| Acadia [Conducteur] Theodore Presser Co.
Band Bass Clarinet, Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2, Clarinet, Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2, Clar...(+)
Band Bass Clarinet,
Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2,
Clarinet, Clarinet 1,
Clarinet 2, Clarinet 3,
Contrabass Clarinet,
Contrabassoon, Double
Bass, English Horn,
Euphonium, Flute 1, Flute
2, Horn 1, Horn 2, Horn
3, Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe
2, Percussion 1 and more.
SKU: PR.16500103F
Mvt. 3 from Symphony
No. 6 (Three Places in
the East). Composed
by Dan Welcher. Full
score. 60 pages. Theodore
Presser Company
#165-00103F. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(PR.16500103F). ISBN
9781491131763. UPC:
680160680290. Ever
since the success of my
series of wind ensemble
works Places in the West,
I've been wanting to
write a companion piece
for national parks on the
other side of the north
American continent. The
earlier work, consisting
of GLACIER, THE
YELLOWSTONE FIRES,
ARCHES, and ZION, spanned
some twenty years of my
composing life, and since
the pieces called for
differing groups of
instruments, and were in
slightly different styles
from each other, I never
considered them to be
connected except in their
subject matter. In their
depiction of both the
scenery and the human
history within these
wondrous places, they had
a common goal: awaking
the listener to the
fragile beauty that is in
them; and calling
attention to the ever
more crucial need for
preservation and
protection of these wild
places, unique in all the
world. With this new
work, commissioned by a
consortium of college and
conservatory wind
ensembles led by the
University of Georgia, I
decided to build upon
that same model---but to
solidify the process. The
result, consisting of
three movements (each
named for a different
national park in the
eastern US), is a
bona-fide symphony. While
the three pieces could be
performed separately,
they share a musical
theme---and also a common
style and
instrumentation. It is a
true symphony, in that
the first movement is
long and expository, the
second is a rather
tightly structured
scherzo-with-trio, and
the finale is a true
culmination of the whole.
The first movement,
Everglades, was the
original inspiration for
the entire symphony.
Conceived over the course
of two trips to that
astonishing place (which
the native Americans
called River of Grass,
the subtitle of this
movement), this movement
not only conveys a sense
of the humid, lush, and
even frightening scenery
there---but also an
overview of the entire
settling-of- Florida
experience. It contains
not one, but two native
American chants, and also
presents a view of the
staggering influence of
modern man on this
fragile part of the
world. Beginning with a
slow unfolding marked
Heavy, humid, the music
soon presents a gentle,
lyrical theme in the solo
alto saxophone. This
theme, which goes through
three expansive phrases
with breaks in between,
will appear in all three
movements of the
symphony. After the mood
has been established, the
music opens up to a rich,
warm setting of a
Cherokee morning song,
with the simple happiness
that this part of Florida
must have had prior to
the nineteenth century.
This music, enveloping
and comforting, gradually
gives way to a more
frenetic, driven section
representative of the
intrusion of the white
man. Since Florida was
populated and developed
largely due to the
introduction of a train
system, there's a
suggestion of the
mechanized iron horse
driving straight into the
heartland. At that point,
the native Americans
become considerably less
gentle, and a second
chant seems to stand in
the way of the intruder;
a kind of warning song.
The second part of this
movement shows us the
great swampy center of
the peninsula, with its
wildlife both in and out
of the water. A new theme
appears, sad but noble,
suggesting that this land
is precious and must be
protected by all the
people who inhabit it. At
length, the morning song
reappears in all its
splendor, until the
sunset---with one last
iteration of the warning
song in the solo piccolo.
Functioning as a scherzo,
the second movement,
Great Smoky Mountains,
describes not just that
huge park itself, but one
brave soul's attempt to
climb a mountain there.
It begins with three
iterations of the
UR-theme (which began the
first movement as well),
but this time as up-tempo
brass fanfares in
octaves. Each time it
begins again, the theme
is a little slower and
less confident than the
previous time---almost as
though the hiker were
becoming aware of the
daunting mountain before
him. But then, a steady,
quick-pulsed ostinato
appears, in a constantly
shifting meter system of
2/4- 3/4 in alteration,
and the hike has begun.
Over this, a slower new
melody appears, as the
trek up the mountain
progresses. It's a big
mountain, and the ascent
seems to take quite
awhile, with little
breaks in the hiker's
stride, until at length
he simply must stop and
rest. An oboe solo, over
several free cadenza-like
measures, allows us (and
our friend the hiker) to
catch our breath, and
also to view in the
distance the rocky peak
before us. The goal is
somehow even more
daunting than at first,
being closer and thus
more frighteningly steep.
When we do push off
again, it's at a slower
pace, and with more
careful attention to our
footholds as we trek over
broken rocks. Tantalizing
little views of the
valley at every
switchback make our
determination even
stronger. Finally, we
burst through a stand of
pines and----we're at the
summit! The immensity of
the view is overwhelming,
and ultimately humbling.
A brief coda, while we
sit dazed on the rocks,
ends the movement in a
feeling of triumph. The
final movement, Acadia,
is also about a trip. In
the summer of 2014, I
took a sailing trip with
a dear friend from North
Haven, Maine, to the
southern coast of Mt.
Desert Island in Acadia
National Park. The
experience left me both
exuberant and exhausted,
with an appreciation for
the ocean that I hadn't
had previously. The
approach to Acadia
National Park by water,
too, was thrilling: like
the difference between
climbing a mountain on
foot with riding up on a
ski-lift, I felt I'd
earned the right to be
there. The music for this
movement is entirely
based on the opening
UR-theme. There's a sense
of the water and the
mysterious, quiet deep
from the very beginning,
with seagulls and bell
buoys setting the scene.
As we leave the harbor,
the theme (in a canon
between solo euphonium
and tuba) almost seems as
if large subaquatic
animals are observing our
departure. There are
three themes (call them
A, B and C) in this
seafaring journey---but
they are all based on the
UR theme, in its original
form with octaves
displaced, in an
upside-down form, and in
a backwards version as
well. (The ocean, while
appearing to be
unchanging, is always
changing.) We move out
into the main channel
(A), passing several
islands (B), until we
reach the long draw that
parallels the coastline
called Eggemoggin Reach,
and a sudden burst of new
speed (C). Things
suddenly stop, as if the
wind had died, and we
have a vision: is that
really Mt. Desert Island
we can see off the port
bow, vaguely in the
distance? A chorale of
saxophones seems to
suggest that. We push off
anew as the chorale ends,
and go through all three
themes again---but in
different
instrumentations, and
different keys. At the
final tack-turn, there it
is, for real: Mt. Desert
Island, big as life.
We've made it. As we pull
into the harbor, where
we'll secure the boat for
the night, there's a
feeling of achievement.
Our whale and dolphin
friends return, and we
end our journey with
gratitude and
celebration. I am
profoundly grateful to
Jaclyn Hartenberger,
Professor of Conducting
at the University of
Georgia, for leading the
consortium which provided
the commissioning of this
work. $39.99 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 2 to 3 weeks | | |
| Great Smoky Mountains [Conducteur] Theodore Presser Co.
Band Bass Clarinet, Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2, Clarinet, Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2, Clar...(+)
Band Bass Clarinet,
Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2,
Clarinet, Clarinet 1,
Clarinet 2, Clarinet 3,
Contrabass Clarinet,
Contrabassoon, Double
Bass, English Horn,
Euphonium, Flute 1, Flute
2, Horn 1, Horn 2, Horn
3, Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe
2, Percussion 1 and more.
SKU: PR.16500102F
Mvt. 2 from Symphony
No. 6 (Three Places in
the East). Composed
by Dan Welcher. Full
score. 52 pages. Theodore
Presser Company
#165-00102F. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(PR.16500102F). ISBN
9781491131749. UPC:
680160680276. Ever
since the success of my
series of wind ensemble
works Places in the West,
I've been wanting to
write a companion piece
for national parks on the
other side of the north
American continent. The
earlier work, consisting
of GLACIER, THE
YELLOWSTONE FIRES,
ARCHES, and ZION, spanned
some twenty years of my
composing life, and since
the pieces called for
differing groups of
instruments, and were in
slightly different styles
from each other, I never
considered them to be
connected except in their
subject matter. In their
depiction of both the
scenery and the human
history within these
wondrous places, they had
a common goal: awaking
the listener to the
fragile beauty that is in
them; and calling
attention to the ever
more crucial need for
preservation and
protection of these wild
places, unique in all the
world. With this new
work, commissioned by a
consortium of college and
conservatory wind
ensembles led by the
University of Georgia, I
decided to build upon
that same model---but to
solidify the process. The
result, consisting of
three movements (each
named for a different
national park in the
eastern US), is a
bona-fide symphony. While
the three pieces could be
performed separately,
they share a musical
theme---and also a common
style and
instrumentation. It is a
true symphony, in that
the first movement is
long and expository, the
second is a rather
tightly structured
scherzo-with-trio, and
the finale is a true
culmination of the whole.
