Call Center

SKU: MN.50-3418

UPC: 688670534188. English.

A setting based on the tune JEFFERSON that can be used throughout the church year, but is particularly appropriate for the Sundays in Epiphany that center on the call to discipleship.

SKU: KN.41846S

UPC: 822795418460.

In this swinging celebration of the great call-and-response tradition, the featured soloist (any instrument) makes a statement and the ensemble answers. Later they switch roles, making this very easy chart fun for everyone. Written or ad lib solos are included for all. Duration 4:24. Available in SmartMusic.

SKU: KN.41846

UPC: 822795418460.

In this swinging celebration of the great call-and-response tradition, the featured soloist (any instrument) makes a statement and the ensemble answers. Later they switch roles, making this very easy chart fun for everyone. Written or ad lib solos are included for all. Duration 4:24. Available in SmartMusic.

SKU: CF.CM9713

ISBN 9781491160084. UPC: 680160918683. Key: G major. English. Robert Bode. Original.

The piece was commissioned by Kevin Scully, Director of Creative Arts, for the Port Washington School District, New York, with special thanks to the Ed Foundation and HEARTS for their unwavering support. Performance Notes This lighthearted piece is a great way to bring multiple choirs together in harmony. It may be sung by a single SATB choir, though it is intended to be performed by multiple choirs of varying age levels. Song of the Sound was written for an all-district feeder festival piece for combined elementary, middle level, and high school choirs. Here is a suggested outline for combining multiple choirs: Rehearsal Letters A to B: Elementary choir only (two-part, Soprano, Alto) Rehearsal Letter B: add Middle Level Soprano, Alto with Elementary choir Rehearsal Letter C: Middle Level choir only Rehearsal Letter D: High School choir only Rehearsal Letter E to the end: Everyone! Song of the Sound: Running on the beach, digging in the sand, Seaweed in my toes, bucket in my hand. When I'm at the shore, way above the rest, These are all the things that I love the best. Skipping like a stone on the water, diving deep in the silvery foam, Swimming far where the land cannot hold us, where the lighthouse calls us home. Flying free above the marshes, soaring high above the sea, Where the tern and cormorant and plover call to lands we cannot see.Come let us go to the water, let us go to the singing shore: Where the gentle breezes whisper and the mighty breakers roar. We will look to the shining ocean, to the East, where the new day dawned: We will sing a song of the edge of the world and the waiting sky beyond. -Poem by Robert Bode (Hope Springs Retreat Center, Ohio. August 2019) About the Composer: Jacob Narverud (b. 1986) is an American composer, arranger, and conductor. Dr. Narverud is an active guest Conductor/Clinician for Choral Festivals and All-State Choirs across the country and is the Founder/Artistic Director of the Tallgrass Chamber Choir, a professional ensemble comprised of musicians from across the Great Plains. As a sought-after composer, Narverud has been commissioned to write new works for a variety of choral ensembles and organizations. Many of his Editors' Choirs compositions are publisher Best Sellers and are performed worldwide by choirs of all levels. Website: www.jnarverud.com YouTube & Spotify: @jacobnarverud.
The piece was commissioned by Kevin Scully, Director of Creative Arts, for the Port Washington School District, New York, with special thanks to the Ed Foundation and HEARTS for their unwavering support.Performance NotesThis lighthearted piece is a great way to bring multiple choirs together in harmony. It may be sung by a single SATB choir, though it is intended to be performed by multiple choirs of varying age levels. Song of the Sound was written for an all-district feeder festival piece for combined elementary, middle level, and high school choirs. Here is a suggested outline for combining multiple choirs:Rehearsal Letters A to B: Elementary choir only (two-part, Soprano, Alto)Rehearsal Letter B: add Middle Level Soprano, Alto with Elementary choirRehearsal Letter C: Middle Level choir onlyRehearsal Letter D: High School choir onlyRehearsal Letter E to the end: Everyone!Song of the Sound:Running on the beach, digging in the sand,Seaweed in my toes, bucket in my hand.When I'm at the shore, way above the rest,These are all the things that I love the best. Skipping like a stone on the water, diving deep in the silvery foam,Swimming far where the land cannot hold us, where the lighthouse calls us home.Flying free above the marshes, soaring high above the sea,Where the tern and cormorant and plover call to lands we cannot see.Come let us go to the water, let us go to the singing shore:Where the gentle breezes whisper and the mighty breakers roar.We will look to the shining ocean, to the East, where the new day dawned:We will sing a song of the edge of the world and the waiting sky beyond.-Poem by Robert Bode (Hope Springs Retreat Center, Ohio. August 2019)About the Composer:Jacob Narverud (b. 1986) is an American composer, arranger, and conductor. Dr. Narverud is an active guest Conductor/Clinician for Choral Festivals and All-State Choirs across the country and is the Founder/Artistic Director of the Tallgrass Chamber Choir, a professional ensemble comprised of musicians from across the Great Plains. As a sought-after composer, Narverud has been commissioned to write new works for a variety of choral ensembles and organizations. Many of his Editors' Choirs compositions are publisher Best Sellers and are performed worldwide by choirs of all levels. Website: www.jnarverud.com  YouTube & Spotify: @jacobnarverud.

