SKU: LO.9780834175181
ISBN 9780834175181.
This is an ideal collection for the less-experienced pianist who is seeking accessible settings of praise and worship favorites along with familiar hymns and gospel songs. Contemporary songs like I Worship You, Almighty God; Open the Eyes of My Heart and There Is None Like You are included along with standards like Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing; For the Beauty of the Earth and My Savior's Love, among others. This is Marilyn White's fifth piano publication with Lillenas.
SKU: CF.PL1056
ISBN 9781491153390. UPC: 680160910892. Transcribed by Franz Liszt.
Introduction It is true that Schubert himself is somewhat to blame for the very unsatisfactory manner in which his admirable piano pieces are treated. He was too immoderately productive, wrote incessantly, mixing insignificant with important things, grand things with mediocre work, paid no heed to criticism, and always soared on his wings. Like a bird in the air, he lived in music and sang in angelic fashion. --Franz Liszt, letter to Dr. S. Lebert (1868) Of those compositions that greatly interest me, there are only Chopin's and yours. --Franz Liszt, letter to Robert Schumann (1838) She [Clara Schumann] was astounded at hearing me. Her compositions are really very remarkable, especially for a woman. There is a hundred times more creativity and real feeling in them than in all the past and present fantasias by Thalberg. --Franz Liszt, letter to Marie d'Agoult (1838) Chretien Urhan (1790-1845) was a Belgian-born violinist, organist and composer who flourished in the musical life of Paris in the early nineteenth century. According to various accounts, he was deeply religious, harshly ascetic and wildly eccentric, though revered by many important and influential members of the Parisian musical community. Regrettably, history has forgotten Urhan's many musical achievements, the most important of which was arguably his pioneering work in promoting the music of Franz Schubert. He devoted much of his energies to championing Schubert's music, which at the time was unknown outside of Vienna. Undoubtedly, Urhan was responsible for stimulating this enthusiasm in Franz Liszt; Liszt regularly heard Urhan's organ playing in the St.-Vincent-de-Paul church in Paris, and the two became personal acquaintances. At eighteen years of age, Liszt was on the verge of establishing himself as the foremost pianist in Europe, and this awakening to Schubert's music would prove to be a profound experience. Liszt's first travels outside of his native provincial Hungary were to Vienna in 1821-1823, where his father enrolled him in studies with Carl Czerny (piano) and Antonio Salieri (music theory). Both men had important involvements with Schubert; Czerny (like Urhan) as performer and advocate of Schubert's music and Salieri as his theory and composition teacher from 1813-1817. Curiously, Liszt and Schubert never met personally, despite their geographical proximity in Vienna during these years. Inevitably, legends later arose that the two had been personal acquaintances, although Liszt would dismiss these as fallacious: I never knew Schubert personally, he was once quoted as saying. Liszt's initial exposure to Schubert's music was the Lieder, what Urhan prized most of all. He accompanied the tenor Benedict Randhartinger in numerous performances of Schubert's Lieder and then, perhaps realizing that he could benefit the composer more on his own terms, transcribed a number of the Lieder for piano solo. Many of these transcriptions he would perform himself on concert tour during the so-called Glanzzeit, or time of splendor from 1839-1847. This publicity did much to promote reception of Schubert's music throughout Europe. Once Liszt retired from the concert stage and settled in Weimar as a conductor in the 1840s, he continued to perform Schubert's orchestral music, his Symphony No. 9 being a particular favorite, and is credited with giving the world premiere performance of Schubert's opera Alfonso und Estrella in 1854. At this time, he contemplated writing a biography of the composer, which regrettably remained uncompleted. Liszt's devotion to Schubert would never waver. Liszt's relationship with Robert and Clara Schumann was far different and far more complicated; by contrast, they were all personal acquaintances. What began as a relationship of mutual respect and admiration soon deteriorated into one of jealousy and hostility, particularly on the Schumann's part. Liszt's initial contact with Robert's music happened long before they had met personally, when Liszt published an analysis of Schumann's piano music for the Gazette musicale in 1837, a gesture that earned Robert's deep appreciation. In the following year Clara met Liszt during a concert tour in Vienna and presented him with more of Schumann's piano music. Clara and her father Friedrich Wieck, who accompanied Clara on her concert tours, were quite taken by Liszt: We have heard Liszt. He can be compared to no other player...he arouses fright and astonishment. His appearance at the piano is indescribable. He is an original...he is absorbed by the piano. Liszt, too, was impressed with Clara--at first the energy, intelligence and accuracy of her piano playing and later her compositions--to the extent that he dedicated to her the 1838 version of his Etudes d'execution transcendante d'apres Paganini. Liszt had a closer personal relationship with Clara than with Robert until the two men finally met in 1840. Schumann was astounded by Liszt's piano playing. He wrote to Clara that Liszt had played like a god and had inspired indescribable furor of applause. His review of Liszt even included a heroic personification with Napoleon. In Leipzig, Schumann was deeply impressed with Liszt's interpretations of his Noveletten, Op. 21 and Fantasy in C Major, Op. 17 (dedicated to Liszt), enthusiastically observing that, I feel as if I had known you twenty years. Yet a variety of events followed that diminished Liszt's glory in the eyes of the Schumanns. They became critical of the cult-like atmosphere that arose around his recitals, or Lisztomania as it came to be called; conceivably, this could be attributed to professional jealousy. Clara, in particular, came to loathe Liszt, noting in a letter to Joseph Joachim, I despise Liszt from the depths of my soul. She recorded a stunning diary entry a day after Liszt's death, in which she noted, He was an eminent keyboard virtuoso, but a dangerous example for the young...As a composer he was terrible. By contrast, Liszt did not share in these negative sentiments; no evidence suggests that he had any ill-regard for the Schumanns. In Weimar, he did much to promote Schumann's music, conducting performances of his Scenes from Faust and Manfred, during a time in which few orchestras expressed interest, and premiered his opera Genoveva. He later arranged a benefit concert for Clara following Robert's death, featuring Clara as soloist in Robert's Piano Concerto, an event that must have been exhilarating to witness. Regardless, her opinion of him would never change, despite his repeated gestures of courtesy and respect. Liszt's relationship with Schubert was a spiritual one, with music being the one and only link between the two men. That with the Schumanns was personal, with music influenced by a hero worship that would aggravate the relationship over time. Nonetheless, Liszt would remain devoted to and enthusiastic for the music and achievements of these composers. He would be a vital force in disseminating their music to a wider audience, as