I Would Have Been Surprised, Too

SKU: HL.14021104

UPC: 884088433321. 9.75x13.75 inches.

The composer writes: Pilgrim was inspired, it will be no surprise to learn, by reading Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress - Vaughan Williams's great opera on the subject had fascinated me from its first performance, yet it was a long time before I caught up with this essential item in any well-stocked library of English classics. It made a great impression, not least because of its theme of a journey of self-discovery, and a rediscovery or renewal of faith. These are ideas which have a strong interest for me, not in religious terms but in their application to every aspect of human life (including great journeys), and this piece reflects my response in musical terms to this concern. The tempo of the whole piece, which lasts about 18 minutes, is basically slow. There are two quick episodes, but these act somewhat like the trio sections of a classical scherzo, save that the tempo relationships are inverted (the classical trios would have been slower, not quicker) and the canvas is much larger, being that of a single, substantial, slow movement. The form of the whole is perhaps fantasia-like rather than having any relationship to classical forms such as sonata or rondo - some motifs and themes are varied as the work develops, and the opening chords are of primary importance throughout the work. There has been no attempt to convey any pictorial elements deriving from Bunyan's great book. There is, however, one feature which, upon completion of the score, struck me with some force, which is that almost all the thematic material is essentially striving upwards - there is a constant upward movement (sometimes over a lengthy period) throughout the work. Pilgrim was commissioned by the Luton Music Club for the Raphael Ensemble with funds provided by the Eastern Arts Board and Bedfordshire County Council, and is dedicated to the Luton Music Club. The first performance was given in Luton on February 10th 1997 and followed, as part of a joint scheme, by performances in the same week at the Music Clubs of Bedford and Leighton Buzzard.

SKU: HL.14021105

ISBN 9780711997950. UPC: 884088433307. 8.25x11.75x0.088 inches.

The composer writes: Pilgrim was inspired, it will be no surprise to learn, by reading Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress - Vaughan Williams's great opera on the subject had fascinated me from its first performance, yet it was a long time before I caught up with this essential item in any well-stocked library of English classics. It made a great impression, not least because of its theme of a journey of self-discovery, and a rediscovery or renewal of faith. These are ideas which have a strong interest for me, not in religious terms but in their application to every aspect of human life (including great journeys), and this piece reflects my response in musical terms to this concern. The tempo of the whole piece, which lasts about 18 minutes, is basically slow. There are two quick episodes, but these act somewhat like the trio sections of a classical scherzo, save that the tempo relationships are inverted (the classical trios would have been slower, not quicker) and the canvas is much larger, being that of a single, substantial, slow movement. The form of the whole is perhaps fantasia-like rather than having any relationship to classical forms such as sonata or rondo - some motifs and themes are varied as the work develops, and the opening chords are of primary importance throughout the work. There has been no attempt to convey any pictorial elements deriving from Bunyan's great book. There is, however, one feature which, upon completion of the score, struck me with some force, which is that almost all the thematic material is essentially striving upwards - there is a constant upward movement (sometimes over a lengthy period) throughout the work. Pilgrim was commissioned by the Luton Music Club for the Raphael Ensemble with funds provided by the Eastern Arts Board and Bedfordshire County Council, and is dedicated to the Luton Music Club. The first performance was given in Luton on February 10th 1997 and followed, as part of a joint scheme, by performances in the same week at the Music Clubs of Bedford and Leighton Buzzard.

SKU: PR.416415760

UPC: 680160636532. 9 x 12 inches.

