Concertino per a instruments d’arc

SKU: BO.B.3059

ISBN 9788480202831.

English comments:
Concertino for violin and string orchestra was composed in 1993. It is a pleasant score with a slightly virtuosic touch written with the idea of creating a relaxed atmosphere in which the soloist and the orchestra can display their technique and expressive capabilities. It is a work, similar in lenght to baroque concertos, and is divided into three movements, folowing the conventional form.: two fast movements around a slow one. Te first two movements -Allegro burlesco and Adagio cantabile- follow the ABA pattern. The third starts with a -cadenza- by the soloist which includes thematic material from the previous slow movement linking straight up to the -Presto- which uses as its main idea a more forceful version of the opening melodic sketch of the -Allegro burlesco- converted into three time. The work was specially creatied for the violinist Gerard Claret and the Orquestra de Cambra Nacional d'Andorra. Recordings: Hermitage Orchestra-Camerata St. Petersburg, violin: Sergey Malov, conductor: Alexis Soriano. Ensayo (ENY-2003). Jordi Cervello

Comentarios del Espanol:
Concertino para violin y orquesta de cuerda es una obra compuesta en 1993. Se trata de una partitura amable y de cierto toque virtuosistico cuya principal preocupacion ha sido crear una atmosfera distendida en la que el solista y la orquesta puedan desplegar con espontaneidad sus capacidades tecnicas y expresivas. Es una obra de duracion similar a la de los conciertos del barroco y dividida en sus tres tipicos movimientos. Dos rapidos enmarcando uno lento. Los dos primeros -Allegro burlesco y Adagio cantabile- se desarrollan bajo el esquema ABA. El tercero inicia con una -cadenza- del solista que recoge material tematico del movimiento lento precedente para enlazar sin interrupcion con el -Presto- que utiliza como idea principal el dibujo melodico que abre el -Allegro burlesco-, pero mas decidido y a compas ternario. La obra fue compuesta expresamente para el violinista Gerard Claret y la Orquestra Nacional de Cambra d'Andorra. Grabaciones: Hermitage Orchestra-Camerata St. Petersburg, violin solista: Sergey Malov, direccion: Alexis Soriano. Ensayo (ENY-2003) Jordi Cervello.

SKU: BO.B.3338

English comments: I finished writing the Porta Ferrada Double Concerto at the beginning of 2004. I was commissioned to write it for the Porta Ferrada International Music Festival (in Sant Feliu de Guixols).This double concerto for violin, cello and chamber ensemble represents the start of a period in which the pieces that I am working on are all for small ensembles: Davallament, for soprano and piano; Quinteto de la sala de Levante, for clarinet and string quartet; Palau d'hivern, for soprano, clarinet and string quartet; and Concertino Geminis for solo violin and 15 string instruments.Having written large-scale works, I have now gone back to writing chamber music.

We can see how, throughout my career, the sinfonia concertante form is omnipresent in almost all my earlier periods. I still haven't found a satisfactory answer to why I choose a dialogue between a soloist and an instrumental group so often. I would perhaps say that with a solo instrument it seems as if my music has to flow more effortlessly, allowing me to work more easily. Having a main character in the piece's discourse greatly helps me to develop the idea I have about the piece I want to write.

In this case there are two string soloists, the violin and the cello, which of course play a major part, but without this becoming a virtuosic. As for its form, the piece is based on three parts that meet without interruption.It was first performed on 10 August 2005 at the Teatre Auditori Municipal in Sant Feliu de Guixols as part of the 43rd edition of the Porta Ferrada International Festival, by the Porta Ferrada Simfonietta orchestra and the soloists Melodie Giot and Manon Philippe, conducted by Daniel Tosi.

Comentarios del Espanol: Acabe de escribir el Doble Concierto de la Porta Ferrada a principios del ano 2004. Nace como un encargo del Festival Internacional de Musica de la Porta Ferrada (Sant Feliu de Guixols).Este doble concierto, para violin, violonchelo y un conjunto de camara, abre un periodo en el que las obras que trabajo son todas para pequenos conjuntos: Davallament, para soprano y piano; Quinteto de la sala de Levante, para clarinete y cuarteto de cuerda; Palau d'hivern, para soprano, clarinete y cuarteto de cuerda; Concertino Geminis para violin solista y 15 instrumentos de cuerda.Despues de haber escrito obras de gran formato, ahora vuelvo a la musica de camara.

Podemos ver como la forma concertante, a lo largo de toda mi produccion, es omnipresente en casi todas las epocas precedentes. No he encontrado una respuesta satisfactoria al porque de elegir tan a menudo el dialogo entre un solista y un grupo instrumental. Como aproximacion, diria que con un instrumento solista parece ser que mi musica tenga que fluir mas facilmente y que pueda trabajar con mas comodidad. El hecho de tener un personaje principal en el discurso de la partitura me ayuda mucho a desarrollar la idea que tengo sobre la obra que quiero escribir.

En este caso se trata de dos solistas de cuerda, el violin y el violonchelo, que, como es natural, toman un papel primordial sin que, sin embargo, lleguen a alcanzar una parte virtuosistica. La obra, formalmente, se basa en tres partes que se tocan sin interrupcion.

El estreno tuvo lugar el 10 de agosto de 2005 en el Teatre Auditori Municipal de Sant Feliu de Guixols, en el marco del 43 Festival Internacional de la Porta Ferrada, por la orquesta Simfonietta Porta Ferrada y las solistas Melodie Giot y Manon Philippe, bajo la direccion de Daniel Tosi.

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.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.