he would be with many other composers throughout his career. His primary means for accomplishing this was the piano transcription. Liszt and the Transcription Transcription versus Paraphrase Transcription and paraphrase were popular terms in nineteenth-century music, although certainly not unique to this period. Musicians understood that there were clear distinctions between these two terms, but as is often the case these distinctions could be blurred. Transcription, literally writing over, entails reworking or adapting a piece of music for a performance medium different from that of its original; arrangement is a possible synonym. Adapting is a key part of this process, for the success of a transcription relies on the transcriber's ability to adapt the piece to the different medium. As a result, the pre-existing material is generally kept intact, recognizable and intelligible; it is strict, literal, objective. Contextual meaning is maintained in the process, as are elements of style and form. Paraphrase, by contrast, implies restating something in a different manner, as in a rewording of a document for reasons of clarity. In nineteenth-century music, paraphrasing indicated elaborating a piece for purposes of expressive virtuosity, often as a vehicle for showmanship. Variation is an important element, for the source material may be varied as much as the paraphraser's imagination will allow; its purpose is metamorphosis. Transcription is adapting and arranging; paraphrasing is transforming and reworking. Transcription preserves the style of the original; paraphrase absorbs the original into a different style. Transcription highlights the original composer; paraphrase highlights the paraphraser. Approximately half of Liszt's compositional output falls under the category of transcription and paraphrase; it is noteworthy that he never used the term arrangement. Much of his early compositional activities were transcriptions and paraphrases of works of other composers, such as the symphonies of Beethoven and Berlioz, vocal music by Schubert, and operas by Donizetti and Bellini. It is conceivable that he focused so intently on work of this nature early in his career as a means to perfect his compositional technique, although transcription and paraphrase continued well after the technique had been mastered; this might explain why he drastically revised and rewrote many of his original compositions from the 1830s (such as the Transcendental Etudes and Paganini Etudes) in the 1850s. Charles Rosen, a sympathetic interpreter of Liszt's piano works, observes, The new revisions of the Transcendental Etudes are not revisions but concert paraphrases of the old, and their art lies in the technique of transformation. The Paganini etudes are piano transcriptions of violin etudes, and the Transcendental Etudes are piano transcriptions of piano etudes. The principles are the same. He concludes by noting, Paraphrase has shaded off into composition...Composition and paraphrase were not identical for him, but they were so closely interwoven that separation is impossible. The significance of transcription and paraphrase for Liszt the composer cannot be overstated, and the mutual influence of each needs to be better understood. Undoubtedly, Liszt the composer as we know him today would be far different had he not devoted so much of his career to transcribing and paraphrasing the music of others. He was perhaps one of the first composers to contend that transcription and paraphrase could be genuine art forms on equal par with original pieces; he even claimed to be the first to use these two terms to describe these classes of arrangements. Despite the success that Liszt achieved with this type of work, others viewed it with circumspection and criticism. Robert Schumann, although deeply impressed with Liszt's keyboard virtuosity, was harsh in his criticisms of the transcriptions. Schumann interpreted them as indicators that Liszt's virtuosity had hindered his compositional development and suggested that Liszt transcribed the music of others to compensate for his own compositional deficiencies. Nonetheless, Liszt's piano transcriptions, what he sometimes called partitions de piano (or piano scores), were instrumental in promoting composers whose music was unknown at the time or inaccessible in areas outside of major European capitals, areas that Liszt willingly toured during his Glanzzeit. To this end, the transcriptions had to be literal arrangements for the piano; a Beethoven symphony could not be introduced to an unknowing audience if its music had been subjected to imaginative elaborations and variations. The same would be true of the 1833 transcription of Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique (composed only three years earlier), the astonishingly novel content of which would necessitate a literal and intelligible rendering. Opera, usually more popular and accessible for the general public, was a different matter, and in this realm Liszt could paraphrase the original and manipulate it as his imagination would allow without jeopardizing its reception; hence, the paraphrases on the operas of Bellini, Donizetti, Mozart, Meyerbeer and Verdi. Reminiscence was another term coined by Liszt for the opera paraphrases, as if the composer were reminiscing at the keyboard following a memorable evening at the opera. Illustration (reserved on two occasions for Meyerbeer) and fantasy were additional terms. The operas of Wagner were exceptions. His music was less suited to paraphrase due to its general lack of familiarity at the time. Transcription of Wagner's music was thus obligatory, as it was of Beethoven's and Berlioz's music; perhaps the composer himself insisted on this approach. Liszt's Lieder Transcriptions Liszt's initial encounters with Schubert's music, as mentioned previously, were with the Lieder. His first transcription of a Schubert Lied was Die Rose in 1833, followed by Lob der Tranen in 1837. Thirty-nine additional transcriptions appeared at a rapid pace over the following three years, and in 1846, the Schubert Lieder transcriptions would conclude, by which point he had completed fifty-eight, the most of any composer. Critical response to these transcriptions was highly favorable--aside from the view held by Schumann--particularly when Liszt himself played these pieces in concert. Some were published immediately by Anton Diabelli, famous for the theme that inspired Beethoven's variations. Others were published by the Viennese publisher Tobias Haslinger (one of Beethoven's and Schubert's publishers in the 1820s), who sold his reserves so quickly that he would repeatedly plead for more. However, Liszt's enthusiasm for work of this nature soon became exhausted, as he noted in a letter of 1839 to the publisher Breitkopf und Hartel: That good Haslinger overwhelms me with Schubert. I have just sent him twenty-four new songs (Schwanengesang and Winterreise), and for the moment I am rather tired of this work. Haslinger was justified in his demands, for the Schubert transcriptions were received with great enthusiasm. One Gottfried Wilhelm Fink, then editor of the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, observed of these transcriptions: Nothing in recent memory has caused such sensation and enjoyment in both pianists and audiences as these arrangements...The demand for them has in no way been satisfied; and it will not be until these arrangements are seen on pianos everywhere. They have indeed made quite a splash. Eduard Hanslick, never a sympathetic critic of Liszt's music, acknowledged thirty