The first movement,
Everglades, was the
original inspiration for
the entire symphony.
Conceived over the course
of two trips to that
astonishing place (which
the native Americans
called River of Grass,
the subtitle of this
movement), this movement
not only conveys a sense
of the humid, lush, and
even frightening scenery
there---but also an
overview of the entire
settling-of- Florida
experience. It contains
not one, but two native
American chants, and also
presents a view of the
staggering influence of
modern man on this
fragile part of the
world. Beginning with a
slow unfolding marked
Heavy, humid, the music
soon presents a gentle,
lyrical theme in the solo
alto saxophone. This
theme, which goes through
three expansive phrases
with breaks in between,
will appear in all three
movements of the
symphony. After the mood
has been established, the
music opens up to a rich,
warm setting of a
Cherokee morning song,
with the simple happiness
that this part of Florida
must have had prior to
the nineteenth century.
This music, enveloping
and comforting, gradually
gives way to a more
frenetic, driven section
representative of the
intrusion of the white
man. Since Florida was
populated and developed
largely due to the
introduction of a train
system, there's a
suggestion of the
mechanized iron horse
driving straight into the
heartland. At that point,
the native Americans
become considerably less
gentle, and a second
chant seems to stand in
the way of the intruder;
a kind of warning song.
The second part of this
movement shows us the
great swampy center of
the peninsula, with its
wildlife both in and out
of the water. A new theme
appears, sad but noble,
suggesting that this land
is precious and must be
protected by all the
people who inhabit it. At
length, the morning song
reappears in all its
splendor, until the
sunset---with one last
iteration of the warning
song in the solo piccolo.
Functioning as a scherzo,
the second movement,
Great Smoky Mountains,
describes not just that
huge park itself, but one
brave soul's attempt to
climb a mountain there.
It begins with three
iterations of the
UR-theme (which began the
first movement as well),
but this time as up-tempo
brass fanfares in
octaves. Each time it
begins again, the theme
is a little slower and
less confident than the
previous time---almost as
though the hiker were
becoming aware of the
daunting mountain before
him. But then, a steady,
quick-pulsed ostinato
appears, in a constantly
shifting meter system of
2/4- 3/4 in alteration,
and the hike has begun.
Over this, a slower new
melody appears, as the
trek up the mountain
progresses. It's a big
mountain, and the ascent
seems to take quite
awhile, with little
breaks in the hiker's
stride, until at length
he simply must stop and
rest. An oboe solo, over
several free cadenza-like
measures, allows us (and
our friend the hiker) to
catch our breath, and
also to view in the
distance the rocky peak
before us. The goal is
somehow even more
daunting than at first,
being closer and thus
more frighteningly steep.
When we do push off
again, it's at a slower
pace, and with more
careful attention to our
footholds as we trek over
broken rocks. Tantalizing
little views of the
valley at every
switchback make our
determination even
stronger. Finally, we
burst through a stand of
pines and----we're at the
summit! The immensity of
the view is overwhelming,
and ultimately humbling.
A brief coda, while we
sit dazed on the rocks,
ends the movement in a
feeling of triumph. The
final movement, Acadia,
is also about a trip. In
the summer of 2014, I
took a sailing trip with
a dear friend from North
Haven, Maine, to the
southern coast of Mt.
Desert Island in Acadia
National Park. The
experience left me both
exuberant and exhausted,
with an appreciation for
the ocean that I hadn't
had previously. The
approach to Acadia
National Park by water,
too, was thrilling: like
the difference between
climbing a mountain on
foot with riding up on a
ski-lift, I felt I'd
earned the right to be
there. The music for this
movement is entirely
based on the opening
UR-theme. There's a sense
of the water and the
mysterious, quiet deep
from the very beginning,
with seagulls and bell
buoys setting the scene.
As we leave the harbor,
the theme (in a canon
between solo euphonium
and tuba) almost seems as
if large subaquatic
animals are observing our
departure. There are
three themes (call them
A, B and C) in this
seafaring journey---but
they are all based on the
UR theme, in its original
form with octaves
displaced, in an
upside-down form, and in
a backwards version as
well. (The ocean, while
appearing to be
unchanging, is always
changing.) We move out
into the main channel
(A), passing several
islands (B), until we
reach the long draw that
parallels the coastline
called Eggemoggin Reach,
and a sudden burst of new
speed (C). Things
suddenly stop, as if the
wind had died, and we
have a vision: is that
really Mt. Desert Island
we can see off the port
bow, vaguely in the
distance? A chorale of
saxophones seems to
suggest that. We push off
anew as the chorale ends,
and go through all three
themes again---but in
different
instrumentations, and
different keys. At the
final tack-turn, there it
is, for real: Mt. Desert
Island, big as life.
We've made it. As we pull
into the harbor, where
we'll secure the boat for
the night, there's a
feeling of achievement.
Our whale and dolphin
friends return, and we
end our journey with
gratitude and
celebration. I am
profoundly grateful to
Jaclyn Hartenberger,
Professor of Conducting
at the University of
Georgia, for leading the
consortium which provided
the commissioning of this
work. $36.99 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 2 to 3 weeks | | |
| Everglades (River of Grass) [Conducteur] Theodore Presser Co.
Band Bass Clarinet, Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2, Clarinet, Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2, Clar...(+)
Band Bass Clarinet,
Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2,
Clarinet, Clarinet 1,
Clarinet 2, Clarinet 3,
Contrabass Clarinet,
Contrabassoon, Double
Bass, English Horn,
Euphonium, Flute 1, Flute
2, Horn 1, Horn 2, Horn
3, Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe
2, Percussion 1 and more.
SKU: PR.16500101F
Mvt. 1 from Symphony
No. 6 (Three Places in
the East). Composed
by Dan Welcher. Full
score. 52 pages. Theodore
Presser Company
#165-00101F. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(PR.16500101F). ISBN
9781491131725. UPC:
680160680252. Ever
since the success of my
series of wind ensemble
works Places in the West,
I've been wanting to
write a companion piece
for national parks on the
other side of the north
American continent. The
earlier work, consisting
of GLACIER, THE
YELLOWSTONE FIRES,
ARCHES, and ZION, spanned
some twenty years of my
composing life, and since
the pieces called for
differing groups of
instruments, and were in
slightly different styles
from each other, I never
considered them to be
connected except in their
subject matter. In their
depiction of both the
scenery and the human
history within these
wondrous places, they had
a common goal: awaking
the listener to the
fragile beauty that is in
them; and calling
attention to the ever
more crucial need for
preservation and
protection of these wild
places, unique in all the
world. With this new
work, commissioned by a
consortium of college and
conservatory wind
ensembles led by the
University of Georgia, I
decided to build upon
that same model---but to
solidify the process. The
result, consisting of
three movements (each
named for a different
national park in the
eastern US), is a
bona-fide symphony. While
the three pieces could be
performed separately,
they share a musical
theme---and also a common
style and
instrumentation. It is a
true symphony, in that
the first movement is
long and expository, the
second is a rather
tightly structured
scherzo-with-trio, and
the finale is a true
culmination of the whole.
The first movement,
Everglades, was the
original inspiration for
the entire symphony.
Conceived over the course
of two trips to that
astonishing place (which
the native Americans
called River of Grass,
the subtitle of this
movement), this movement
not only conveys a sense
of the humid, lush, and
even frightening scenery
there---but also an
overview of the entire
settling-of- Florida
experience. It contains
not one, but two native
American chants, and also
presents a view of the
staggering influence of
modern man on this
fragile part of the
world. Beginning with a
slow unfolding marked
Heavy, humid, the music
soon presents a gentle,
lyrical theme in the solo
alto saxophone. This
theme, which goes through
three expansive phrases
with breaks in between,
will appear in all three
movements of the
symphony. After the mood
has been established, the
music opens up to a rich,
warm setting of a
Cherokee morning song,
with the simple happiness
that this part of Florida
must have had prior to
the nineteenth century.
This music, enveloping
and comforting, gradually
gives way to a more
frenetic, driven section
representative of the
intrusion of the white
man. Since Florida was
populated and developed
largely due to the
introduction of a train
system, there's a
suggestion of the
mechanized iron horse
driving straight into the
heartland. At that point,
the native Americans
become considerably less
gentle, and a second
chant seems to stand in
the way of the intruder;
a kind of warning song.