The 1712 Overture stands out in P.D.Q. Bach's oeuvre for two reasons, among others: it is by far the most programmatic instrumental piece among those by the minimeister of Wein-am-Rhein so far unearthed, and 2) its discovery has led to a revelation about the composer's father, Johann Sebastian Bach, that has exploded like a bombshell on the usually serene musicological landscape. The overture is based on an anecdote told to P.D.Q. Bach by a cousin, Peter Ulrich. Since P.U. Bach lived in Dudeldorf, only a few miles down the road from Wein-am-Rhein, he was P.D.Q.'s closest relative, and he was, in fact, one of the few members of the family who was on speaking terms with P.D.Q. The story, related to P.D.Q. (fortunately for us posterity types) in a letter, may be summarized thus: The town of Dudeldorf was founded by two brothers, Rudi and Dieter Dudel, early in the 18th century. Rudi remained mayor of the newborn burg for the rest of his long life, but Dieter had a dream of starting a musicians' colony, an entire city devoted to music, which dream, he finally decided, could be realized only in the New World. In 1712, he and several other bagpipers sailed to Boston, never to return to Germany. (Henceforth, Rudi became known as der deutscher Dudel and Dieter as the Yankee Dudel). Unfortunately, the head of the Boston Musicians' Guild had gotten wind of Dudel's plans, and Wilhelm Wiesel (pron. VEE-zle), known none too affectionately around town as Wiesel the Weasel, was not about to share what few gigs there were in colonial America with more foreigners and outside agitators. He and his cronies were on hand to meet Dudel's boat when it pulled into Boston Harbor; they intended to prevent the newcomers' disembarkation, but Dudel and his companions managed to escape to the other side of the bay in a dinghy, landing with just enough time to rent a carriage and horses before hearing the sound of The Weasel and his men, who had had to come around the long way. The Germans headed West, with the Bostonians in furious pursuit. soon the city had been left far behind, and by midnight so had the pursuers; Dieter Dudel decided that it was safe for him and his men to stop and sleep until daybreak. When they awoke, they found that they were in a beautiful landscape of low, forested mountains and pleasant fields, warmed by the brilliant morning sun and serenaded by an entrancing variety of birds. Here, Dudel thought, her is where I will build my colony. The immigrants continued down the road at a leisurely pace until they came upon a little church, all by itself in the countryside, from which there suddenly emanated the sounds of a pipe organ. At this point, the temptation to quote from P.U. Bach's letter to P.D.Q. cannot be resisted: They went inside and, after listening to the glorious music for a while, introduced themselves to the organist. And who do you think it was? Are you ready for this -- it was your old man! Hey, no kidding -- you know, I'm sure, that your father was the guy to get when it came to testing new organs, and whoever had that one in Massachusetts built offered old Sebastian a tidy sum to go over there and check it out. The unexpected meeting with J.S. Bach and his sponsors was interrupted by the sound of horse hooves, as the dreaded Wiesel and his men thundered on to the scene. They had been riding all night, however, and they were no spring chickens to start with, and as soon as they reached the church they all dropped, exhausted, to the ground. The elated Germans rang the church bells and offered to buy everyone a beer at the nearest tavern. There they were taught, and joined in singing, what might be called the national anthem of the New World. The melody of this pre-revolutionary patriotic song is still remembered (P.D.Q. Bach quotes it, in the bass instruments, near the end of the overture), but is words are now all but forgotten: Freedom, of thee we sing, Freedom e'er is our goal; Death to the English King, Long live Rock and Ross. The striking paucity of biographical references to Johann Sebastian Bah during the year 1712 can now be explained: he was abroad for a significant part of that year, testing organs in the British Colonies. That this revelation has not been accepted as fact by the musicological establishment is no surprise, since it means that a lot of books would have to be rewritten. The members of that establishment haven't even accepted the existence of P.D.Q. Bach, one of whose major works the 1712 Overture certainly is. It is also a work that shows Tchaikowsky up as the shameless plagiarizer that some of us have always known he was. The discovery of this awesome opus was made possible by a Boston Pops Centennial Research Commission; the first modern performance took place at the opening concert of the 100th anniversary season of that orchestra, under the exciting but authentic direction of John Williams.

SKU: PR.41641576L

UPC: 680160636549. 11 x 17 inches.