years after the fact that, Liszt's transcriptions of Schubert Lieder were epoch-making. There was hardly a concert in which Liszt did not have to play one or two of them--even when they were not listed on the program. These transcriptions quickly became some of his most sough-after pieces, despite their extreme technical demands. Leading pianists of the day, such as Clara Wieck and Sigismond Thalberg, incorporated them into their concert programs immediately upon publication. Moreover, the transcriptions would serve as inspirations for other composers, such as Stephen Heller, Cesar Franck and later Leopold Godowsky, all of whom produced their own transcriptions of Schubert's Lieder. Liszt would transcribe the Lieder of other composers as well, including those by Mendelssohn, Chopin, Anton Rubinstein and even himself. Robert Schumann, of course, would not be ignored. The first transcription of a Schumann Lied was the celebrated Widmung from Myrten in 1848, the only Schumann transcription that Liszt completed during the composer's lifetime. (Regrettably, there is no evidence of Schumann's regard of this transcription, or even if he was aware of it.) From the years 1848-1881, Liszt transcribed twelve of Robert Schumann's Lieder (including one orchestral Lied) and three of Clara (one from each of her three published Lieder cycles); he would transcribe no other works of these two composers. The Schumann Lieder transcriptions, contrary to those of Schubert, are literal arrangements, posing, in general, far fewer demands on the pianist's technique. They are comparatively less imaginative in their treatment of the original material. Additionally, they seem to have been less valued in their day than the Schubert transcriptions, and it is noteworthy that none of the Schumann transcriptions bear dedications, as most of the Schubert transcriptions do. The greatest challenge posed by Lieder transcriptions, regardless of the composer or the nature of the transcription, was to combine the vocal and piano parts of the original such that the character of each would be preserved, a challenge unique to this form of transcription. Each part had to be intact and aurally recognizable, the vocal line in particular. Complications could be manifold in a Lied that featured dissimilar parts, such as Schubert's Auf dem Wasser zu singen, whose piano accompaniment depicts the rocking of the boat on the shimmering waves while the vocal line reflects on the passing of time. Similar complications would be encountered in Gretchen am Spinnrade, in which the ubiquitous sixteenth-note pattern in the piano's right hand epitomizes the ever-turning spinning wheel over which the soprano voice expresses feelings of longing and heartache. The resulting transcriptions for solo piano would place exceptional demands on the pianist. The complications would be far less imposing in instances in which voice and piano were less differentiated, as in many of Schumann's Lieder that Liszt transcribed. The piano parts in these Lieder are true accompaniments for the voice, providing harmonic foundation and rhythmic support by doubling the vocal line throughout. The transcriptions, thus, are strict and literal, with far fewer demands on both pianist and transcriber. In all of Liszt's Lieder transcriptions, regardless of the way in which the two parts are combined, the melody (i.e. the vocal line) is invariably the focal point; the melody should sing on the piano, as if it were the voice. The piano part, although integral to contributing to the character of the music, is designed to function as accompaniment. A singing melody was a crucial objective in nineteenth-century piano performance, which in part might explain the zeal in transcribing and paraphrasing vocal music for the piano. Friedrich Wieck, father and teacher of Clara Schumann, stressed this point repeatedly in his 1853 treatise Clavier und Gesang (Piano and Song): When I speak in general of singing, I refer to that species of singing which is a form of beauty, and which is a foundation for the most refined and most perfect interpretation of music; and, above all things, I consider the culture of beautiful tones the basis for the finest possible touch on the piano. In many respects, the piano and singing should explain and supplement each other. They should mutually assist in expressing the sublime and the noble, in forms of unclouded beauty. Much of Liszt's piano music should be interpreted with this concept in mind, the Lieder transcriptions and opera paraphrases, in particular. To this end, Liszt provided numerous written instructions to the performer to emphasize the vocal line in performance, with Italian directives such as un poco marcato il canto, accentuato assai il canto and ben pronunziato il canto. Repeated indications of cantando,singend and espressivo il canto stress the significance of the singing tone. As an additional means of achieving this and providing the performer with access to the poetry, Liszt insisted, at what must have been a publishing novelty at the time, on printing the words of the Lied in the music itself. Haslinger, seemingly oblivious to Liszt's intent, initially printed the poems of the early Schubert transcriptions separately inside the front covers. Liszt argued that the transcriptions must be reprinted with the words underlying the notes, exactly as Schubert had done, a request that was honored by printing the words above the right-hand staff. Liszt also incorporated a visual scheme for distinguishing voice and accompaniment, influenced perhaps by Chopin, by notating the accompaniment in cue size. His transcription of Robert Schumann's Fruhlings Ankunft features the vocal line in normal size, the piano accompaniment in reduced size, an unmistakable guide in a busy texture as to which part should be emphasized: Example 1. Schumann-Liszt Fruhlings Ankunft, mm. 1-2. The same practice may be found in the transcription of Schumann's An die Turen will ich schleichen. In this piece, the performer must read three staves, in which the baritone line in the central staff is to be shared between the two hands based on the stem direction of the notes: Example 2. Schumann-Liszt An die Turen will ich schleichen, mm. 1-5. This notational practice is extremely beneficial in this instance, given the challenge of reading three staves and the manner in which the vocal line is performed by the two hands. Curiously, Liszt did not use this practice in other transcriptions. Approaches in Lieder Transcription Liszt adopted a variety of approaches in his Lieder transcriptions, based on the nature of the source material, the ways in which the vocal and piano parts could be combined and the ways in which the vocal part could sing. One approach, common with strophic Lieder, in which the vocal line would be identical in each verse, was to vary the register of the vocal part. The transcription of Lob der Tranen, for example, incorporates three of the four verses of the original Lied, with the register of the vocal line ascending one octave with each verse (from low to high), as if three different voices were participating. By the conclusion, the music encompasses the entire range of Liszt's keyboard to produce a stunning climactic effect, and the variety of register of the vocal line provides a welcome textural variety in the absence of the words. The three verses of the transcription of Auf dem Wasser zu singen follow the same approach, in which the vocal line ascends from the tenor, to the alto and to the soprano registers with each verse. Fruhlingsglaube adopts the opposite approach, in