SKU: 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.

SKU: 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.

SKU: 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.

SKU: 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.

SKU: CF.CM9700

ISBN 9781491160008. UPC: 680160918607. Key: A minor. Hungarian. Hungarian Folk.

In 2014, Chanticleer commissioned me to make a new arrangement of the Hungarian-Romani folk song Jarba, Mare Jarba for their 2014 touring program. Passed down orally through the Romani communities, this beautiful folk song, with text in a language called Beas (beh-osh), speaks of a deep longing to visit one's homeland, a place where the singer can never return. Chanticleer consists of twelve men whose vocal ranges span from low bass to high soprano, equivalent to the range of a mixed choir of women and men. I composed slow sections of original material to represent the singers' longing to return home; these are interspersed with the folk song's traditional fast sections. The incorporated shouts and calls in the score are typically found in the performance of Central European folk songs. I hope you enjoy singing this new version of Jarba, Mare Jarba that contains all of the vigor and excitement of the Chanticleer version. PERFORMANCE NOTES All spoken sounds (indicated by x noteheads) should be performed by individuals. Feel free to elaborate with more sounds of your own in the tradition of Eastern European folk music. If the piece is memorized, feel free to experiment with clapping on the off-beats of m. 93 to the end. TEXT Transliteration Jarba, mare jarba mas duce a casa, da nu pot ca am jurat, Jarba, mare jarba mas duce a casa, da nu pot ca am jurat. Mare jarba, verde jarba nu me pot duce a casa. Jarba, mare jarba mas duce a casa, da nu pot ca am jurat. O mers mama de pe sat, O lasat coliba goala, Infrunzitu, ingurzitu da plina de saracie, da plina de saracie. Mare jarba, verde jarba nu me pot duce a casa. Jarba, mare jarba mas duce a casa, da nu pot ca am jurat. Translation Green grass, tall grass, I would like to go home, but I cannot, because I have sworn not to. Tall grass, green grass - oh, that I cannot go home! My mother has left the village; she left the hut empty, Adorned with leaves but full of poverty. Tall grass, green grass - oh, that I cannot go home! Tall grass, green grass - I would like to go home. but I cannot, because I have sworn not to. Stacy Garrop's music is centered on dramatic and lyrical storytelling. The sharing of stories is a defining element of our humanity; we strive to share with others the experiences and concepts that we find compelling. She shares stories by taking audiences on sonic journeys - some simple and beautiful, while others are complicated and dark - depending on the needs and dramatic shape of the story. Garrop served as the first Emerging Opera Composer of Chicago Opera Theater's Vanguard Program. She also held a 3-year composer-in-residence position with the Champaign-Urbana Symphony Orchestra, funded by New Music USA and the League of American Orchestras. She has received numerous awards and grants including an Arts and Letters Award in Music from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, Fromm Music Foundation Grant, Barlow Prize, and three Barlow Endowment commissions, along with prizes from competitions sponsored by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, Civic Orchestra of Chicago, Omaha Symphony, New England Philharmonic, Boston Choral Ensemble, Utah Arts Festival, and Pittsburgh New Music Ensemble. She is a Cedille Records artist; her works are commercially available on more than ten additional labels. Her catalog covers a wide range, with works for orchestra, opera, oratorio, wind ensemble, choir, art song, various sized chamber ensembles, and works for solo instruments. Notable commissions include My Dearest Ruth for soprano and piano with text by Martin Ginsburg, the husband of the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, The Transformation of Jane Doe for Chicago Opera Theater, The Battle for the Ballot for the Cabrillo Festival Orchestra, Goddess Triptych for the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, Glorious Mahalia for the Kronos Quartet, Give Me Hunger for Chanticleer, Rites for the Afterlife for the Akropolis and Calefax Reed Quintets, and Terra Nostra: an oratorio about our planet, commissioned by the San Francisco Choral Society and Piedmont East Bay Children's Chorus. Garrop previously served as composer-in-residence with the Albany Symphony and Skaneateles Festival, and as well as on faculty of the Fresh Inc Festival (2012-2017). She taught composition and orchestration full-time at Roosevelt University 2000-2016) before leaving to launch her freelance career. She earned degrees in music composition at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor (B.M.), University of Chicago (M.A.), and Indiana University-Bloomington (D.M.).