The second part of this
movement shows us the
great swampy center of
the peninsula, with its
wildlife both in and out
of the water. A new theme
appears, sad but noble,
suggesting that this land
is precious and must be
protected by all the
people who inhabit it. At
length, the morning song
reappears in all its
splendor, until the
sunset---with one last
iteration of the warning
song in the solo piccolo.
Functioning as a scherzo,
the second movement,
Great Smoky Mountains,
describes not just that
huge park itself, but one
brave soul's attempt to
climb a mountain there.
It begins with three
iterations of the
UR-theme (which began the
first movement as well),
but this time as up-tempo
brass fanfares in
octaves. Each time it
begins again, the theme
is a little slower and
less confident than the
previous time---almost as
though the hiker were
becoming aware of the
daunting mountain before
him. But then, a steady,
quick-pulsed ostinato
appears, in a constantly
shifting meter system of
2/4- 3/4 in alteration,
and the hike has begun.
Over this, a slower new
melody appears, as the
trek up the mountain
progresses. It's a big
mountain, and the ascent
seems to take quite
awhile, with little
breaks in the hiker's
stride, until at length
he simply must stop and
rest. An oboe solo, over
several free cadenza-like
measures, allows us (and
our friend the hiker) to
catch our breath, and
also to view in the
distance the rocky peak
before us. The goal is
somehow even more
daunting than at first,
being closer and thus
more frighteningly steep.
When we do push off
again, it's at a slower
pace, and with more
careful attention to our
footholds as we trek over
broken rocks. Tantalizing
little views of the
valley at every
switchback make our
determination even
stronger. Finally, we
burst through a stand of
pines and----we're at the
summit! The immensity of
the view is overwhelming,
and ultimately humbling.
A brief coda, while we
sit dazed on the rocks,
ends the movement in a
feeling of triumph. The
final movement, Acadia,
is also about a trip. In
the summer of 2014, I
took a sailing trip with
a dear friend from North
Haven, Maine, to the
southern coast of Mt.
Desert Island in Acadia
National Park. The
experience left me both
exuberant and exhausted,
with an appreciation for
the ocean that I hadn't
had previously. The
approach to Acadia
National Park by water,
too, was thrilling: like
the difference between
climbing a mountain on
foot with riding up on a
ski-lift, I felt I'd
earned the right to be
there. The music for this
movement is entirely
based on the opening
UR-theme. There's a sense
of the water and the
mysterious, quiet deep
from the very beginning,
with seagulls and bell
buoys setting the scene.
As we leave the harbor,
the theme (in a canon
between solo euphonium
and tuba) almost seems as
if large subaquatic
animals are observing our
departure. There are
three themes (call them
A, B and C) in this
seafaring journey---but
they are all based on the
UR theme, in its original
form with octaves
displaced, in an
upside-down form, and in
a backwards version as
well. (The ocean, while
appearing to be
unchanging, is always
changing.) We move out
into the main channel
(A), passing several
islands (B), until we
reach the long draw that
parallels the coastline
called Eggemoggin Reach,
and a sudden burst of new
speed (C). Things
suddenly stop, as if the
wind had died, and we
have a vision: is that
really Mt. Desert Island
we can see off the port
bow, vaguely in the
distance? A chorale of
saxophones seems to
suggest that. We push off
anew as the chorale ends,
and go through all three
themes again---but in
different
instrumentations, and
different keys. At the
final tack-turn, there it
is, for real: Mt. Desert
Island, big as life.
We've made it. As we pull
into the harbor, where
we'll secure the boat for
the night, there's a
feeling of achievement.
Our whale and dolphin
friends return, and we
end our journey with
gratitude and
celebration. I am
profoundly grateful to
Jaclyn Hartenberger,
Professor of Conducting
at the University of
Georgia, for leading the
consortium which provided
the commissioning of this
work. $36.99 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 2 to 3 weeks | | |
| Symphony No. 6 [Conducteur] Theodore Presser Co.
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. $90.00 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 2 to 3 weeks | | |
| Quintet in F Major, K. 497 Carl Fischer
Chamber Music Cello, Flute, Viola 1, Viola 2, Violin SKU: CF.MXE219 Compo...(+)
Chamber Music Cello,
Flute, Viola 1, Viola 2,
Violin SKU:
CF.MXE219 Composed by
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
Arranged by Robert
Stallman. Sws.
56+16+16+16+16+12 pages.
Carl Fischer Music
#MXE219. Published by
Carl Fischer Music
(CF.MXE219). ISBN
9781491157794. UPC:
680160916399. 9 x 12
inches. Preface In
1990, during an intense
rehearsal of a Mozart
Quartet transcription for
flute and strings by
Franz Anton Hoffmeister,
at the Marblehead Summer
Music Festival, a
disgruntled violist
friend complained about
HoffmeisterAs awkward
string writing, suddenly
daring me to create my
own arrangement. I
balked. But the following
winterA3despite scruples
about treading on
hallowed groundA3I grew
curious and began to
experiment. Soon I was
hooked on the challenge
of learning to speak
MozartAs language with
conviction. This
fascination, encouraged
by pianist Richard Goode
and other Mozarteans,
would eventually generate
a total of thirty-nine
recreations of Mozart
piano sonatas as works
for flute and strings.
With zero tolerance for
alteration of melodic or
harmonic
materialA3MozartAs friend
Hoffmeister had
regrettably attempted
such
A!improvementsA(r)A3I
always tried to envision
what Mozart himself would
have desired. Many of the
sonatas can be heard as
if they were MozartAs
A!blueprintsA(r) of
imagined chamber works.
Hence my task was to
A!flesh outA(r) the
keyboard versions as
Mozart might have done,
had a commission or
performance opportunity
arisen. I spent hours
pondering how Mozart
might have set these
sonatas in four- or
five-part form, providing
the needed textural or
contrapuntal
enhancements. With
immersion in the
composerAs dialect,
various apt solutions
presented themselves. The
search for the
A!rightA(r) one then
became a most absorbing
study. On the eve of
releasing my BognerAs
CafA recording of
Mozart-Stallman New
Quintets (2006), I
discovered to my delight
that a prominent scholar
had long before endorsed
such an effort. Eric Blom
(1888A+-1959), author of
Mozart (1935), had taken
note of the four-hand
piano works as A!a kind
of keyboard chamber
music.A(r) Regarding
Sonata, K. 497, Mr. Blom
had observed that Mozart
is often dealing with,
not the expected four
voices (one to a hand),
but five. Blom states:
A!The F major Sonata (K.
497) removes us to
another worldA3the world
of the great chamber
music, especially of the
string quintets. Indeed
an arrangement of some
sort for a combination of
instruments would make a
magnificent concert work
of this almost
uncomfortably great piece
of domestic music.A(r)
That Mozart was in 1786
writing for piano duo
from a quintet
perspective makes sense,
as we find him returning
to the quintet form with
keen interest in his last
years, writing four
String Quintets, the
Clarinet Quintet,
rearranging a wind
serenade for String
Quintet, and leaving
several other quintets
incomplete. My
arrangement presented
here is made for flute
and strings but is also
intended for string
quintet. Quintet in F
Major for Flute and
Strings, K. 497, was
completed in 1999 and
performed with the Martin
Quartet in the Czech
Republic prior to
recording it in 2004.
Mozart had finished the
original Sonata in F
Major for Piano,
Four-Hands, K. 497, on
August 1, 1786. It shows
the unmistakable
influence of Figaro,
completed and premiered
exactly three months
prior. As signaled by the
imposing introductory
Adagio, the conception is
on a grand symphonic
scale, all three
movements being richly
developed with
contrapuntal episodes and
an abundance of
marvelously contrasting
textures and themes
throughout. Called A!the
crowning work of its
kindA(r) by Alfred
Einstein, the Sonata is
laden with examples of
MozartAs mercurial
originality. Here we have
a perfect synthesis of
concertante brilliance,
operatic intensity and
intimate dialogue. The
work opens in unison with
a probing, minor-tinged
Adagio, whose question
comes to a pause on the
dominant, before being
answered with jaunty
certainty by the opening
theme of the Allegro di
moltoA3an F-major tune as
sunny and confident as an
aria from Figaro itself.
This movementAs
declamatory A!opera
chorusA(r) persistently
intones its rhythmic
motto over a swirling
scale figure. The amorous
second theme (initially
presented in the first
viola) also seems to be
plucked from Figaro. The
Andante opens with a
heavenly melody, which
takes as its springboard
the Romanza theme from
the Horn Concerto in E
Major, K. 495, written
only five weeks before.
The A!love duetA(r)
between flute and first
viola seems to anticipate
the impassioned
A!duettingA(r) between
violin and viola in the
Andante of the String
Quintet in C Major, K.
