Concertino for Solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra

SKU: BT.DHP-1125390-140

9x12 inches. English-German-French-Dut ch.

Intermezzo is the second movement of Satoshi Yagisawa’s Clarinet Concerto. The concerto was first performed by Higashi-Hiroshima Wind Ensemble in Hiroshima, Japan in 2010 with guest performer Shinsuke Hashimoto, clarinettist with the Hiroshima Symphony Orchestra and was conducted by Atsushi Kageyama. Inspiration for this work came from the fact that both Satoshi Yagisawa and Shinsuke Hashimoto graduated from Musashino Academia Musicae.Clarinet Concerto>/I> is the pinnacle of Satoshi Yagisawa’s “Concerto Series” which also features his Suite Concertante for Piano and WindOrchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, Saxophone Concertino, andConcertino for Solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra.Yagisawaâ� ��™s characteristic heartfelt theme in the second movement is especially popular and consequently—entitl ed Intermezzo—i t is often performed independently.Soloist: Grade 4

Intermezzo is het tweede deel van Satoshi Yagisawa’s Clarinet Concerto. Het concert als geheel werd in 2010 onder leiding van dirigent Atsushi Kageyama door het ensemble in première gebracht, samen met gastklarinettist Shinsuke Hashimoto - die werkzaam is bij het Hiroshima Symphony Orchestra. De inspiratiebron voor het werk is het gegeven dat Satoshi Yagisawa en Shinsuke Hashimoto beiden hebben gestudeerd aan de Musashino Academia Musicae.Clarinet Concerto vormt het hoogtepunt van Satoshi Yagisawa’s Concerto Series, waar ook zijn Suite Concertante for Piano and Wind Orchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, Saxophone Concertinoen Concertino for solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra deel van uitmaken.Met name Yagisawa’s karakteristieke doorvoelde thema uit het tweede deel is populair. Daarom wordt dat ook vaak als afzonderlijk stuk uitgevoerd, onder de titel Intermezzo.Soloist : Grade 4

Intermezzo ist der zweite Satz aus Satoshi Yagisawas Clarinet Concerto. Dieses wurde vom Bläserensemble Higashi-Hiroshima in Hiroshima (Japan) für das 20. Jahreskonzert in Auftrag gegeben. Es wurde von diesem Ensemble mit dem Gastsolisten Shinsuke Hashimoto, dem Klarinettisten des Hiroshima Symphony Orchestra, unter der Direktion von Atsushi Kageyama uraufgeführt. Satoshi Yagisawa ließ sich zu diesem Werk vom gemeinsamen Abschluss mit Shinsuke Hashimoto an der Academia Musicae Musashino inspirieren. Clarinet Concerto bildet den Höhepunkt von Satoshi Yagisawas Concerto-Reihe“, zu welcher außerdem folgende Werke zählen: Suite Concertante for Piano andWind Orchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, Saxophone Concertino sowie das Concertino for Solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra.Das charakteristische, innige Thema aus dem zweiten Satz erfreut sich besonderer Beliebtheit und wird daher als Intermezzo oft einzeln aufgeführt.Solostimme: Schwierigkeitsgrad 4

Intermezzo est le deuxième mouvement extrait du Concerto pour Clarinette de Satoshi Yagisawa. Le concerto a été créé en 2010 par l’Orchestre d’Harmonie d’Higashi-Hiroshim a sous la direction d’Atsushi Kageyama avec la participation de Shinsuke Hashimoto, clarinettiste de l’Orchestre Symphonique d’Hiroshima. Cette oeuvre s’inspire du fait que Satoshi Yagisawa et Shinsuke Hashimoto sont tous deux diplômés du Conservatoire de musique de Musashino.Le Concerto pour Clarinette représente l’apogée de la série de concertos de Satoshi Yagisawa, qui comprend aussi une Suite concertante pour piano et orchestre, un Concerto pour trompette, unConcerto pour trombone, un Concertino pour saxophone et un Concertino pour percussion solo et orchestre d’harmonie.En raison de sa grande popularité, le thème émouvant du deuxième mouvement, qui est intitulé Intermezzo, est souvent interprété indépendamment.Soliste : Degré de difficulté 4.