In 2014, Chanticleer commissioned me to make a new arrangement of the Hungarian-Romani folk song Jarba, Mare Jarba for their 2014 touring program. Passed down orally through the Romani communities, this beautiful folk song, with text in a language called Beas (beh-osh), speaks of a deep longing to visit one’s homeland, a place where the singer can never return. Chanticleer consists of twelve men whose vocal ranges span from low bass to high soprano, equivalent to the range of a mixed choir of women and men. I composed slow sections of original material to represent the singers’ longing to return home; these are interspersed with the folk song’s traditional fast sections. The incorporated shouts and calls in the score are typically found in the performance of Central European folk songs. I hope you enjoy singing this new version of Jarba, Mare Jarba that contains all of the vigor and excitement of the Chanticleer version.PERFORMANCE NOTESAll spoken sounds (indicated by x noteheads) should be performed by individuals. Feel free to elaborate with more sounds of your own in the tradition of Eastern European folk music.If the piece is memorized, feel free to experiment with clapping on the off-beats of m. 93 to the end.TEXTTransliterationJa rba, mare jarba mas duce a casa, da nu pot ca am jurat, Jarba, mare jarba mas duce a casa, da nu pot ca am jurat. Mare jarba, verde jarba nu me pot duce a casa.Jarba, mare jarba mas duce a casa, da nu pot ca am jurat.O mers mama de pe sat, O lasat coliba goala,Infrunzitu, ingurzitu da plina de saracie, da plina de saracie. Mare jarba, verde jarba nu me pot duce a casa.Jarba, mare jarba mas duce a casa, da nu pot ca am jurat.TranslationGreen grass, tall grass, I would like to go home, but I cannot, because I have sworn not to.Tall grass, green grass – oh, that I cannot go home!My mother has left the village; she left the hut empty, Adorned with leaves but full of poverty.Tall grass, green grass – oh, that I cannot go home! Tall grass, green grass – I would like to go home.but I cannot, because I have sworn not to.Stacy Garrop’s music is centered on dramatic and lyrical storytelling. The sharing of stories is a defining element of our humanity; we strive to share with others the experiences and concepts that we find compelling. She shares stories by taking audiences on sonic journeys – some simple and beautiful, while others are complicated and dark – depending on the needs and dramatic shape of the story.Garrop served as the first Emerging Opera Composer of Chicago Opera Theater’s Vanguard Program. She also held a 3-year composer-in-residence position with the Champaign-Urbana Symphony Orchestra, funded by New Music USA and the League of American Orchestras. She has received numerous awards and grants including an Arts and Letters Award in Music from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, Fromm Music Foundation Grant, Barlow Prize, and three Barlow Endowment commissions, along with prizes from competitions sponsored by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, Civic Orchestra of Chicago, Omaha Symphony, New England Philharmonic, Boston Choral Ensemble, Utah Arts Festival, and Pittsburgh New Music Ensemble. She is a Cedille Records artist; her works are commercially available on more than ten additional labels.Her catalog covers a wide range, with works for orchestra, opera, oratorio, wind ensemble, choir, art song, various sized chamber ensembles, and works for solo instruments. Notable commissions include My Dearest Ruth for soprano and piano with text by Martin Ginsburg, the husband of the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, The Transformation of Jane Doe for Chicago Opera Theater, The Battle for the Ballot for the Cabrillo Festival Orchestra, Goddess Triptych for the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, Glorious Mahalia for the Kronos Quartet, Give Me Hunger for Chanticleer, Rites for the Afterlife for the Akropolis and Calefax Reed Quintets, and Terra Nostra: an oratorio about our planet, commissioned by the San Francisco Choral Society and Piedmont East Bay Children’s Chorus.Garrop previously served as composer-in-residence with the Albany Symphony and Skaneateles Festival, and as well as on faculty of the Fresh Inc Festival (2012-2017). She taught composition and orchestration full-time at Roosevelt University 2000-2016) before leaving to launch her freelance career. She earned degrees in music composition at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor (B.M.), University of Chicago (M.A.), and Indiana University-Bloomington (D.M.).­­.

