
(plus alto flute and
piccolo) against a large
array of percussion, but
also to attempt three
different meditative
spaces, each named for a
different type of
spiritual practice. The
musical means of
expression is very
different for each of the
three movements (as is
the instrumentation),
although they share a
common scale-source: the
looped pentatonic scale I
have been developing over
the last several years.
The first movement
is called Prayer Tunnel,
and is named for the
Eskimo practice of solo
meditation within a
tunnel of ice blocks.
This is said to be a
means of overcoming
demons within, and in my
musical rendering it
takes the form of an
unaccompanied alto flute
solo. The flute begins
rather angrily, full of
tension, but in the
course of the solo
passage manages to slowly
unwind. The percussionist
then plays the exact same
music the alto flute had
played....on seven tuned
cymbals. Toward the end,
the alto flute re-enters,
its original meditation
having fused with its
mirror. Kiva
represents the circular,
subterranean pit in which
the Anasazi practiced
their religion, a form of
which still can be found
in the Hopi tribes of the
American southwest. These
are not spaces for solo
meditation, but rather a
group meeting place in
which only the sanctified
are permitted. After an
introductory invocation
(dove call), the music
begins. At first, it is
flowing, in a repetitive
double-five meter. It
then traces several
sections, with metric
shifts forcing the pulse
to race faster and
faster, until it halves
itself in the coda and
returns to the exact
pulse of the beginning.
The flutist here uses the
C flute, and the
percussionist plays on
both pitched (marimba)
and unpitched instruments
(various drums and struck
sources). Zendo is
the meditation room used
by Zen Buddhists. My
music begins with another
invocation (wind chimes,
temple cup gongs, and
temple blocks), then
moves on to a slow
subject stated by the
flute. The subject is
taken up by the
vibraphone, and after
several modulations and
tempo changes, the
flutist takes up the
piccolo. The music
continues higher and
higher, and faster and
faster (Zen meditation is
NOT all about becoming
lost!) until it breaks
free at the very end. The
percussionist is put
through his paces in this
movement, having to reach
a staggering number of
instruments in a short
time. Spirit
Realms was commissioned
by, and is dedicated to,
the Armstrong Duo. -- Dan
Welcher.
Alto, Mixed choir (SATB), Piano SKU: BA.BA11309 Composed by Camille Saint...(+)
Alto, Mixed choir (SATB),
Piano
SKU:
BA.BA11309
Composed
by Camille Saint-Saens.
Edited by Christina M.
Stahl. This edition:
urtext edition.
Paperback. Score.
Baerenreiter Verlag
#BA11309. Published by
Baerenreiter Verlag
(BA.BA11309).
ISBN
9790006577705. 27 x 19 cm
inches. Text Language:
English.
It is a
small music history
sensation: Thanks to Yves
Grard an unknown and
unpublished manuscript
penned by Camille
Saint-Saëns has been
unearthed in the
Mdiathèque Jean Renoir
in Dieppe in
France.
It is the
top four instrumental
parts which make this
manuscript something of a
sensation. Placed under
each other are
â??Saxophone Soprano en
Si bâ?, â??Saxophone
Alto en Mi bâ?,
â??Saxophone Tnor en Si
bâ? and â??Saxophone
Baryton en Mi bâ?,
strings, soprano solo
with chorus and organ.
Musical history has
hitherto credited
Jean-Baptiste Singele
(1812â??1875) with
having written the first
saxophone quartet, his
opus 53, which he
completed in 1857. Now
this historiography
clearly has to be
revised. The date 1854
has been found under the
first page of the
treasure from Dieppe,
which is pasted over and
also sewn, meaning that
Saint-Saënsâ?? work
was written three years
earlier than that of
Singele.
In
contrast to Singele,
Saint-Saëns does not
have the wind instruments
taking solo parts but
rather uses their tonal
colour to depict textual
moods and nuances. On the
one hand the saxophones
accompany the choral
parts (certainly singable
by amateurs) and support
the human voices in fugal
passages. On the other
hand, they take the
melody in the purely
orchestral
passages.
Saint-Sa
ëns wrote the motet in
the period when he had
taken up his first
permanent appointment as
organist at the Church of
Saint-Merri in Paris. He
revised the work several
times over the decades,
changing the motifs at
the beginning, correcting
obvious mistakes,
reworking the ending,
eventually changing the
instrumentation several
times and even â??
probably in the final
stage â?? replacing the
Latin text with an
English one. Today,
three-and-a-half versions
have been handed down,
one of them stopping
after just a few pages.
The compositional steps
have been successfully
reconstructed by means of
detailed detective work.
Furthermore, the first
saxophone version (BA
11305) and the last
English piano version (BA
11309) have been edited
to produce a
scholarly-critical
edition.
The
present edition of the
English version for
soprano solo, choir and
piano (BA 11309) serves
both as a full score and
as a vocal score due to
the
instrumentation.
About
Barenreiter
Urtext
What can I
expect from a Barenreiter
Urtext
edition?<
/p>
MUSICOLOGICA
LLY SOUND - A
reliable musical text
based on all available
sources - A
description of the
sources -
Information on the
genesis and history of
the work - Valuable
notes on performance
practice - Includes
an introduction with
critical commentary
explaining source
discrepancies and
editorial decisions
... AND
PRACTICAL -
Page-turns, fold-out
pages, and cues where you
need them - A
well-presented layout and
a user-friendly
format - Excellent
print quality -
Superior paper and
binding
Written by Mark Levine. Instructional book (spiral bound). With instructional te...(+)
Written by Mark Levine.
Instructional book
(spiral bound). With
instructional text,
musical examples and
black and white photos.
522 pages. Published by
Sher Music Company.
Ukulele SKU: HL.263232 For Ukulele. Composed by Various. Ukulele. ...(+)
Ukulele
SKU:
HL.263232
For
Ukulele. Composed by
Various. Ukulele.
Standards. Softcover. 232
pages. Published by Hal
Leonard (HL.263232).
ISBN 9781540021038.
UPC: 888680729318.
9.0x12.0x0.586
inches.
Romance,
heartbreak, optimism,
melancholy, or just a
lovely autumn day - it's
all been captured by
American songwriters. A
generation of the
country's finest
songwriters captured
universal feelings and
experiences in such an
infectious combination of
words and music that
their songs still inspire
today. This collection
features 100 classics by
treasured composers
arranged for ukulele: All
the Things You Are
(Jerome Kern) * Blue
Skies (Irving Berlin) *
Come Fly with Me (Sammy
Cahn) * Georgia on My
Mind (Hoagy Carmichael) *
Mood Indigo (Duke
Ellington) * On the
Street Where You Live
(Lerner & Loewe) *
People Will Say We're in
Love (Rodgers &
Hammerstein) * Somebody
Loves Me (George
Gershwin) * You'd Be So
Nice to Come Home To
(Cole Porter) * and
more.