SKU: BT.DHP-1125390-010

9x12 inches. English-German-French-Dut ch.

Intermezzo is the second movement of Satoshi Yagisawa’s Clarinet Concerto. The concerto was first performed by Higashi-Hiroshima Wind Ensemble in Hiroshima, Japan in 2010 with guest performer Shinsuke Hashimoto, clarinettist with the Hiroshima Symphony Orchestra and was conducted by Atsushi Kageyama. Inspiration for this work came from the fact that both Satoshi Yagisawa and Shinsuke Hashimoto graduated from Musashino Academia Musicae.Clarinet Concerto>/I> is the pinnacle of Satoshi Yagisawa’s “Concerto Series” which also features his Suite Concertante for Piano and WindOrchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, Saxophone Concertino, andConcertino for Solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra.Yagisawaâ� ��™s characteristic heartfelt theme in the second movement is especially popular and consequently—entitl ed Intermezzo—i t is often performed independently.Soloist: Grade 4

Intermezzo is het tweede deel van Satoshi Yagisawa’s Clarinet Concerto. Het concert als geheel werd in 2010 onder leiding van dirigent Atsushi Kageyama door het ensemble in première gebracht, samen met gastklarinettist Shinsuke Hashimoto - die werkzaam is bij het Hiroshima Symphony Orchestra. De inspiratiebron voor het werk is het gegeven dat Satoshi Yagisawa en Shinsuke Hashimoto beiden hebben gestudeerd aan de Musashino Academia Musicae.Clarinet Concerto vormt het hoogtepunt van Satoshi Yagisawa’s Concerto Series, waar ook zijn Suite Concertante for Piano and Wind Orchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, Saxophone Concertinoen Concertino for solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra deel van uitmaken.Met name Yagisawa’s karakteristieke doorvoelde thema uit het tweede deel is populair. Daarom wordt dat ook vaak als afzonderlijk stuk uitgevoerd, onder de titel Intermezzo.Soloist : Grade 4

Intermezzo ist der zweite Satz aus Satoshi Yagisawas Clarinet Concerto. Dieses wurde vom Bläserensemble Higashi-Hiroshima in Hiroshima (Japan) für das 20. Jahreskonzert in Auftrag gegeben. Es wurde von diesem Ensemble mit dem Gastsolisten Shinsuke Hashimoto, dem Klarinettisten des Hiroshima Symphony Orchestra, unter der Direktion von Atsushi Kageyama uraufgeführt. Satoshi Yagisawa ließ sich zu diesem Werk vom gemeinsamen Abschluss mit Shinsuke Hashimoto an der Academia Musicae Musashino inspirieren. Clarinet Concerto bildet den Höhepunkt von Satoshi Yagisawas Concerto-Reihe“, zu welcher außerdem folgende Werke zählen: Suite Concertante for Piano andWind Orchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, Saxophone Concertino sowie das Concertino for Solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra.Das charakteristische, innige Thema aus dem zweiten Satz erfreut sich besonderer Beliebtheit und wird daher als Intermezzo oft einzeln aufgeführt.Solostimme: Schwierigkeitsgrad 4

Intermezzo est le deuxième mouvement extrait du Concerto pour Clarinette de Satoshi Yagisawa. Le concerto a été créé en 2010 par l’Orchestre d’Harmonie d’Higashi-Hiroshim a sous la direction d’Atsushi Kageyama avec la participation de Shinsuke Hashimoto, clarinettiste de l’Orchestre Symphonique d’Hiroshima. Cette oeuvre s’inspire du fait que Satoshi Yagisawa et Shinsuke Hashimoto sont tous deux diplômés du Conservatoire de musique de Musashino.Le Concerto pour Clarinette représente l’apogée de la série de concertos de Satoshi Yagisawa, qui comprend aussi une Suite concertante pour piano et orchestre, un Concerto pour trompette, unConcerto pour trombone, un Concertino pour saxophone et un Concertino pour percussion solo et orchestre d’harmonie.En raison de sa grande popularité, le thème émouvant du deuxième mouvement, qui est intitulé Intermezzo, est souvent interprété indépendamment.Soliste : Degré de difficulté 4.