which the vocal line descends from soprano in verse 1 to tenor in verse 2, with the second part of verse 2 again resuming the soprano register; this is also the case in Das Wandern from Mullerlieder. Gretchen am Spinnrade posed a unique problem. Since the poem's narrator is female, and the poem represents an expression of her longing for her lover Faust, variation of the vocal line's register, strictly speaking, would have been impractical. For this reason, the vocal line remains in its original register throughout, relentlessly colliding with the sixteenth-note pattern of the accompaniment. One exception may be found in the fifth and final verse in mm. 93-112, at which point the vocal line is notated in a higher register and doubled in octaves. This sudden textural change, one that is readily audible, was a strategic means to underscore Gretchen's mounting anxiety (My bosom urges itself toward him. Ah, might I grasp and hold him! And kiss him as I would wish, at his kisses I should die!). The transcription, thus, becomes a vehicle for maximizing the emotional content of the poem, an exceptional undertaking with the general intent of a transcription. Registral variation of the vocal part also plays a crucial role in the transcription of Erlkonig. Goethe's poem depicts the death of a child who is apprehended by a supernatural Erlking, and Schubert, recognizing the dramatic nature of the poem, carefully depicted the characters (father, son and Erlking) through unique vocal writing and accompaniment patterns: the Lied is a dramatic entity. Liszt, in turn, followed Schubert's characterization in this literal transcription, yet took it an additional step by placing the register of the father's vocal line in the baritone range, that of the son in the soprano range and that of the Erlking in the highest register, options that would not have been available in the version for voice and piano. Additionally, Liszt labeled each appearance of each character in the score, a means for guiding the performer in interpreting the dramatic qualities of the Lied. As a result, the drama and energy of the poem are enhanced in this transcription; as with Gretchen am Spinnrade, the transcriber has maximized the content of the original. Elaboration may be found in certain Lieder transcriptions that expand the performance to a level of virtuosity not found in the original; in such cases, the transcription approximates the paraphrase. Schubert's Du bist die Ruh, a paradigm of musical simplicity, features an uncomplicated piano accompaniment that is virtually identical in each verse. In Liszt's transcription, the material is subjected to a highly virtuosic treatment that far exceeds the original, including a demanding passage for the left hand alone in the opening measures and unique textural writing in each verse. The piece is a transcription in virtuosity; its art, as Rosen noted, lies in the technique of transformation. Elaboration may entail an expansion of the musical form, as in the extensive introduction to Die Forelle and a virtuosic middle section (mm. 63-85), both of which are not in the original. Also unique to this transcription are two cadenzas that Liszt composed in response to the poetic content. The first, in m. 93 on the words und eh ich es gedacht (and before I could guess it), features a twisted chromatic passage that prolongs and thereby heightens the listener's suspense as to the fate of the trout (which is ultimately caught). The second, in m. 108 on the words Betrogne an (and my blood boiled as I saw the betrayed one), features a rush of diminished-seventh arpeggios in both hands, epitomizing the poet's rage at the fisherman for catching the trout. Less frequent are instances in which the length of the original Lied was shortened in the transcription, a tendency that may be found with certain strophic Lieder (e.g., Der Leiermann, Wasserflut and Das Wandern). Another transcription that demonstrates Liszt's readiness to modify the original in the interests of the poetic content is Standchen, the seventh transcription from Schubert's Schwanengesang. Adapted from Act II of Shakespeare's Cymbeline, the poem represents the repeated beckoning of a man to his lover. Liszt transformed the Lied into a miniature drama by transcribing the vocal line of the first verse in the soprano register, that of the second verse in the baritone register, in effect, creating a dialogue between the two lovers. In mm. 71-102, the dialogue becomes a canon, with one voice trailing the other like an echo (as labeled in the score) at the distance of a beat. As in other instances, the transcription resembles the paraphrase, and it is perhaps for this reason that Liszt provided an ossia version that is more in the nature of a literal transcription. The ossia version, six measures shorter than Schubert's original, is less demanding technically than the original transcription, thus representing an ossia of transcription and an ossia of piano technique. The Schumann Lieder transcriptions, in general, display a less imaginative treatment of the source material. Elaborations are less frequently encountered, and virtuosity is more restricted, as if the passage of time had somewhat tamed the composer's approach to transcriptions; alternatively, Liszt was eager to distance himself from the fierce virtuosity of his early years. In most instances, these transcriptions are literal arrangements of the source material, with the vocal line in its original form combined with the accompaniment, which often doubles the vocal line in the original Lied. Widmung, the first of the Schumann transcriptions, is one exception in the way it recalls the virtuosity of the Schubert transcriptions of the 1830s. Particularly striking is the closing section (mm. 58-73), in which material of the opening verse (right hand) is combined with the triplet quarter notes (left hand) from the second section of the Lied (mm. 32-43), as if the transcriber were attempting to reconcile the different material of these two sections. Fruhlingsnacht resembles a paraphrase by presenting each of the two verses in differing registers (alto for verse 1, mm. 3-19, and soprano for verse 2, mm. 20-31) and by concluding with a virtuosic section that considerably extends the length of the original Lied. The original tonalities of the Lieder were generally retained in the transcriptions, showing that the tonality was an important part of the transcription process. The infrequent instances of transposition were done for specific reasons. In 1861, Liszt transcribed two of Schumann's Lieder, one from Op. 36 (An den Sonnenschein), another from Op. 27 (Dem roten Roslein), and merged these two pieces in the collection 2 Lieder; they share only the common tonality of A major. His choice for combining these two Lieder remains unknown, but he clearly recognized that some tonal variety would be needed, for which reason Dem roten Roslein was transposed to C>= major. The collection features An den Sonnenschein in A major (with a transition to the new tonality), followed by Dem roten Roslein in C>= major (without a change of key signature), and concluding with a reprise of An den Sonnenschein in A major. A three-part form was thus established with tonal variety provided by keys in third relations (A-C>=-A); in effect, two of Schumann's Lieder were transcribed into an archetypal song without words. In other instances, Liszt treated tonality and tonal organization as important structural ingredients, particularly in the transcriptions of Schubert's Lieder cycles, i.e. Schwanengesang, Winterreise a...