The 1712 Overture stands out in P.D.Q. Bach's oeuvre for two reasons, among others: it is by far the most programmatic instrumental piece among those by the minimeister of Wein-am-Rhein so far unearthed, and 2) its discovery has led to a revelation about the composer's father, Johann Sebastian Bach, that has exploded like a bombshell on the usually serene musicological landscape. The overture is based on an anecdote told to P.D.Q. Bach by a cousin, Peter Ulrich. Since P.U. Bach lived in Dudeldorf, only a few miles down the road from Wein-am-Rhein, he was P.D.Q.'s closest relative, and he was, in fact, one of the few members of the family who was on speaking terms with P.D.Q. The story, related to P.D.Q. (fortunately for us posterity types) in a letter, may be summarized thus: The town of Dudeldorf was founded by two brothers, Rudi and Dieter Dudel, early in the 18th century. Rudi remained mayor of the newborn burg for the rest of his long life, but Dieter had a dream of starting a musicians' colony, an entire city devoted to music, which dream, he finally decided, could be realized only in the New World. In 1712, he and several other bagpipers sailed to Boston, never to return to Germany. (Henceforth, Rudi became known as der deutscher Dudel and Dieter as the Yankee Dudel). Unfortunately, the head of the Boston Musicians' Guild had gotten wind of Dudel's plans, and Wilhelm Wiesel (pron. VEE-zle), known none too affectionately around town as Wiesel the Weasel, was not about to share what few gigs there were in colonial America with more foreigners and outside agitators. He and his cronies were on hand to meet Dudel's boat when it pulled into Boston Harbor; they intended to prevent the newcomers' disembarkation, but Dudel and his companions managed to escape to the other side of the bay in a dinghy, landing with just enough time to rent a carriage and horses before hearing the sound of The Weasel and his men, who had had to come around the long way. The Germans headed West, with the Bostonians in furious pursuit. soon the city had been left far behind, and by midnight so had the pursuers; Dieter Dudel decided that it was safe for him and his men to stop and sleep until daybreak. When they awoke, they found that they were in a beautiful landscape of low, forested mountains and pleasant fields, warmed by the brilliant morning sun and serenaded by an entrancing variety of birds. Here, Dudel thought, her is where I will build my colony. The immigrants continued down the road at a leisurely pace until they came upon a little church, all by itself in the countryside, from which there suddenly emanated the sounds of a pipe organ. At this point, the temptation to quote from P.U. Bach's letter to P.D.Q. cannot be resisted: They went inside and, after listening to the glorious music for a while, introduced themselves to the organist. And who do you think it was? Are you ready for this -- it was your old man! Hey, no kidding -- you know, I'm sure, that your father was the guy to get when it came to testing new organs, and whoever had that one in Massachusetts built offered old Sebastian a tidy sum to go over there and check it out. The unexpected meeting with J.S. Bach and his sponsors was interrupted by the sound of horse hooves, as the dreaded Wiesel and his men thundered on to the scene. They had been riding all night, however, and they were no spring chickens to start with, and as soon as they reached the church they all dropped, exhausted, to the ground. The elated Germans rang the church bells and offered to buy everyone a beer at the nearest tavern. There they were taught, and joined in singing, what might be called the national anthem of the New World. The melody of this pre-revolutionary patriotic song is still remembered (P.D.Q. Bach quotes it, in the bass instruments, near the end of the overture), but is words are now all but forgotten: Freedom, of thee we sing, Freedom e'er is our goal; Death to the English King, Long live Rock and Ross. The striking paucity of biographical references to Johann Sebastian Bah during the year 1712 can now be explained: he was abroad for a significant part of that year, testing organs in the British Colonies. That this revelation has not been accepted as fact by the musicological establishment is no surprise, since it means that a lot of books would have to be rewritten. The members of that establishment haven't even accepted the existence of P.D.Q. Bach, one of whose major works the 1712 Overture certainly is. It is also a work that shows Tchaikowsky up as the shameless plagiarizer that some of us have always known he was. The discovery of this awesome opus was made possible by a Boston Pops Centennial Research Commission; the first modern performance took place at the opening concert of the 100th anniversary season of that orchestra, under the exciting but authentic direction of John Williams.