SKU: BT.DHP-1145403-010

English-German-French- Dutch.

The Clarinet Concerto is the highpoint of Satoshi Yagisawa’s ‘Concerto Series’, which also includes Suite Concertante for Piano and Wind Orchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto and Saxophone Concertino, as well asConcertino for Solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra. Yagisawa’s characteristic theme in the second movement enjoys great popularity and is therefore often performed separately as Intermezzo.

Het Clarinet Concerto vormt het hoogtepunt van Satoshi Yagisawa’s Concerto Series, waar ook zijn Suite Concertante for Piano and Wind Orchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, Saxophone Concertino enConcertino for Solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra deel van uitmaken. Met name Yagisawa’s karakteristieke thema uit het tweede deel is populair. Daarom wordt dat vaak als afzonderlijk stuk uitgevoerd, onder de titel

Das Clarinet Concerto bildet den Höhepunkt der Concerto-Reihe“ von Satoshi Yagisawa, zu welcher außerdem folgende seiner Werke zählen: Suite Concertante for Piano and Wind Orchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, SaxophoneConcertino sowie das Concertino for Solo Percussion and Wind Orchestra. Yagisawas charakteristisches Thema im zweiten Satz erfreut sich besonderer Beliebtheit und wird daher als Intermezzo oft einzeln aufgeführt.

Cet te composition représente l’apogée de la série de concertos de Satoshi Yagisawa, qui comprend aussi une Suite concertante pour piano et orchestre, un Concerto pour trompette, un Concerto pour trombone, un Concertino poursaxophone et un Concertino pour percussion solo et orchestre d’harmonie. En raison de sa grande popularité, le thème émouvant du deuxième mouvement, qui est intitulé Intermezzo, est souvent interprété indépendamment.

Il Clarinet Concerto fa parte della Concert Series“ di Satoshi Yagisawa, che include le seguenti opere: Suite Concertante for Piano and Wind Orchestra, Trumpet Concerto, Trombone Concerto, Saxophone Concertino e anche Concertino forSolo Percussion and Wind Orchestra. Il tema caratteristico di Yagisawa nel secondo movimento gode di una popolarit speciale e viene quindi spesso eseguito da solo come intermezzo.

SKU: HL.35004649

SKU: GH.CG-6267P

SKU: HL.44011735

UPC: 884088896324.

SKU: HL.44011734

UPC: 884088896317.

SKU: PR.11440986S

UPC: 680160014651.

Here I have adapted a standard musical form to a contemporary medium. The concertino is a small concerto: a one-movement work that draws upon the basic principles of the concerto form - two bodies of sound which at times compete, contrast, or act together. The piece explores the musical possibilities of Roto-toms. The sound of these drums is a cross between a tom-tom and a timpani, and their pitch is changed by rotating the drum. During the course of the work, the various effects used include pitch and fingernail glissandi; playing on the rims; and playing on the heads with fingers, brushes, timpani sticks, wood mallets or rattan. Harmonics on the octave and the fourth above the fundamental pitch are produced by the drums when weights (in this case, small pitched cymbales called crotales) are placed in the center of the drum heads. In return the drum itself acts a resonator for the crotales, which also have a fundamental pitch when played on the face and a partial a fifth above when played on the center dome. The opening section of the concertino introduces a motive, played by the soloist, while the ensemble sustains a bowed chord on the vibraphone. Following this cadenza-like introduction, the piece gradually moves into a bright 6/8 tempo that is characterized by constant sixteenth notes in all parts. After a brief period of interaction, the ensemble continues its sixteenth notes patterns and the soloist plays and improvised solo. Next, an interlude is presented by the ensemble which leads to a dramatic recapitulation by the soloist of the motivic material. A thematically-derived coda concludes the work. Encounters VI, commissioned by Remo Belli, is dedicated to Jennifer Kraft, the composer's daughter. The premiere performance took place in 1976 at the MENC National Convention in Atlantic City, New Jersey, and was performed by the Temple University Percussion Ensemble conducted by Glenn Steele. --William Kraft.

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.