SKU: JK.60120
John 13:15, 34*** Some Janice Kapp Perry products may require a few days additional shipping time. Thank you!
Janice Kapp Perry piano solos collection, arranged by Marvin Goldstein, ranging from medium-easy to medium in difficulty.Songs included in this volume: A Child's Prayer The Voice of the Spirit Born of Water, Born of Spirit I'm Trying to Be Like Jesus Well Done, Thou Good and Faithful Servant Just One Little Light In the Arms of His Love The Church of Jesus Christ I Am of Infinite Worth Mother, Tell Me the Story Where Is Heaven?Composer: Janice Kapp Perry Arranger: Marvin Goldstein Difficulty: Medium-easy to mediumReference: John 13:15, 34*** Some Janice Kapp Perry products may require a few days additional shipping time. Thank you!
SKU: PR.110418370
ISBN 9781491135075. UPC: 680160686247.
Composed as an organ solo by the 17-year-old Ives for his own performance purposes, the beloved Variations on America is a treat for any occasion, whether a holiday concert, a serious recital, or other special event. Danny Holt’s transcription for Piano, Four Hands adds a dazzling new option to play at home or on stage, taking best advantage of Ives’ tremendous contrasts in color, dynamics, and texture.Composed when Charles Ives was a teenager, Variations on “America†is both a convenient introduction to Ives’ body of work, and an early example of his iconoclastic musical voice and creative genius. Just a few years after composing this piece, Ives would leave home to study music at Yale. But until then he had been taught by his father, George (who had been a bandmaster in the Civil War). George subjected the young Ives to experiments such as singing a song in one key while being accompanied in another, or arranging for two marching bands to converge on a town center, with the resulting cacophony that ensued.The Variations exemplifies an early period of experimentation in Ives’ work, spurred on by the unusual pedagogy of his father. The piece is particularly notable for its use of bitonality in the two interludes, subtly foreshadowing more well-known examples by Stravinsky, Bartók, and others by approximately two decades.The bitonal interludes were so ahead of their time, in fact, they were omitted from the first copy that was submitted to a publisher in 1892. (Alas, the piece was rejected even despite these “shocking†elements having been left out, and it wasn’t published until more than five decades later.) There is some ambiguity about when exactly Ives added the interludes into his manuscript copy, though ample evidence suggests he had performed the piece with the interludes around the time he notated the piece in 1891-92. In any case, in light of this piece and his other polytonal explorations from the last decade of the 19th century, it seems fair to give Ives credit for being a pioneer in this area!This arrangement for Piano, Four Hands, closely follows Ives’ original version for organ, setting aside William Schuman’s popular adaptation for symphony orchestra and William Rhoads’ band transcription of the Schuman orchestration. Pianists will find that the piece translates well to the instrument. Ideally, the choreography and logistics of elbow-to-elbow four-hands playing approximates the wild joy one gets from watching an organist play the piece (e.g., the elaborate pedal part in the final variation).In preparing this publication, attention was paid to details in the dual Critical Editions (Presser 443-41003) of both Ives’ manuscript edition and the 1949 publication edited by organist E. Power Biggs (who is credited with discovering what had been a long-lost, forgotten work.) But as with much of Ives’ output, attempting to create a true ‘urtext’ score is a futile endeavor, and especially with a piece such as this one – in which Ives incorporated improvisation in live performance – seems unnecessary anyhow. True die-hards are of course encouraged to consult the critical editions and even find inspiration in the orchestrated version. Generally, performers are advised to be wild, have fun, and not to be too rigid in their interpretive choices.Dynamics in this arrangement mostly follow the organ score closely. Pianists will use good judgment about pedaling throughout, which should be straightforward and intuitive. Courtesy accidentals have been provided frequently – without parentheses – balancing the need for extra clarity in the context of Ives’ murky musical language, and a desire to avoid unnecessary clutter.A few notes that might inform interpretive decisions:mm. 15-16: There are inconsistencies here between Ives’ original manuscript and the 1949 Biggs edition, regarding the top voice in m. 15, beat 3 (C# vs. Cn) and m. 16 (D Major vs. D Minor).mm. 76-84 & 143-146: In both Interludes, Ives emphatically notates extreme dynamic contrast, in order to highlight the bitonality. Although it may seem counterintuitive (or even a misprint, as has apparently been misconstrued by some), performers are urged to follow the composer’s marking!m. 109: Two-note slurs have been added here for clarity and consistency with other similar passages, though they do not appear in either the original manuscript or Biggs.m. 112: The last two eighth notes of Primo appear as 16ths in the original manuscript.mm. 183-186: The original manuscript has a slightly different bass line.mm. 184 & 186: Primo gestures have been re-written to be slightly more idiomatic for Piano, Four Hands.m. 186: The breath mark at the end of this bar does not appear in either the manuscript or Biggs, but is an editorial suggestion – aside from being appropriately dramatic, it will indeed be necessary in a reverberant hall!I would like to thank Steven Vanhauwaert, the other half of my piano duo, 4handsLA, for his input on early drafts of this arrangement.— Danny Holt, April 2022.