SKU: PR.14440265S

UPC: 680160027910.

The Second and Third Quartets were conceived at the same time; indeed, their composition intermingled, over half of No. 3 being sketched before No. 2 was completed. Accordingly, they share similar material but, like the intertwining blood of cousins, their natures differ: No. 2 being somewhat acerbic and declamatory, No. 3 more lyric and gentler. An annunicatory 'leaping motive' (derived from a motto generated by my name) opens Quartet No. 2 and inhabits the course of the piece as a cyclical binding-force. A five-note motive, usually very deliberate, also keeps recurring like an insistent caller. All three movements are based on tonal centers (I on B and E, II on D, III on C) and the harmonic 'grammar' spoken tends to recall the jazz world of my youth. To hopefully achieve a certain classical ambience was one of the goals of this piece, and all three movements have traditional forms. The first movement is a modified Sonata-Allegro design, with a severely-truncated recapitulation balanced by a lengthy, and decaying Coda. The second movement is a set of strophic variants and an epilogue interspersed with both solo ritornelli and first-movement material (the motto and the five-note motive) in the nature of a fantasia-like 'call-and-response.' It is dedicated to the memory of the American mezzo-soprano Jan DeGaetani. The third movement is a modified Rondo (ABACBA) which evolves out of the opening motto. All three movements make much use of canonic stretti, similar gestures, and repetition. For example, the climax of movement III's Rondo throws the first movement back at us again, as if the players were reluctant to let it go, so that the entire piece could perhaps be viewed as a single large, extended, Sonata movement, with introduction and Coda.
The Second and Third Quartets were conceived at the same time; indeed, their composition intermingled, over half of No. 3 being sketched before No. 2 was completed.  Accordingly, they share similar material but, like the intertwining blood of cousins, their natures differ: No. 2 being somewhat acerbic and declamatory, No. 3 more lyric and gentler.An annunicatory ‘leaping motive’ (derived from a motto generated by my name) opens Quartet No. 2 and inhabits the course of the piece as a cyclical binding-force.  A five-note motive, usually very deliberate, also keeps recurring like an insistent caller.  All three movements are based on tonal centers (I on B and E, II on D, III on C) and the harmonic ‘grammar’ spoken tends to recall the jazz world of my youth.To hopefully achieve a certain classical ambience was one of the goals of this piece, and all three movements have traditional forms.  The first movement is a modified Sonata-Allegro design, with a severely-truncated recapitulation balanced by a lengthy, and decaying Coda.  The second movement is a set of strophic variants and an epilogue interspersed with both solo ritornelli and first-movement material (the motto and the five-note motive) in the nature of a fantasia-like ‘call-and-response. ’  It is dedicated to the memory of the American mezzo-soprano Jan DeGaetani.  The third movement is a modified Rondo (ABACBA) which evolves out of the opening motto.All three movements make much use of canonic stretti, similar gestures, and repetition.  For example, the climax of movement III’s Rondo throws the first movement back at us again, as if the players were reluctant to let it go, so that the entire piece could perhaps be viewed as a single large, extended, Sonata movement, with introduction and Coda.

