| Acadia 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 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) 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 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 | | |
| Keyboard of the Winds Piano seul Theodore Presser Co.
Chamber Music Piano SKU: PR.110418160 Composed by Stacy Garrop. Performan...(+)
Chamber Music Piano
SKU: PR.110418160
Composed by Stacy Garrop.
Performance score. With
Standard notation. 16
pages. Duration 8:30.
Theodore Presser Company
#110-41816. Published by
Theodore Presser Company
(PR.110418160). ISBN
9781491114049. UPC:
680160640393. 9 x 12
inches. Stacy
Garrop began hiking in
northern
Colorado’s Rocky
Mountain National Park in
her early 20s. From the
start, she was drawn to a
jagged stretch of rock
formations linking Longs
Peak to Pagoda Mountain,
at over 13,000 feet.
These formations are
called the
“Keyboard of the
Winds,†as their
thin, spindly peaks
suggest splintered keys
of an old, broken piano.
Inspired by one
particular journey the
composer took through the
Keyboard of the Winds en
route to Pagoda’s
summit, this work is a
tribute to the Keyboard
of the Winds. Its fast,
whirling gestures depict
swirling clouds above,
and the musical high
points represent a hiker
reaching the peak of
Pagoda Mountain. These
sections are set in
contrast with quiet,
introspective material
embodying the hiker
quietly surveying the
grandeur and beauty of
the valley below, as well
as the soaring pinnacle
of Longs Peak
overhead. I began
hiking in the Rocky
Mountain National Park in
northern Colorado when I
was in my early twenties.
RMNP is home to some of
the most gorgeous
mountains in North
America, encompassing
265,000 acres of
wilderness, flora, and
fauna. Among the
park’s numerous
summits is Longs Peak, a
mountain that is 14,259
feet high (the highest in
the region). From my
earliest days of hiking,
I was drawn to Longs
Peak, as well as to a
jagged stretch of rock
formations that link
Longs Peak to Pagoda
Mountain (which stands at
13,497 feet). These
formations are called the
Keyboard of the Winds, as
their thin, spindly peaks
loosely suggest the
splintered keys of an
old, broken piano.One
summer, I made the ascent
to Pagoda Mountain using
a route that took me
along the right side of
the Keyboard of the
Winds. My hiking partner
and I started up the
trail in the pre-dawn
hours, and the weather
was stormy. Dawn had
broken by the time we
reached the base of the
Keyboard, but its peaks
were still surrounded by
clouds. As we climbed
higher and higher, the
Keyboard’s thin
spires became visible,
along with the top of
Pagoda Mountain. We
reached the summit of
Pagoda, admired the view
(what we could see
through the clouds), and
made our descent.My piece
is a tribute to the
Keyboard of the Winds.
The fast, whirling
gestures depict swirling
clouds, and the musical
high points represent a
hiker reaching the peaks
of the Keyboard. I have
contrasted these sections
with quiet, introspective
material; these embody
the hiker quietly
surveying the grandeur
and beauty of the valley
below (on a cloudless
day), as well as the
soaring pinnacles of
Longs Peak and Pagoda
Mountain overhead. $18.99 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 1 to 2 weeks | | |
| Mont Blanc Orchestre d'harmonie [Conducteur et Parties séparées] Hal Leonard
For Concert Band. Composed by Otto M. Schwarz. Duration 135 seconds. Hal Leona...(+)
For Concert Band.
Composed by
Otto M. Schwarz. Duration
135
seconds. Hal Leonard
#SDP067.21-02. Published
by
Hal Leonard
$90.00 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 2 to 3 weeks | | |
| Downshifting Theodore Presser Co.
Band Bass Clarinet, Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2, Clarinet 3, Contrabass Clarinet, Eup...(+)
Band Bass Clarinet,
Clarinet 1, Clarinet 2,
Clarinet 3, Contrabass
Clarinet, Euphonium,
Flute 1, Flute 2, Horn 1,
Horn 2, Horn 3, Horn 4,
Oboe 1, Oboe 2,
Percussion 1, Percussion
2, Percussion 3,
Percussion 4, Percussion
5, Piccolo, String Bass
and more. SKU:
PR.165000970 For
Band. Composed by Dan
Welcher. Folder.