SKU: BO.B.3585
Agitato: This is a movement with a clear romantic intention, as well as passionate. It is like a projection of different colors in an atmosphere of lightness. In this case I probably had Mendelssohn in the back of my mind. Everything in it is extroverted. Vigor and gentleness alternate until reaching the end, where I make a clear allusion to the music of Bach. The movement ends in a fast arpeggio.Capriccio: This part has a humorous touch to it. An evidently burlesque subject matter matches the various rhythmic and harmonic combinations. I do not wish to conceal a similarity of style with the music of Prokofiev. As a reminder, my Sonatina for violin solo comes from an idea taken from this Russian master's Sonata, also for violin solo. The mood is marcato and sharp, alternating expressive moments with others of a mysterious nature. To end up with, a fast and lively coda.Ricordo: It has a burlesque introduction, but this serves as a preamble to the expressive nature of the whole. There are several emotional atmospheres in which harmony plays an essential part. The left hand will be responsible for the melody while the right hand constantly draws semiquavers all in a reflexive mood. In the end, the music fades away gently.Animato: This movement brings us back to the extroverted mood of the Agitato. It transitions from an impressionistic atmosphere at the beginning, to a vigorous and energetic climate. Groups of 4, 5 and 6 notes with semiquavers cause certain instability, controlled, on the other hand, by an unchanging tempo. The movement ends in a forceful marcato, though in an overall maestoso atmosphere.
SKU: AP.36-M181291
UPC: 660355185809. English.
Maurice Ravel (1875-1937) wrote the first of his CINQ MÉLODIES POPULAIRES GRECQUES (Five Greek Folk Melodies) in 1904 at the urgent request of Pierre Aubry, who wished to illustrate a lecture he was giving on Greek folksong. Initially given five folksongs from which to choose, Ravel supplied a piano accompaniment for them in only thirty-six hours. Having impressed those who supplied the original five, three more were produced, which Ravel also quickly set to piano accompaniment, in a style imitative of the Mediterranean lands, but remaining distinctly French in its execution. The five melodies in this collection were selected from those eight. Ravel had started orchestrating all five as well, completing two, leaving Manuel Rosenthal to complete the remaining three. Songs in the collection: I. Le Réveil de la Mariée (Wake Up, My Dear), II. Là -bas, vers l'église (Out There, Where the Church Tower), III. Quel galant m'est comparable (Which Gallant Can Compare With Me?), IV. Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques (Song of the Lentisk Gatherers), and V. Tout gai! (Be Gay!). The Ravel/Rosenthal orchestrations have been edited by Clinton Nieweg in an edition available from E.F. Kalmus.
These products are currently being prepared by a new publisher. While many items are ready and will ship on time, some others may see delays of several months.
SKU: BT.EMBZ15000N
English-Hungarian.
In the autumn of 1974 György Kurtág began to copy selected pieces from the series Games into a music notebook for Zoltán Kocsis who was his student in earlier years and who, throughout his entire life, was one of its most authentic performers. Kocsis played from this notebook in the first public performance of Games in 1974. The gradually expanding series of piano pieces also appeared in print in the course of later decades however, he always used this collection - expanded over 32 years since by Kurtág - whenever he played pieces from Games in concert. Since the time of this 1974 concert, as Kocsis wrote later: ''I didn't know that the spiral notebook I received at thepremiere would later become, as it were, my permanent companion. That I would take it with me from Japan to Canada, from Australia to Iceland, travelling to the world's most prominent concert halls, surviving fire damage, flood, transport catastrophes, theft attempts, forced landings and so on, and that - well beyond the intention of its being 'copied with love' - it would include works and sketches for which this notebook would become the principal source.''The manuscript gives a glimpse into Kurtág's workshop from the viewpoint of both performers and musicologists. The former can understand more from Kurtág's handwriting about the composer's intentions than from the printed score. The musicologists, however, can study the historical origins of the works: some works can be found here in more than one version, others appear in a version different from the printed score.The publication is accompanied by a booklet and a CD supplement. The booklet contains Kocsis's own personal preface, as well as András Wilheim's essay providing information about the collection and the pieces contained therein. On the CD we hear 11 works performed by Kocsis, from a recording made in 1982 which has not previously been commercially issued.
SKU: HL.50600649
ISBN 9790080150009. UPC: 888680895518. 10.25x13.5x0.622 inches. Hungarian, English. Gyorgy Kurtag.