SKU: CF.WF230

ISBN 9781491153741. UPC: 680160911240.

Ever since he was honored 50 years ago as a top prize-winning graduate of New England Conservatory and a Fulbright scholar at the Paris Conservatoire, flutist Robert Stallman has drawn accolades around the world as a performer and recording artist who “dazzles because of his penetrating artistry” (Sunday Times/London). Also known internationally for superior flute editions, including numerous transcriptions that have greatly expanded the repertoire, Stallman now offers flutists an appealing collection of original melodic warm-ups. With The Flutist’s Handbook, he shares his fresh approach to staying in shape and maintaining his reputation for “consummate virtuosity” (Repertoire/France).
P refaceOne morning many years ago I opened my flute case and suddenly found myself questioning the wisdom of having scales and long tones come first in my practice session. Of course, these are essential to daily practice, but I wondered if there might be a better way to begin the day—with something more melodic and engaging, something to really inspire me.The Flutist’s Handbook emerged from a stream of musical ideas I began to jot down during practice sessions after that “aha” moment. As I worked with them, I noticed a more spontaneous interest in practicing. In fact I even looked forward to starting my day this way. As a result, my work on scales, arpeggios and long tones followed with more enjoyment and focused attention.In creating many of the détaché warm-ups found in Part I, I was drawn to the musical sequences of J. S. Bach, particularly those developed in his keyboard works. Bach had discovered the most satisfying musical patterns on which to build his music, so here was a treasure trove of invigorating melodic material. I also borrowed apt détaché passages from C.P.E. Bach, Schubert, Dvořák and others.Part II includes more musical quodlibets and echos in a collection of fifteen short melodies designed to open and center the tone, while encouraging full breath support. These melodies also concentrate on developing our sostenuto, or true legato playing—the foundation of a beautiful sonority and natural vocal expression. Except for final cadence notes, these warm-ups should be practiced without vibrato, to create an even and seamless instrument, bottom to top.All of these warm-ups are to be played forte and piano in every major key, proceeding chromatically by rising half-steps. Tempo indications are given in the headings, as are optional rhythmic and articulation variants. Suggested breath marks are in parentheses.The Handbook opens with détaché warm-ups for a good reason. It is vital to begin our practice with tonguing, as a clean attack is essential to producing a beautiful tone. Also, in working on tonguing (single, double, triple and tremolando) we stimulate and strengthen the jaw muscles that support the embouchure (which must remain supple and flexible). As we fine-tune these muscles, we gain tonal center and clarity, qualities that may elude us at the beginning of our practice. Of course, we also need to wake up the air stream and deepen our breath support. Once the tongue is alive and the tone is centered, we are ready to work further on our sonority with the melodic warm-ups in Part II.This book is meant for professionals, students and amateur flutists alike. I offer it to all as a companion that invites more pleasure and vitality into our daily practice. It is my firm belief that by aligning ourselves with our love of music and its energizing patterns each day—from the very first moment we pick up the instrument—we will bring more ease and focus into our lifelong task of staying in shape. This in turn will support the heightened inspiration we want to take into rehearsals and performances. Enjoy!—Robert StallmanMarblehead, MassachusettsApril 20, 2018.