515, written about nine
months later. The
ingenious stretto canon
of the AndanteAs middle
section requires the
precision of a Swiss
clock (which its chiming
thirds recall). Affecting
bucolic codettas close
each of the main sections
of the movement. In the
final Allegro, a rondo in
6/8a time, the puckish,
yet aristocratic
character of the opening
theme contrasts with the
bumptious, popular tune
used for the second theme
(heard first in the
violin and then the
flute, over pizzicato
cello). Lilting hymn-like
episodes in three, four-
and finally five-part
counterpoint are
repeatedly interrupted by
startling scale figures
that rise up in furioso
episodes throughout the
movement. As in the
A!Swiss clockA(r) section
of the Andante, Mozart
uses a stretto imitation
treatment with this
tempest theme, thereby
heightening both
intensity and sense of
instability. I am most
grateful to the
adventuresome Martin
Quartet for their warm
support and collaboration
over the years with
several of my
arrangements, and to my
friend Edwin Swanborn for
the original typesetting
of this score. Gratitude
is also due Weekend
Edition, Performance
Today and innumerable
classical stations across
the United States for
their enthusiastic and
repeated airings of my
A!newA(r) Mozart Quintet
endeavorsA3and most of
all, to violist Katherine
Murdock for that dare in
1990. A3Compiled from the
writings of Robert
Stallman by Hannah Woods
Stallman, February 2,
2020. Preface In 1990,
during an intense
rehearsal of a Mozart
Quartet transcription for
flute and strings by
Franz Anton Hoffmeister,
at the Marblehead Summer
Music Festival, a
disgruntled violist
friend complained about
Hoffmeisteris awkward
string writing, suddenly
daring me to create my
own arrangement. I
balked. But the following
winterodespite scruples
about treading on
hallowed groundoI grew
curious and began to
experiment. Soon I was
hooked on the challenge
of learning to speak
Mozartis language with
conviction. This
fascination, encouraged
by pianist Richard Goode
and other Mozarteans,
would eventually generate
a total of thirty-nine
recreations of Mozart
piano sonatas as works
for flute and strings.
With zero tolerance for
alteration of melodic or
harmonic
materialoMozartis friend
Hoffmeister had
regrettably attempted
such iimprovementsioI
always tried to envision
what Mozart himself would
have desired. Many of the
sonatas can be heard as
if they were Mozartis
iblueprintsi of imagined
chamber works. Hence my
task was to iflesh outi
the keyboard versions as
Mozart might have done,
had a commission or
performance opportunity
arisen. I spent hours
pondering how Mozart
might have set these
sonatas in four- or
five-part form, providing
the needed textural or
contrapuntal
enhancements. With
immersion in the
composeris dialect,
various apt solutions
presented themselves. The
search for the irighti
one then became a most
absorbing study. On the
eve of releasing my
Bogneris CafE recording
of Mozart-Stallman New
Quintets (2006), I
discovered to my delight
that a prominent scholar
had long before endorsed
such an effort. Eric Blom
(1888n1959), author of
Mozart (1935), had taken
note of the four-hand
piano works as ia kind of
keyboard chamber music.i
Regarding Sonata, K. 497,
Mr. Blom had observed
that Mozart is often
dealing with, not the
expected four voices (one
to a hand), but five.
Blom states: iThe F major
Sonata (K. 497) removes
us to another worldothe
world of the great
chamber music, especially
of the string quintets.
Indeed an arrangement of
some sort for a
combination of
instruments would make a
magnificent concert work
of this almost
uncomfortably great piece
of domestic music.i That
Mozart was in 1786
writing for piano duo
from a quintet
perspective makes sense,
as we find him returning
to the quintet form with
keen interest in his last
years, writing four
String Quintets, the
Clarinet Quintet,
rearranging a wind
serenade for String
Quintet, and leaving
several other quintets
incomplete. My
arrangement presented
here is made for flute
and strings but is also
intended for string
quintet. Quintet in F
Major for Flute and
Strings, K. 497, was
completed in 1999 and
performed with the Martin
Quartet in the Czech
Republic prior to
recording it in 2004.
Mozart had finished the
original Sonata in F
Major for Piano,
Four-Hands, K. 497, on
August 1, 1786. It shows
the unmistakable
influence of Figaro,
completed and premiered
exactly three months
prior. As signaled by the
imposing introductory
Adagio, the conception is
on a grand symphonic
scale, all three
movements being richly
developed with
contrapuntal episodes and
an abundance of
marvelously contrasting
textures and themes
throughout. Called ithe
crowning work of its
kindi by Alfred Einstein,
the Sonata is laden with
examples of Mozartis
mercurial originality.
Here we have a perfect
synthesis of concertante
brilliance, operatic
intensity and intimate
dialogue. The work opens
in unison with a probing,
minor-tinged Adagio,
whose question comes to a
pause on the dominant,
before being answered
with jaunty certainty by
the opening theme of the
Allegro di moltooan
F-major tune as sunny and
confident as an aria from
Figaro itself. This
movementis declamatory
iopera chorusi
persistently intones its
rhythmic motto over a
swirling scale figure.
The amorous second theme
(initially presented in
the first viola) also
seems to be plucked from
Figaro. The Andante opens
with a heavenly melody,
which takes as its
springboard the Romanza
theme from the Horn
Concerto in E Major, K.
495, written only five
weeks before. The ilove
dueti between flute and
first viola seems to
anticipate the
impassioned iduettingi
between violin and viola
in the Andante of the
String Quintet in C
Major, K. 515, written
about nine months later.
The ingenious stretto
canon of the Andanteis
middle section requires
the precision of a Swiss
clock (which its chiming
thirds recall). Affecting
bucolic codettas close
each of the main sections
of the movement. In the
final Allegro, a rondo in
6/8+time, the puckish,
yet aristocratic
character of the opening
theme contrasts with the
bumptious, popular tune
used for the second theme
(heard first in the
violin and then the
flute, over pizzicato
cello). Lilting hymn-like
episodes in three, four-
and finally five-part
counterpoint are
repeatedly interrupted by
startling scale figures
that rise up in furioso
episodes throughout the
movement. As in the
iSwiss clocki section of
the Andante, Mozart uses
a stretto imitation
treatment with this
tempest theme, thereby
heightening both
intensity and sense of
instability. I am most
grateful to the
adventuresome Martin
Quartet for their warm
support and collaboration
over the years with
several of my
arrangements, and to my
friend Edwin Swanborn for
the original typesetting
of this score. Gratitude
is also due Weekend
Edition, Performance
Today and innumerable
classical stations across
the United States for
their enthusiastic and
repeated airings of my
inewi Mozart Quintet
endeavorsoand most of
all, to violist Katherine
Murdock for that dare in
1990. oCompiled from the
writings of Robert
Stallman by Hannah Woods
Stallman, February 2,
2020. Preface In 1990,
during an intense
rehearsal of a Mozart
Quartet transcription for
flute and strings by
Franz Anton Hoffmeister,
at the Marblehead Summer
Music Festival, a
disgruntled violist
friend complained about
Hoffmeister's awkward
string writing, suddenly
daring me to create my
own arrangement. I
balked. But the following
winter--despite scruples
about treading on
hallowed ground--I grew
curious and began to
experiment. Soon I was
hooked on the challenge
of learning to speak
Mozart's language with
conviction. This
fascination, encouraged
by pianist Richard Goode
and other Mozarteans,
would eventually generate
a total of thirty-nine
recreations of Mozart
piano sonatas as works
for flute and strings.
With zero tolerance for
alteration of melodic or
harmonic
material--Mozart's friend
Hoffmeister had
regrettably attempted
such improvements--I
always tried to envision
what Mozart himself would
have desired. Many of the
sonatas can be heard as
if they were Mozart's
blueprints of imagined
chamber works. Hence my
task was to flesh out the
keyboard versions as
Mozart might have done,
had a commission or
performance opportunity
arisen. I spent hours
pondering how Mozart
might have set these
sonatas in four- or
five-part form, providing
the needed textural or
contrapuntal
enhancements. With
immersion in the
composer's dialect,
various apt solutions
presented themselves. The
search for the right one
then became a most
absorbing study. On the
eve of releasing my
Bogner's Cafe recording
of Mozart-Stallman New
Quintets (2006), I
discovered to my delight
that a prominent scholar
had long before endorsed
such an effort. Eric Blom
(1888-1959), author of
Mozart (1935), had taken
note of the four-hand
piano works as a kind of
keyboard chamber music.
Regarding Sonata, K. 497,
Mr. Blom had observed
that Mozart is often
dealing with, not the
expected four voices (one
to a hand), but five.
Blom states: The F major
Sonata (K. 497) removes
us to another world--the
world of the great
chamber music, especially
of the string quintets.