In the autumn of 1974 György Kurtág began to copy selected pieces from the series Games into a music notebook for Zoltán Kocsis who had been his student in earlier years and who, even today, is one of its most authentic performers. Kocsis played from this notebook in the first public performance of Games in 1974. The gradually expanding series of piano pieces also appeared in print in the course of later decades; however, since then he has used this collection - expanded over 32 years since by Kurtág - whenever he plays pieces from Games in concert. Since the time of this 1974 concert, as he writes: 'I didn't know that the spiral notebook I received at the premiere would later become, as it were, my permanent companion. That I would take it with me from Japan to Canada, from Australia to Iceland, travelling to the world's most prominent concert halls, surviving fire damage, flood, transport catastrophes, theft attempts, forced landings and so on, and that - well beyond the intention of its being 'copied with love' - it would include works and sketches for which this notebook would become the principal source.' The manuscript gives a glimpse into Kurtág's workshop from the viewpoint of both performers and musicologists. The former can understand more from Kurtág's handwriting about the composer's intentions than from the printed score. The musicologists, however, can study the historical origins of the works: some works can be found here in more than one version, others appear in a version different from the printed score. The publication is accompanied by a booklet and a CD supplement. The booklet contains Kocsis's own personal preface, as well as András Wilheim's essay providing information about the collection and the pieces contained therein. On the CD we hear 11 works performed by Kocsis, from a recording made in 1982 which has not previously been commercially issued.
SKU: M7.DUX-962
ISBN 9783868493351.
Songs - found and written on the road. World music in the style of the globe-touring band Quadro Nuevo. Their bags full of tunes, picked up here and there, yesterday and today. In addition to original compositions such as 'Mocca Swing', 'Giovanni Tranquillo' and 'Ikarus Dream', there are classics like 'Parole Parole', 'Miserlou', 'Für mich soll's rote Rosen regnen' ('Let it rain red roses for me') and many others. Newly arranged for piano, varying in their level from easy to moderately difficult.
SKU: M7.DUX-961
ISBN 9783868493344.
SKU: HL.49005024
ISBN 9781495000713. UPC: 888680028183.
Selected Art Songs by prominent American composers in the G. Schirmer and AMP catalog, including songs by Samuel Barber, John Duke, Lee Hoiby, Charles Ives, John Jacob Niles, William Schuman, and others.
Selected art songs by prominent American composers in the G. Schirmer and AMP catalog, including songs by Samuel Barber, John Duke, Lee Hoiby, Charles Ives, John Jacob Niles, William Schuman, and others.
Includes worksfrom Ernst Bacon: It's all I have to bring * Samuel Barber: The Crucifixion; The Daisies; Hey nonny no!; The Monk and His Cat; Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; A Slumber Song of the Madonna; Sure on this shiningnight * Paul Bowles: Cabin; Heavenly Grass; Sugar in the Cane * Theodore Chanler: The Lamb * Ernest Charles: When I Have Sung My Songs * John Duke: Loveliest of Trees; Richard Hageman: Do not go, mylove * Lee Hoiby: Where the Music Comes From * Carles Ives: In the mornin'; Serenity * Herbert Kingsley: The Green Dog * Charles Naginski: The Pasture * John Jacob Niles: Black is thecolor of my true love's hair; Go 'way from my window; The Lass from the Low Countree * Gladys Rich: American Lullaby * William Roy: This Little Rose * John Sacco: Brother Will, Brother John *William Schuman: Holiday Song; Orpheus with his lute.
SKU: BR.EB-8835
Jussim takes us to cities that have become famous through their music, or, more precisely, through their rhythms.
ISBN 9790004183991. 9 x 12 inches.
Many cities around the world are celebrated for their unique beauty, their breathtaking sights or their historical significance. These elements also often go hand in hand. What is much less frequent is to showcase a city from the perspective of its music. This is precisely the path taken here by Stadte und Rhythmen on its journey to cities that have become famous through their music, or, more precisely, through their rhythms, and from where dances such as the polka, the waltz, the tarantella and others began their triumphant march through music history. Igor Jussim, known for his Blues Collection (EB 8718), fashions the pieces in Stadte und Rhythmen after characteristic patterns. He highlights the selected rhythms in a musical idiom and form that encourage the players access to these rhythms. Igor Jussim livre des morceaux originaux qui ne manquent pas de dynamisme. (Pianiste)Jussim takes us to cities that have become famous through their music, or, more precisely, through their rhythms.
SKU: HL.233151
ISBN 9788759886427. 10.0x14.5 inches. English.
Piano solo part for Paganini Variations - Piano Concerto No.3 by Poul Ruders (2014). Score available: WH32201 Programme note: In 1999 my friend, American guitar virtuoso David Starobin, wanted me to write a concerto for guitar and orchestra. It quickly dawned on me, that this commission presented a golden opportunity to contribute to the time-honoured tradition of composing a series of variations on Nicolo Paganini's famous 24th Caprice for violin solo, a work which itself is a set of variations. The 16 bar (with the first 4 bars repeated) theme is not particularly sophisticated or intricate, but its inherent simplicity and logic just grow on you, almost to the point ofdistraction - and the secret behind it being hauled through the wringer by composers as disparate as Liszt, Brahms, Rachmaninoff and Lutoslawski is perhaps found in its - what I'll call, with a quick nervous look over my shoulder: brilliant banality. You can do anything with that tune, it'll always be recognizable and just there, however much you maul it. The piece (subtitled Guitar Concerto no 2) was written pretty quickly, premiered and subsequently recorded for Bridge Records with David and the Odense Symphony Orchestra conducted by Jan Wagner, and everybody was happy. But the story didn't end there, and it must be the ultimate proof of the durability of the theme, not to mention the flexibility and far-sightedness of David Starobin , when he 14 years later suggested why not transcribe the solo part for piano?. The idea appealed to me immediately. One thing was clear from the beginning: the new version could in no way sound like a transcription. My aim was to end up with a solo-part sounding like were it the one-and-only, the real thing, if you like. The orchestral score remains exactly the same in both cases. Both versions, the two Paganini Variations, are comparable to a set of twins, not quite identical, but almost. And both each others's equal. Poul Ruders.
SKU: BT.EMBZ20017A
English-German-Hungarian.