Premiered by the
University of Texas
Symphony Band, Scott S.
Hanna, conductor, at
Butler School of Music,
UT/Austin, Austin, Texas.
Contemporary. Set of
Score and Parts. With
Standard notation.
Composed 14-Sep. 40
pages. Duration 7
minutes. Theodore Presser
Company #165-00097.
Published by Theodore
Presser Company
(PR.165000970). ISBN
9781491100462. UPC:
680160626717. 9x12
inches. Commissione
d by a consortium of 20
high school and
university bands
coordinated by Scott
Hanna of the University
of Texas at Austin,
Downshifting is inspired
by Welcher’s joy
of bicycle riding.
Welcher explains in the
program note: When I
decided to write a piece
for band that was
basically entertaining
and uplifting, it made
perfect sense to call it
Downshifting... With
three gears on the front
sprocket and seven on the
rear, it’s
possible to keep
one’s legs going
at a constant speed (for
me, q = 126) while the
bike itself may be moving
very slowly or very
quickly. I determined to
capitalize on this in
writing Downshifting,
which keeps the same
mathematical inner pulse,
‘shifting’
(with a ratchet) as the
terrain changes.. One
of the joys of life for
me is riding my 21-speed
bicycle. As a
basically non-athletic
person who nonetheless
likes to stay in shape, I
have found that riding my
bike provides just the
exercise I need. The
workout is strenuous, but
pleasant—and the
infinite variety of
scenery I pass keeps me
alert and wide awake.Â
When I decided to write a
piece for band that was
basically entertaining
and uplifting, it made
perfect sense to call it
Downshifting.With three
gears on the front
sprocket and seven on the
rear, it’s
possible to keep ones
legs going at a constant
speed (for me,
that’s 126 to the
quarter note) while the
bike itself may be moving
very slowly or very
quickly. I determined
to capitalize on this in
writing the music, which
manages to keep the same
mathematical inner pulse,
“shiftingâ€
(with a ratchet) as the
terrain changes. So
Downshifting begins with
that steady pulse, on a
grid of eighth notes in
2/4 to propel the little
vehicle forward.Â
There’s a joyous
little tune in our heads
as we begin our ride.Â
As the initial thrill of
riding on the flat gives
way to monotony, we stay
in that pulse for the
first minute or so of the
ride. Then, as the
first hill becomes
visible, we shift the
bike down: even though
the eighths are equal,
the pulse feels slower
(and we’re now in
6/8 time). Ultimately
the compound meter shifts
again as the climb
begins, and we’re
now plodding doggedly up
the hill. (The music
reflects all of these
changes, with subtitles
such as “Working
harder—Seeing the
climb, aheadâ€,
“Steady and
committed…the climb
begins!â€,
“Straining against
the gradeâ€,
etc.).There are two
hills, and two long
climbs (but in different
keys, reflecting the
change in scenery).Â
When at last the summit
of the second hill is
reached (“Flying,
Over the Topâ€), we
coast at last down the
other side at breakneck
speed. The initial
joyous melody returns,
but now in a spread-out
coasting pulse. At
the end of the ride, we
slow to a
stop—then take one
last sprint (shifting
five times in the
process) in order to end
on a biker’s
high.Downshifting was
commissioned by a
consortium of fourteen
high school and college
bands, overseen by my
longtime colleague at the
University of Texas,
Scott Hanna. The
piece is dedicated to him
(and to all bicycle
enthusiasts). $175.00 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 1 to 2 weeks | | |
| Premier Livre d'Orgue (1699) Orgue Ut Orpheus
Composed by Nicolas de Grigny (1672-1703). Edited by David Ponsford. Paperback...(+)
Composed by Nicolas de
Grigny
(1672-1703). Edited by
David
Ponsford. Paperback (Soft
Cover). Classical. Ut
Orpheus
#HS 280. Published by Ut
Orpheus
$56.95 - Voir plus => AcheterDélais: 3 to 4 weeks | | |
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