Indeed an arrangement of
some sort for a
combination of
instruments would make a
magnificent concert work
of this almost
uncomfortably great piece
of domestic music. That
Mozart was in 1786
writing for piano duo
from a quintet
perspective makes sense,
as we find him returning
to the quintet form with
keen interest in his last
years, writing four
String Quintets, the
Clarinet Quintet,
rearranging a wind
serenade for String
Quintet, and leaving
several other quintets
incomplete. My
arrangement presented
here is made for flute
and strings but is also
intended for string
quintet. Quintet in F
Major for Flute and
Strings, K. 497, was
completed in 1999 and
performed with the
Martinu Quartet in the
Czech Republic prior to
recording it in 2004.
Mozart had finished the
original Sonata in F
Major for Piano,
Four-Hands, K. 497, on
August 1, 1786. It shows
the unmistakable
influence of Figaro,
completed and premiered
exactly three months
prior. As signaled by the
imposing introductory
Adagio, the conception is
on a grand symphonic
scale, all three
movements being richly
developed with
contrapuntal episodes and
an abundance of
marvelously contrasting
textures and themes
throughout. Called the
crowning work of its kind
by Alfred Einstein, the
Sonata is laden with
examples of Mozart's
mercurial originality.
Here we have a perfect
synthesis of concertante
brilliance, operatic
intensity and intimate
dialogue. The work opens
in unison with a probing,
minor-tinged Adagio,
whose question comes to a
pause on the dominant,
before being answered
with jaunty certainty by
the opening theme of the
Allegro di molto--an
F-major tune as sunny and
confident as an aria from
Figaro itself. This
movement's declamatory
opera chorus persistently
intones its rhythmic
motto over a swirling
scale figure. The amorous
second theme (initially
presented in the first
viola) also seems to be
plucked from Figaro. The
Andante opens with a
heavenly melody, which
takes as its springboard
the Romanza theme from
the Horn Concerto in E<=
Major, K. 495, written
only five weeks before.
The love duet between
flute and first viola
seems to anticipate the
impassioned duetting
between violin and viola
in the Andante of the
String Quintet in C
Major, K. 515, written
about nine months later.
The ingenious stretto
canon of the Andante's
middle section requires
the precision of a Swiss
clock (which its chiming
thirds recall). Affecting
bucolic codettas close
each of the main sections
of the movement. In the
final Allegro, a rondo in
6/8 time, the puckish,
yet aristocratic
character of the opening
theme contrasts with the
bumptious, popular tune
used for the second theme
(heard first in the
violin and then the
flute, over pizzicato
cello). Lilting hymn-like
episodes in three, four-
and finally five-part
counterpoint are
repeatedly interrupted by
startling scale figures
that rise up in furioso
episodes throughout the
movement. As in the Swiss
clock section of the
Andante, Mozart uses a
stretto imitation
treatment with this
tempest theme, thereby
heightening both
intensity and sense of
instability. I am most
grateful to the
adventuresome Martinu
Quartet for their warm
support and collaboration
over the years with
several of my
arrangements, and to my
friend Edwin Swanborn for
the original typesetting
of this score. Gratitude
is also due Weekend
Edition, Performance
Today and innumerable
classical stations across
the United States for
their enthusiastic and
repeated airings of my
new Mozart Quintet
endeavors--and most of
all, to violist Katherine
Murdock for that dare in
1990. --Compiled from the
writings of Robert
Stallman by Hannah Woods
Stallman, February 2,
2020. PrefaceIn 1990,
during an intense
rehearsal of a Mozart
Quartet transcription for
flute and strings by
Franz Anton Hoffmeister,
at the Marblehead Summer
Music Festival, a
disgruntled violist
friend complained about
Hoffmeister’s
awkward string writing,
suddenly daring me to
create my own
arrangement. I balked.
But the following
winter—despite
scruples about treading
on hallowed
ground—I grew
curious and began to
experiment. Soon I was
hooked on the challenge
of learning to speak
Mozart’s language
with conviction. This
fascination, encouraged
by pianist Richard Goode
and other Mozarteans,
would eventually generate
a total of thirty-nine
recreations of Mozart
piano sonatas as works
for flute and
strings.With zero
tolerance for alteration
of melodic or harmonic
material—Mozartâ
™s friend Hoffmeister
had regrettably attempted
such
“improvementsâ€
—I always tried
to envision what Mozart
himself would have
desired. Many of the
sonatas can be heard as
if they were
Mozart’s
“blueprintsâ€
of imagined chamber
works. Hence my task was
to “flesh
out†the keyboard
versions as Mozart might
have done, had a
commission or performance
opportunity arisen. I
spent hours pondering how
Mozart might have set
these sonatas in four- or
five-part form, providing
the needed textural or
contrapuntal
enhancements. With
immersion in the
composer’s
dialect, various apt
solutions presented
themselves. The search
for the
“right†one
then became a most
absorbing study.On the
eve of releasing my
Bogner’s Café
recording of
Mozart-Stallman New
Quintets (2006), I
discovered to my delight
that a prominent scholar
had long before endorsed
such an effort. Eric Blom
(1888–1959),
author of Mozart (1935),
had taken note of the
four-hand piano works as
“a kind of keyboard
chamber music.â€
Regarding Sonata, K. 497,
Mr. Blom had observed
that Mozart is often
dealing with, not the
expected four voices (one
to a hand), but five.
Blom states: “The F
major Sonata (K. 497)
removes us to another
world—the world of
the great chamber music,
especially of the string
quintets. Indeed an
arrangement of some sort
for a combination of
instruments would make a
magnificent concert work
of this almost
uncomfortably great piece
of domestic music.â€
That Mozart was in 1786
writing for piano duo
from a quintet
perspective makes sense,
as we find him returning
to the quintet form with
keen interest in his last
years, writing four
String Quintets, the
Clarinet Quintet,
rearranging a wind
serenade for String
Quintet, and leaving
several other quintets
incomplete. My
arrangement presented
here is made for flute
and strings but is also
intended for string
quintet.Quintet in F
Major for Flute and
Strings, K. 497, was
completed in 1999 and
performed with the
Martinů Quartet in the
Czech Republic prior to
recording it in 2004.
Mozart had finished the
original Sonata in F
Major for Piano,
Four-Hands, K. 497, on
August 1, 1786. It shows
the unmistakable
influence of Figaro,
completed and premiered
exactly three months
prior. As signaled by the
imposing introductory
Adagio, the conception is
on a grand symphonic
scale, all three
movements being richly
developed with
contrapuntal episodes and
an abundance of
marvelously contrasting
textures and themes
throughout. Called
“the crowning work
of its kind†by
Alfred Einstein, the
Sonata is laden with
examples of
Mozart’s mercurial
originality. Here we have
a perfect synthesis of
concertante brilliance,
operatic intensity and
intimate dialogue.The
work opens in unison with
a probing, minor-tinged
Adagio, whose question
comes to a pause on the
dominant, before being
answered with jaunty
certainty by the opening
theme of the Allegro di
molto—an F-major
tune as sunny and
confident as an aria from
Figaro itself. This
movement’s
declamatory “opera
chorusâ€
persistently intones its
rhythmic motto over a
swirling scale figure.
The amorous second theme
(initially presented in
the first viola) also
seems to be plucked from
Figaro.The Andante opens
with a heavenly melody,
which takes as its
springboard the Romanza
theme from the Horn
Concerto in E≤
Major, K. 495, written
only five weeks before.
The “love
duet†between flute
and first viola seems to
anticipate the
impassioned
“duettingâ€
between violin and viola
in the Andante of the
String Quintet in C
Major, K. 515, written
about nine months later.
The ingenious stretto
canon of the
Andante’s middle
section requires the
precision of a Swiss
clock (which its chiming
thirds recall). Affecting
bucolic codettas close
each of the main sections
of the movement.In the
final Allegro, a rondo in
6/8Â time, the puckish,
yet aristocratic
character of the opening
theme contrasts with the
bumptious, popular tune
used for the second theme
(heard first in the
violin and then the
flute, over pizzicato
cello). Lilting hymn-like
episodes in three, four-
and finally five-part
counterpoint are
repeatedly interrupted by
startling scale figures
that rise up in furioso
episodes throughout the
movement. As in the
“Swiss clockâ€
section of the Andante,
Mozart uses a stretto
imitation treatment with
this tempest theme,
thereby heightening both
intensity and sense of
instability.I am most
grateful to the
adventuresome Martinů
Quartet for their warm
support and collaboration
over the years with
several of my
arrangements, and to my
friend Edwin Swanborn for
the original typesetting
of this score. Gratitude
is also due Weekend
Edition, Performance
Today and innumerable
classical stations across
the United States for
their enthusiastic and
repeated airings of my
“new†Mozart
Quintet
endeavors—and most
of all, to violist
Katherine Murdock for
that dare in
1990.—Compiled
from the writings of
Robert Stallmanby Hannah
Woods Stallman,February
2, 2020. $42.00 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 24 hours - In Stock | | |
| Berko's Journey Theodore Presser Co.