In 1845 Franz Liszt embarked on a project to compose an Italian opera based on Lord Byron’s tragedy, Sardanapalus (1821). It was central to his ambition to attain status as a major European composer, with premieres variously planned for Milan, Vienna, Paris and London. But he abandoned it half way through, and the music he completed has lain silently for 170 years. Liszt’s difficulty in obtaining a libretto meant that composition only began in April 1850. He completed virtually all the music for Act 1 in an annotated piano-vocal score of 111 pages, contained within his N4 music ‘sketch book’. The unnamed librettist was an Italian poet and political prisoner, seemingly living under house arrest, and a close acquaintance of Cristina Belgiojoso. His libretto survives as underlay in the N4 sketchbook and has been critically reconstructed and translated. Sardanapalo is Liszt’s only mature opera. While he consistently referred to it in French, as Sardanapale, the published title of the Italian opera would almost certainly have used the Italian name, hence this forms the title of the first edition. There are three solo roles and a chorus of concubines. The manuscript was previously thought to be fragmentary and partially illegible, but it was finally deciphered to international acclaim in March 2017. Liszt’s score offers a richly melodic style, with elements from Bellini and Verdi alongside glimmers of Wagner and the symphonic poems ahead: a unique mixture of Italianate pastiche and mid-century harmonic innovation. It remains quintessentially Lisztian. The opera sets Byron’s tragedy about war and peace in ancient Assyria: the last King, effeminate in his tastes, is drawn to wine, concubines and feasts more than politics and war: his subjects find him dishonourable (a ‘man queen’) and military rebels seek to overthrow him, but are pardoned, for the King rejects the ‘deceit of glory’ built on others’ suffering: this leads only to a larger uprising, the Euphrates floods its banks, destroying the castle’s main defensive wall, and defeat is inevitable: the King sends his family away and orders that he be burned alive with his lover, amid scents and spices in a grand inferno. As Byron put it: ‘not a mere pillar formed of cloud and flame, but a light to lessen ages.’ For his part, Liszt told a friend that his finale ‘will even aim to set fire to the entire audience!’ This critical edition includes a detailed study on the genesis of Liszt’s Sardanapalo in English, German, and Hungarian, the libretto in the original Italian as well as in English, German, and Hungarian translation, several facsimile pages of Liszt’s manuscript, and a detailed Critical Report.
SKU: FA.MFCD017B
8.27 x 11.69 inches.
Contains Le Roi Lear: Prelude,Premiere Fanfare, and La Mort de Cordelia,Toomai des elephants, Rodrigue et Chimene: Prelude a l'acte 1p. Le Martyre de Saint Sebastien: La Passion , and No-ja-li ou Le Palais du SilenceFrom Robert Orledge's notes:My interest in the wonderful music of Claude Debussy began in the 1980s when I researched and published a book with Cambridge University Press entitled Debussy and the Theatre. During the course of my studies in Paris, I was amazed to discover that Debussy planned over 50 theatrical works but only finished two of these entirely by himself (the opera Pelleas et Melisande in 1893-1902 and the ballet Jeux for Diaghilev's Ballets Russes in 1912-13). Of the rest, many were never started musically (like Siddartha and Orphee-roi with the Oriental scholar Victor Segalen, 1907); some had a few tantalising sketches (like the Edgar Allan Poe opera Le Diable dans le beffroi, 1902-03); some were half-finished (like his other Poe opera La Chute de la Maison Usher, 1908-17); while others were musically complete but had their orchestrations completed by other composers (like Khamma, by Charles Koechlin, 1912-13; or Le Martyre de Saint Sebastien and La Boite a joujoux by his 'angel of corrections' ['l'ange des Corrections'] Andre Caplet in 1911 and 1919 respectively).For it has to be admitted that what some scholars call Debussy's 'compulsive achievement' could equally well be viewed as laziness, especially as far as the minute detail required for calligraphing his orchestral scores was concerned. It was as if creating the music itself was of greater importance than controlling its final sound, even if Debussy was an imaginative orchestrator when he found the time and energy to do it. It also seems true that Debussy also preferred inventing ideas to turning them into complete pieces. However, despite the lack of detail in many of his sketches (missing clefs, key signatures, dynamics, phrasing, etc.) the notes themselves are surprisingly accurate, whether or not they can be compared with a later draft. Thus, a large number of sketches exist for his Chinese ballet No-ja-li ou Le Palais du Silence and it is not too difficult to see which parts of Georges de Feure's 1913 scenario (see below) inspired which ideas. But Debussy hardly made any attempt to join them together after the first few bars.It was usually up to his publisher, Jacques Durand, to find solutions when Debussy risked a breach of contract. Debussy was supposed to supervise the orchestrations completed by others, but this supervision was usually very light and restricted to quiet, sensitive moments in which problems were easier to spot. Far from jealously guarding every one of his created notes, as Ravel did, Debussy once even went as far as to ask Koechlin to 'write a ballet for him that he would sign' on 26 March 1914 when he was hard-pressed to fulfil his lucrative contract for No-ja-li with Andre Charlot at the Alhambra Theatre in London. In the end, Debussy (through Durand) sent Charlot the symphonic suite Printemps instead, whose orchestration had been completed by Henri Busser in the Spring of 1912.So, when I was offered early retirement as Professor of Music at Liverpool University in 2004, I seized the opportunity it would give me to spend time trying to reconstruct some of Debussy's lost potential masterpieces from his existing sketches and drafts--then orchestrating them in Debussy's style when this was appropriate. I had begun this mission in 2001 with the most promising project, the missing parts of Scene 2 of La Chute de la Maison Usher and the sheer joy it gave me at every stage persuaded me to tackle other projects, especially when Debussy experts were unable to identify exactly where I took over from Debussy (and vice versa) in Usher.