SKU: CF.B3470

ISBN 9781491159460. UPC: 680160918058.

The awardee of two Guggenheim fellowships, Julia Perry studied composition with Luigi Dallapiccola and Nadia Boulanger, and conducted her works on a tour throughout Europe with the Vienna Philharmonic and the BBC Orchestra. She would become one of the first African-American female composers to have an orchestral work performed by the New York Philharmonic. Although she had an auspicious and promising career in her early life, it was tragically cut short by a series of strokes leading to partial paralysis and eventually, her death, at age 55 in 1979.Perry’s catalog is widely varied, featuring thirteen symphonies, numerous chamber and solo works, pieces for band, choral and vocal music, and four operas. Her Violin Concerto, completed in 1968, shows the influence of Dallapiccola’s teachings: sharp harmonic dissonances organized around specific pitch centers, short repetitive patterns that establish significant musical materials, and contrapuntal textures. Her fastidious performance markings in the solo violin part indicate her profound understanding of the instrument. Angular, muscled, and sparkling by turns, this piece is a sophisticated entry to the serious violinist's concert repertoire.There is no evidence or documentation that the Violin Concerto was ever premiered or performed during her lifetime, despite the fact that the composer prepared a full score, piano reduction and orchestral parts. Regrettably, this is the case with the majority of her works composed in the final decade of her life.
What is extraordinary about Julia Perry’s musical career was the astonishing success she attained in her early years. In her youth she studied piano, voice, violin and cello. She began to compose in her teenage years, her first publication being a choral work in 1947 by Carl Fischer. Her Stabat Mater was published in 1951 and would become one of her most often performed pieces, with performances in Europe and the United States. In 1953 she was awarded a Guggenheim fellowship to study with the Italian composer Luigi Dallapiccola, first at the Berkshire Music Center in Tanglewood, later in Florence, Italy. During this time, she also pursued studies with Nadia Boulanger in Paris and was awarded a second Guggenheim fellowship. She studied conducting at this time, touring Europe in 1957 to conduct her own works with the Vienna Philharmonic and the BBC Orchestra. During her European sojourns, she learned and mastered French, German and Italian. She would become one of the first African-American female composers to have an orchestral work performed by the New York Philharmonic.Perry� �s circumstances would change dramatically once she reached forty years of age, having returned permanently to the United States. At some point in the spring of 1970, she suffered the first of two strokes that would paralyze her right side and confine her to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Nonetheless, she continued to compose and to promote her works with publishers and conductors. A second stroke contributed to her death in 1979 at age 55. She likely endured harsh ethnic and gender discrimination in the course of her career, and her later years would witness a period of extreme civil unrest. These matters and the significance of music in her life are undoubtedly what led her to say, “Music has a great role to play in establishing the brotherhood of man.”Perry’s catalog is widely varied, featuring thirteen symphonies, numerous chamber and solo works, pieces for band, choral and vocal music, and four operas. Her Violin Concerto, completed in 1968, is indicative of the influence of Dallapiccola’s teachings: sharp harmonic dissonances organized around specific pitch centers, short repetitive patterns that establish significant musical materials, and contrapuntal textures. The work is a single movement of 392 measures organized around three alternating tempos: Slow (Œ = 60), Moderate (Œ = 84) and Fast (Œ = 120). The opening thirty-measure cadenza for the solo violin introduces most of the thematic material for the piece. The orchestration commonly features antiphonal writing between orchestral groups, for example, strings alternating with brass, or strings alternating with winds. The harp and piano generally appear as solo instruments, rather than as members of the orchestra. Her fastidious performance markings in the solo violin part indicate her profound understanding of the instrument.There is no evidence or documentation that the Violin Concerto was ever premiered or performed during her lifetime, despite the fact that the composer prepared a full score, piano reduction and orchestral parts. Regrettably, this is the case with the majority of her works composed in the final decade of her life.