Orchestra Bass Clarinet, Bass Trombone, Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2, Cello, Clarinet in...(+)
Orchestra Bass Clarinet,
Bass Trombone, Bassoon 1,
Bassoon 2, Cello,
Clarinet in Bb 1,
Clarinet in Bb 2,
Clarinet in Bb 3,
Contrabassoon, Double
Bass, English Horn, Flute
1, Flute 2, Flute 3,
Harp, Horn 1, Horn 3,
Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe 2,
Percussion 1 and more.
SKU: PR.11642143L
Composed by Stacy Garrop.
Spiral. Large Score. 68
pages. Duration 20
minutes. Theodore Presser
Company #116-42143L.
Published by Theodore
Presser Company
(PR.11642143L). UPC:
680160693320. 11 x 17
inches. For most of
my life, I never knew
where my father’s
family came from, beyond
a few broad strokes: they
had emigrated in the
early 1900s from Eastern
Europe and altered the
family name along the
way. This radically
changed in the summer of
2021 when my mother and
sister came across a
folder in our family
filing cabinet and made
an astounding discovery
of documents that
revealed when, where, and
how my great-grandfather
came to America. The
information I had been
seeking was at home all
along, waiting over forty
years to be
discovered.Berko
Gorobzoff, my
great-grandfather, left
Ekaterinoslav in 1904. At
that time, this city was
in the southern Russian
area of modern-day
Ukraine; as his family
was Jewish, he and his
siblings were attempting
to escape the ongoing
religious persecution and
pogroms instigated by
Tzar Nicholas II to root
out Jewish people from
Russia. Berko’s older
brother Jakob had already
emigrated to Illinois,
and Berko was traveling
with Chaje, Jakob’s
wife, to join him. Their
timing was fortuitous, as
the following year saw a
series of massive, brutal
pogroms in the region.
After arriving in
Illinois, Berko went on
to Omaha, Nebraska, where
he married my
great-grandmother Anna
about eighteen months
later. They remained in
Omaha for the rest of
their lives.There is one
more intriguing part to
this historical account:
I have a great-aunt in
Texas who, as it turns
out, is the youngest
daughter of Berko and
Anna. Through a series of
phone calls, my
great-aunt and I
discussed what she could
remember: her parents
spoke Yiddish at home,
her mother didn’t learn
to read or write in
English so my great-aunt
was tasked with writing
letters to family
members, Berko ran a
grocery store followed by
a small hotel, and her
parents enjoyed playing
poker with friends. Above
all else, neither of her
parents ever spoke a word
about their past or how
they got to America. This
was a common trait among
Eastern European Jewish
immigrants whose goal was
to “blend in” within
their new communities and
country.To
craft Berko’s
Journey, I melded the
facts I uncovered about
Berko with my own
research into methods of
transportation in the
early 1900s. Also, to
represent his heritage, I
wove two Yiddish songs
and one Klezmer tune into
the work. In movement
1, Leaving
Ekaterinoslav, we hear
Berko packing his
belongings, saying his
goodbyes to family and
friends, and walking to
the train station.
Included in this movement
is a snippet of the
Yiddish song “The
Miller’s Tears” which
references how the Jews
were driven out of their
villages by the Russian
army. In movement 2, In
Transit, we follow Berko
as he boards a train and
then a steamship, sails
across the Atlantic
Ocean, arrives at Ellis
Island and anxiously
waits in line for
immigration, jubilantly
steps foot into New York
City, and finally boards
a train that will take
him to Chicago. While
he’s on the steamship,
we hear a group of fellow
steerage musicians play a
klezmer tune
(“Freylachs in d
minor”). In movement
3, At Home in Omaha, we
hear Berko court and
marry Anna. Their
courtship is represented
by “Tumbalalaika,” a
Yiddish puzzle folksong
in which a man asks a
woman a series of riddles
in order to get better
acquainted with each
other and to test her
intellect.On a final
note, I crafted a musical
motive to represent Berko
throughout the piece.
This motive is heard at
the beginning of the
first movement; its first
pitches are B and E,
which represent the first
two letters of Berko’s
name. I scatter this
theme throughout the
piece as Berko travels
towards a new world and
life. As the piece
concludes, we hear
Berko’s theme
repeatedly and in close
succession, representing
the descendants of the
Garrop line that came
from Berko and
Anna. For most of my
life, I never knew where
my father’s family came
from, beyond a few broad
strokes: they had
emigrated in the early
1900s from Eastern Europe
and altered the family
name along the way. This
radically changed in the
summer of 2021 when my
mother and sister came
across a folder in our
family filing cabinet and
made an astounding
discovery of documents
that revealed when,
where, and how my
great-grandfather came to
America. The information
I had been seeking was at
home all along, waiting
over forty years to be
discovered.Berko
Gorobzoff, my
great-grandfather, left
Ekaterinoslav in 1904. At
that time, this city was
in the southern Russian
area of modern-day
Ukraine; as his family
was Jewish, he and his
siblings were attempting
to escape the ongoing
religious persecution and
pogroms instigated by
Tzar Nicholas II to root
out Jewish people from
Russia. Berko’s older
brother Jakob had already
emigrated to Illinois,
and Berko was traveling
with Chaje, Jakob’s
wife, to join him. Their
timing was fortuitous, as
the following year saw a
series of massive, brutal
pogroms in the region.
After arriving in
Illinois, Berko went on
to Omaha, Nebraska, where
he married my
great-grandmother Anna
about eighteen months
later. They remained in
Omaha for the rest of
their lives.There is one
more intriguing part to
this historical account:
I have a great-aunt in
Texas who, as it turns
out, is the youngest
daughter of Berko and
Anna. Through a series of
phone calls, my
great-aunt and I
discussed what she could
remember: her parents
spoke Yiddish at home,
her mother didn’t learn
to read or write in
English so my great-aunt
was tasked with writing
letters to family
members, Berko ran a
grocery store followed by
a small hotel, and her
parents enjoyed playing
poker with friends. Above
all else, neither of her
parents ever spoke a word
about their past or how
they got to America. This
was a common trait among
Eastern European Jewish
immigrants whose goal was
to “blend in” within
their new communities and
country.To
craftxa0Berko’s
Journey,xa0I melded the
facts I uncovered about
Berko with my own
research into methods of
transportation in the
early 1900s. Also, to
represent his heritage, I
wove two Yiddish songs
and one Klezmer tune into
the work. In movement
1,xa0Leaving
Ekaterinoslav,xa0we hear
Berko packing his
belongings, saying his
goodbyes to family and
friends, and walking to
the train station.
Included in this movement
is a snippet of the
Yiddish song “The
Miller’s Tears” which
references how the Jews
were driven out of their
villages by the Russian
army. In movement 2,xa0In
Transit,xa0we follow
Berko as he boards a
train and then a
steamship, sails across
the Atlantic Ocean,
arrives at Ellis Island
and anxiously waits in
line for immigration,
jubilantly steps foot
into New York City, and
finally boards a train
that will take him to
Chicago. While he’s on
the steamship, we hear a
group of fellow steerage
musicians play a klezmer
tune (“Freylachs in d
minor”). In movement
3,xa0At Home in
Omaha,xa0we hear Berko
court and marry Anna.
Their courtship is
represented by
“Tumbalalaika,” a
Yiddish puzzle folksong
in which a man asks a
woman a series of riddles
in order to get better
acquainted with each
other and to test her
intellect.On a final
note, I crafted a musical
motive to represent Berko
throughout the piece.
This motive is heard at
the beginning of the
first movement; its first
pitches are B and E,
which represent the first
two letters of Berko’s
name. I scatter this
theme throughout the
piece as Berko travels
towards a new world and
life. As the piece
concludes, we hear
Berko’s theme
repeatedly and in close
succession, representing
the descendants of the
Garrop line that came
from Berko and Anna. $71.99 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 2 to 3 weeks | | |
| Berko's Journey [Conducteur] Theodore Presser Co.
Orchestra Bass Clarinet, Bass Trombone, Bassoon 1, Bassoon 2, Cello, Clarinet in...(+)
Orchestra Bass Clarinet,
Bass Trombone, Bassoon 1,
Bassoon 2, Cello,
Clarinet in Bb 1,
Clarinet in Bb 2,
Clarinet in Bb 3,
Contrabassoon, Double
Bass, English Horn, Flute
1, Flute 2, Flute 3,
Harp, Horn 1, Horn 3,
Horn 4, Oboe 1, Oboe 2,
Percussion 1 and more.