SKU: BR.EB-8118

ISBN 9790004175019. 9 x 12 inches.

Richard Wagner (1813-1883) is rightly considered as the 19th-century music dramatist whose formal and harmonic originality, for example in Tristan and Isolde, provided a significant impetus to the development of 20th-century music. Despite Wagner's fame, his reuvre for piano remains practically unknown. Tobe sure, these primarily early works and occasional compositions hardly even hint at the outstanding characteristics of the later works such as leit-motifs, flowing transitions or original forms. Nonetheless, whoever is acquainted with Wagner's later music dramas will undoubtedly not fail to be impressed by the individual melodic and harmonic traits of his piano works. The Sonata in B-flat Major Op. 1 is of special interest to us today since it is Wagner's first published work, composed in 1831 and printed in 1832 by Breitkopf & Hartel. At that time, Wagner was studying counterpoint with Theodor Weinlig, the choral master and music director of the Thomasschule in Leipzig. Weinlig, however, only agreed to give Wagner lessons if he promised to refrain from composing for half a year. In the course of his studies, Wagner was allowed to compose the piano sonata in B-flat Major as a kind of journeyman-work. His teacher Weinlig succeeded in having the work published by Breitkopf & Hartel. Hence the dedication of this piece to Weinlig is not surprising, since the 18-year-old Wagner would otherwise have had great difficulty finding a publisher. This Sonata in B-flat Major, which has long been out of print, is a reproduction of the first edition by Breitkopf & Hartel (plate number 10433). For this reprint, obvious typographical errors have been corrected (missing or wrong accidentals and dynamic indications). The work presents a four-movement classical sonata form and is stylistically reminiscent of Mozart and Beethoven. Shortly before composing this sonata, Wagner wrote a piano reduction of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, which was easily playable and yet gratifying to hear. This helps explain the octave-doublings typical of piano reductions. Wiesbaden, Fall 1980

Respectfully dedicated to Theodor Weinlig, the choral master and music director of the Thomasschule in Leipzig.

SKU: CA.3118419

ISBN 9790007134235. Key: G major / e minor. Language: German/English.

The Pentecost cantata Desired ray of light BWV 184 is based on a Kothen composition, probably a congratulatory cantata, whose instrumental parts (only these have survived) Bach reused in the Leipzig Pentecost cantata. Only the chorale setting was evidently newly composed. Despite the narrow leeway that the already finished composition left for the librettist, he nevertheless succeeded in crafting a coherent Pentecost text. The fact that the cantata begins with a long tenor accompagnato with two flutes followed by a pastoral duet is surprising. The placing of the chorale not at the end of the work but before the concluding chorus is unusual. Bach was evidently aware of the effect that the ending of this lively movement would have and wanted to retain this in its sacred form as well. The sacred version was first performed on the third day of Pentecost in 1724, probably after a parody version of another Kothen cantata (BWV 173) had already been performed on the second day of Pentecost. Score and parts available separately - see item CA.3118400.

SKU: CA.3118407

ISBN 9790007050481. Key: G major / e minor. Language: German/English.

The Pentecost cantata Desired ray of light BWV 184 is based on a Kothen composition, probably a congratulatory cantata, whose instrumental parts (only these have survived) Bach reused in the Leipzig Pentecost cantata. Only the chorale setting was evidently newly composed. Despite the narrow leeway that the already finished composition left for the librettist, he nevertheless succeeded in crafting a coherent Pentecost text. The fact that the cantata begins with a long tenor accompagnato with two flutes followed by a pastoral duet is surprising. The placing of the chorale not at the end of the work but before the concluding chorus is unusual. Bach was evidently aware of the effect that the ending of this lively movement would have and wanted to retain this in its sacred form as well. The sacred version was first performed on the third day of Pentecost in 1724, probably after a parody version of another Kothen cantata (BWV 173) had already been performed on the second day of Pentecost. Score available separately - see item CA.3118400.