SKU: PR.11642143S
Composed by Stacy Garrop.
Sws. Score. 68 pages.
Duration 20 minutes.
Theodore Presser Company
#116-42143S. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(PR.11642143S). UPC:
680160693313. 11 x 17
inches. For most of
my life, I never knew
where my father’s
family came from, beyond
a few broad strokes: they
had emigrated in the
early 1900s from Eastern
Europe and altered the
family name along the
way. This radically
changed in the summer of
2021 when my mother and
sister came across a
folder in our family
filing cabinet and made
an astounding discovery
of documents that
revealed when, where, and
how my great-grandfather
came to America. The
information I had been
seeking was at home all
along, waiting over forty
years to be
discovered.Berko
Gorobzoff, my
great-grandfather, left
Ekaterinoslav in 1904. At
that time, this city was
in the southern Russian
area of modern-day
Ukraine; as his family
was Jewish, he and his
siblings were attempting
to escape the ongoing
religious persecution and
pogroms instigated by
Tzar Nicholas II to root
out Jewish people from
Russia. Berko’s older
brother Jakob had already
emigrated to Illinois,
and Berko was traveling
with Chaje, Jakob’s
wife, to join him. Their
timing was fortuitous, as
the following year saw a
series of massive, brutal
pogroms in the region.
After arriving in
Illinois, Berko went on
to Omaha, Nebraska, where
he married my
great-grandmother Anna
about eighteen months
later. They remained in
Omaha for the rest of
their lives.There is one
more intriguing part to
this historical account:
I have a great-aunt in
Texas who, as it turns
out, is the youngest
daughter of Berko and
Anna. Through a series of
phone calls, my
great-aunt and I
discussed what she could
remember: her parents
spoke Yiddish at home,
her mother didn’t learn
to read or write in
English so my great-aunt
was tasked with writing
letters to family
members, Berko ran a
grocery store followed by
a small hotel, and her
parents enjoyed playing
poker with friends. Above
all else, neither of her
parents ever spoke a word
about their past or how
they got to America. This
was a common trait among
Eastern European Jewish
immigrants whose goal was
to “blend in” within
their new communities and
country.To
craft Berko’s
Journey, I melded the
facts I uncovered about
Berko with my own
research into methods of
transportation in the
early 1900s. Also, to
represent his heritage, I
wove two Yiddish songs
and one Klezmer tune into
the work. In movement
1, Leaving
Ekaterinoslav, we hear
Berko packing his
belongings, saying his
goodbyes to family and
friends, and walking to
the train station.
Included in this movement
is a snippet of the
Yiddish song “The
Miller’s Tears” which
references how the Jews
were driven out of their
villages by the Russian
army. In movement 2, In
Transit, we follow Berko
as he boards a train and
then a steamship, sails
across the Atlantic
Ocean, arrives at Ellis
Island and anxiously
waits in line for
immigration, jubilantly
steps foot into New York
City, and finally boards
a train that will take
him to Chicago. While
he’s on the steamship,
we hear a group of fellow
steerage musicians play a
klezmer tune
(“Freylachs in d
minor”). In movement
3, At Home in Omaha, we
hear Berko court and
marry Anna. Their
courtship is represented
by “Tumbalalaika,” a
Yiddish puzzle folksong
in which a man asks a
woman a series of riddles
in order to get better
acquainted with each
other and to test her
intellect.On a final
note, I crafted a musical
motive to represent Berko
throughout the piece.
This motive is heard at
the beginning of the
first movement; its first
pitches are B and E,
which represent the first
two letters of Berko’s
name. I scatter this
theme throughout the
piece as Berko travels
towards a new world and
life. As the piece
concludes, we hear
Berko’s theme
repeatedly and in close
succession, representing
the descendants of the
Garrop line that came
from Berko and
Anna. For most of my
life, I never knew where
my father’s family came
from, beyond a few broad
strokes: they had
emigrated in the early
1900s from Eastern Europe
and altered the family
name along the way. This
radically changed in the
summer of 2021 when my
mother and sister came
across a folder in our
family filing cabinet and
made an astounding
discovery of documents
that revealed when,
where, and how my
great-grandfather came to
America. The information
I had been seeking was at
home all along, waiting
over forty years to be
discovered.Berko
Gorobzoff, my
great-grandfather, left
Ekaterinoslav in 1904. At
that time, this city was
in the southern Russian
area of modern-day
Ukraine; as his family
was Jewish, he and his
siblings were attempting
to escape the ongoing
religious persecution and
pogroms instigated by
Tzar Nicholas II to root
out Jewish people from
Russia. Berko’s older
brother Jakob had already
emigrated to Illinois,
and Berko was traveling
with Chaje, Jakob’s
wife, to join him. Their
timing was fortuitous, as
the following year saw a
series of massive, brutal
pogroms in the region.
After arriving in
Illinois, Berko went on
to Omaha, Nebraska, where
he married my
great-grandmother Anna
about eighteen months
later. They remained in
Omaha for the rest of
their lives.There is one
more intriguing part to
this historical account:
I have a great-aunt in
Texas who, as it turns
out, is the youngest
daughter of Berko and
Anna. Through a series of
phone calls, my
great-aunt and I
discussed what she could
remember: her parents
spoke Yiddish at home,
her mother didn’t learn
to read or write in
English so my great-aunt
was tasked with writing
letters to family
members, Berko ran a
grocery store followed by
a small hotel, and her
parents enjoyed playing
poker with friends. Above
all else, neither of her
parents ever spoke a word
about their past or how
they got to America. This
was a common trait among
Eastern European Jewish
immigrants whose goal was
to “blend in” within
their new communities and
country.To
craftxa0Berko’s
Journey,xa0I melded the
facts I uncovered about
Berko with my own
research into methods of
transportation in the
early 1900s. Also, to
represent his heritage, I
wove two Yiddish songs
and one Klezmer tune into
the work. In movement
1,xa0Leaving
Ekaterinoslav,xa0we hear
Berko packing his
belongings, saying his
goodbyes to family and
friends, and walking to
the train station.
Included in this movement
is a snippet of the
Yiddish song “The
Miller’s Tears” which
references how the Jews
were driven out of their
villages by the Russian
army. In movement 2,xa0In
Transit,xa0we follow
Berko as he boards a
train and then a
steamship, sails across
the Atlantic Ocean,
arrives at Ellis Island
and anxiously waits in
line for immigration,
jubilantly steps foot
into New York City, and
finally boards a train
that will take him to
Chicago. While he’s on
the steamship, we hear a
group of fellow steerage
musicians play a klezmer
tune (“Freylachs in d
minor”). In movement
3,xa0At Home in
Omaha,xa0we hear Berko
court and marry Anna.
Their courtship is
represented by
“Tumbalalaika,” a
Yiddish puzzle folksong
in which a man asks a
woman a series of riddles
in order to get better
acquainted with each
other and to test her
intellect.On a final
note, I crafted a musical
motive to represent Berko
throughout the piece.
This motive is heard at
the beginning of the
first movement; its first
pitches are B and E,
which represent the first
two letters of Berko’s
name. I scatter this
theme throughout the
piece as Berko travels
towards a new world and
life. As the piece
concludes, we hear
Berko’s theme
repeatedly and in close
succession, representing
the descendants of the
Garrop line that came
from Berko and Anna. $40.99 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 2 to 3 weeks | | |
| Ostinati Fanfare [Conducteur et Parties séparées] - Intermédiaire/avancé De Haske Publications
Fanfare Band - Grade 6 SKU: BT.DHP-1115084-020 Composed by Jan Van der Ro...(+)
Fanfare Band - Grade 6
SKU:
BT.DHP-1115084-020
Composed by Jan Van der
Roost. Concert and
Contest Collection CBHA.
Set (Score & Parts). De
Haske Publications #DHP
1115084-020. Published by
De Haske Publications
(BT.DHP-1115084-020).
9x12 inches.
English-German-French-Dut
ch. It may be
surprising to see a
fanfare piece
commissioned by a
Japanese ensemble, since
fanfare orchestras are
typically found in
Belgium, Holland and
Luxembourg, and also
France and Switzerland.
Senzoku Gakuen is one of
the largest and
mostprestigious music
universities in Japan,
and home to a wide
variety of ensembles and
orchestras. Since 2006
they have had a fanfare
orchestra, which was
started by Sotaru
Fukaishi, a euphonium
teacher who felt further
performance opportunity
wasneeded for saxhorn
instruments. Fukaishi had
loved the sound of
fanfare orchestras ever
since visiting the World
Music Contest in Kerkrade
(Holland) several years
earlier. Jan Van der
Roost was involved with
this new initiative from
the beginning,and they
were also joined by Manu
Mellaerts for certain
projects. The Dean of the
music department,
Professor Kazuo Tomioka,
fully supports the
ensemble and commissioned
Ostinati. The
première took place on
June 11th at Maeda Hall
inMizonokuchi (Kawasaki)
where Senzoku Gakuen is
based. The piece opens
with an impressive
timpani solo, followed by
brass and saxophone. The
rhythmical pulse remains
constant and the music is
fiery and assertive in
character. A pentatonic
melodygradually emerges
and the music loses its
vehemency and softens.
The initial percussion
ostinati subsequently
recurs and the first
section of the piece
concludes in a similar
mood to the opening. The
second movement is sweet
and melodic, opening
witha long passage for
the saxophone family in a
minor key. The same theme
then appears in the major
and is developed upon;
the music builds to a
majestic orchestral
forte, reminiscent of a
pipe organ in its
sonority. The theme
returns in the
originalminor key with a
change in instrumentation
leading the movement to a
quiet and peaceful end on
a soft E minor chord. The
finale starts with
percussion: a four-bar
pattern is repeated
several times over which
the movement’s
melodic themes
areintroduced. These
melodic elements are
varied and used in
different versions and
the ostinato idea, which
characterizes the entire
piece, is highlighted.
The theme travels through
the orchestra, appearing
on various instruments
and in variousregisters.
It captures the
listener’s
attention and displays
the full range of sound
and colour within the
fanfare
orchestra.
Het is
misschien verrassend dat
dit fanfarewerk is
geschreven in opdracht
van een Japans ensemble,
aangezien fanfareorkesten
vooral te vinden zijn in
België, Nederland en
Luxemburg, en ook wel in
Frankrijk en Zwitserland.
SenzokuGakuen is een van
de grootste en meest
prestigieuze
muziekopleidingen van
Japan, en de thuisbasis
van een grote
verscheidenheid van
ensembles en orkesten. In
2006 is er een
fanfareorkest opgericht,
en wel door Sotaru
Fukaishi,
eeneuphoniumdocent die
vond dat er meer
mogelijkheden moesten
komen voor optredens met
saxhoorninstrumenten.
Fukaishi had enkele jaren
daarvoor genoten van de
fanfareklank toen hij het
Wereld Muziek Concours in
Kerkrade bezocht.
DeBelgische componist Jan
Van der Roost was van het
begin af aan betrokken
bij dit nieuwe
initiatief, en ook Manu
Mellaerts werd voor een
aantal projecten
aangetrokken. Het hoofd
van de muziekfaculteit,
professor Kazuo Tomioka,
staatgeheel achter het
ensemble en gaf de
opdracht tot het
schrijven van
Ostinati. De
première vond plaats
op 11 juni in de Maeda
Hall in Mizonokuchi
(Kawasaki), waar Senzoku
Gakuen is gevestigd. Het
werk begint met een
indrukwekkendepaukensolo,
gevolgd door koper en
saxofoon. De ritmische
puls blijft constant, en
de aard van de muziek is
vurig en krachtig.
Geleidelijk komt er een
pentatonische melodie
naar voren en wordt de
muziek minder heftig, ze
wordtzachter van
karakter. De
aanvankelijke ostinati in
het slagwerk verschijnen
dan opnieuw, waarna het
eerste deel van het werk
eindigt in dezelfde sfeer
als waarmee het begon.
Het tweede deel is
lieflijk en melodisch.
Het opentmet een lange
passage voor de saxofoons
in een mineurtoonsoort.
Dan klinkt hetzelfde
thema in majeur en daar
wordt op voortgeborduurd:
de muziek ontwikkelt zich
tot een majestueus
orkestraal forte, dat qua
sonoriteit doet
denken
Es mag
überraschen, dass
dieses
Fanfareorchesterwerk
ausgerechnet von einem
japanischen Ensemble in
Auftrag gegeben wurde, da
Fanfareorchester doch
eher in Belgien, den
Niederlanden oder
Luxemburg oder auch in
Frankreich oder Schweiz
zu finden sind. Senzoku
Gakuen ist eine der
größten und
renommiertesten
Musikschulen Japans und
Heimstätte einer
Vielfalt an Ensembles und
Orchestern. Im Jahr 2006
wurde ein
Fanfareorchester
gegründet. Den
Anstoß gab Sotaru
Fukaishi, ein
Euphoniumlehrer, der den
Instrumenten der
Saxhorn-Familie mehr
Spielmöglichkeiten
bieten wollte. Fukaishi
hatte sich einige Jahre
zuvor bei der
Weltmeisterschaft in
Kerkrade (Holland) in den
Klang
vonFanfareorchestern
verliebt. Jan Van der
Roost war von Beginn an
in die Entwicklung dieser
Idee involviert und,
einige Projekte
betreffend, ebenso Manu
Mellaerts. Der Dekan des
Musik-Colleges, Professor
Kazuo Tomioka, steht voll
und ganz hinter dem
Ensemble und gab
Ostinati in
Auftrag. Die Premiere
fand am 11. Juni 2011 in
der Maeda Hall in
Mizonokuchi statt, dem
Heimatort der Schule
Senzoku Gakuen. Das
Stück beginnt mit
einem eindrucksvollen
Paukensolo, bevor
Blechbläser und
Saxophon einsetzen. Der
rhythmische Puls bleibt
konstant unter einer
feurigen,
nachdrücklichen Musik.
Eine pentatonische
Melodie bildet sich nach
und nach heraus,
während die Musik an
Heftigkeit verliert und
sanfter wird. Die
anfänglichen Ostinati
im Schlagwerk kehren
zurück und so endet
der erste Satz des Werkes
in einer der Eröffnung
ähnlichen Stimmung.
Der zweite Satz ist
lieblich und melodiös.
Er beginnt mit einem
langen Abschnitt für
die Saxophone in Moll.
Dann erscheint das
gleiche Thema in Dur und
durchläuft eine
Entwicklung; die Musik
baut sich zu einem
majestätischen
orchestralen Forte auf,
das in seiner
Klangfülle an eine
Orgel erinnert. Dann
kehrt das Thema in seiner
ursprünglichen
Moll-Tonart und in
veränderter
Instrumentierung
zurück, um den Satz
ruhig und friedvoll in
einem e-Moll-Akkord enden
zu lassen.
Il
pourrait paraître
surprenant qu’un
ensemble japonais puisse
commander une pièce
pour orchestre de
fanfare, puisque
l’on rencontre
surtout ce type de
formation en Belgique,
aux Pays-Bas et au
Luxembourg, ainsi
qu’en France et en
Suisse. Senzoku Gakuen,
l’une des plus
grandes et plus
prestigieuses
académies de musique
du Japon, compte une
grande variété
d’ensembles et
d’orchestres. En
2006 s’y est
ajouté un orchestre de
fanfare fondé par
Sotaru Fukaishi, un
professeur
d’euphonium qui
pensait qu’il
était nécessaire
d’offrir de plus
larges possibilités
aux cuivres de la
région. Depuis
qu’il avait
assisté au World Music
Contest de Kerkrade
(Pays-Bas), plusieurs
années
auparavant,Fukaishi se
prit de passion pour le
son chaud et
généreux de
l’orchestre de
fanfare, une formation
atypique au Japon. Jan
Van der Roost a
favorablement
adhéré cette
nouvelle initiative,
tandis que Manu Mellaerts
collabora avec les deux
hommes afin de
concrétiser certains
projets. Le professeur
Kazuo Tomioka, doyen du
collège de musique,
soutint vigoureusement
l’orchestre et
commanda Ostinati.
La création de
l’oeuvre fut
donnée le 11 juin 2011
au Maeda Hall de
Mizonokuchi (Kawasaki),
où se trouve Senzoku
Gakuen. La pièce
débute avec un
impressionnant solo de
timbales précédant
l’entrée des
cuivres et des
saxophones. La pulsion
rythmique est constante,
la musique est
énergique et de
caractère affirmé.
Une mélodie
pentatonique émerge
graduellement, alors que
la trame musicale diminue
d’intensité et
s’adoucit.
L’ostinato la
percussion revient
fréquemment et la
première partie de
l’oeuvre se
termine dans un climat
semblable celui du
début. Le deuxième
mouvement, doux et
romancé, débute
avec un long passage en
mode mineur joué par
les saxophones. Le
même thème
apparaît alors en mode
majeur et se développe
peu peu ; la musique
s’intensifie pour
arriver un majestueux et
orchestral forte dont les
sonorités rappellent
celles d’un orgue
d’église. Puis
le thème revient sa
tonalité mineure
d’origine avec un
changement
d’instrumentation
qui mène. $478.95 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 2 to 3 weeks | | |
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