All Campus Orchestra / Concert Band 4.26

French composer Emmanuel Chabrier settled down to a career working as a public servant, working for 18 years as a legal official for the Ministry of the Interior. He had a lifelong love of music and actually began piano lessons with a Spaniard at the age of six. He dabbled in music, composing a couple of operettas and other small pieces while maintaining friendships with musical and artistic types, including the poet Paul Verlaine, painter Édouard Manet, and the composer Gabriel Fauré. But it was a performance, in Germany, of Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde, which led him to quit the Ministry shortly before his 40th birthday and become a full-time musician. Four years later, in 1883, he published his most popular work, a Spanish-themed rhapsody called España (or Spain). It captures the bright colors and energy of Spanish culture and dance, with vigorous and singable melodic material and percussion (including cymbals and the tambourine). An episode in the middle seems to evoke the midday heat (a welcome thought in February), before winding up towards its rousing end.
– Lansdowne Symphony Orchestra (Edited)

Enescu’s Romanian Rhapsodies for orchestra owe much of their existence to Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsodies, which predate Enescu’s by about 50 years. The term “rhapsody” in the context of a musical composition likely originates with Liszt and promises music that sounds wild and improvisatory. Enescu’s Rhapsody No. 1 surely makes good on this promise, providing electrifying tune after tune, all with an air of spontaneity and a frenzied finale. A celebrated composer, virtuoso violinist, and conductor, Enescu was the foremost Romanian musical figure of his generation. Naturally, many Romanian folk elements contributed to his musical language and development as a composer. Enescu’s busy performing career and extreme perfectionism led to a very small musical output of only 33 published works, but of those, many stand out for their musical freshness and technical skill.

– Composer John Glover is the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s Publications Assistant.

The White Peacock was originally composed in 1915 for solo piano as part of the piano suite Four Roman Sketches, however in 1919 Griffes orchestrated the music for a ballet. The title of the piece derives from an experience that Griffes had whilst visiting a zoo in Berlin: 

“Among the peacocks, was a pure white one – very curious.” 

In the score of the new orchestration for ballet, Griffes wrote:

“It pictures a wonderful garden filled with gorgeous colour, where a white peacock moves about slowly, as the soul, as the breath of all this beauty.” 

This short but descriptive piece evokes many different images, colors, and atmospheres, all relating to this graceful peacock. Sustained strings accompany the agile woodwind at the start of the piece. A solo flute and oboe take turns presenting the melody, with the strings and harp flourishing and rocking in the background. Throughout this piece, the atmosphere is serene, and carefully follows the subtle movements of the animal. Griffes handling of harmony exemplifies the French Impressionism style, with the works of Claude Debussy and Maurice Ravel serving as inspiration to Griffes. The nuanced atonality sweeps through the music, creating ripples of uncertainty within the music. 

As the serene landscape becomes slightly more agitated in the upwards spiral towards the climax, Griffes’ orchestration comes into fruition. Shadowing phrases fall between the woodwind as the strings begin to climb into their upper range. The rich textures swell over the orchestra as the texture becomes thinner. The clarinet takes a solo, accompanied by a selection of upper strings. The solo is passed to the flute, and then the two create a call and response passage. The White Peacock concludes how it began – quietly and with poise and dignity.

– Alex Burns (edited)

The “Dance of the Hours” was intended to depict neither dancing hippos nor desperate letters from summer camp, but good luck listening to this piece without letting your mind wander to either of those images. In addition to being featured in Disney’s “Fantasia” and serving as the melody of “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh”, this music has been adapted into pop songs by singers ranging from Nancy Sinatra to Spike Jones. Madeline Kahn even used it to select soldiers for her evening entertainment in Mel Brooks’ “History of the World, Part I”.

Ponchielli originally composed the “Dance of the Hours” as the Act III finale of his most successful opera, La Gioconda. The music’s original context stands in stark contrast to its light-hearted reputation in the popular consciousness. Alvise, the head of the Inquisition, has invited the Venetian nobility to his palace, where he entertains them with this ballet depicting the eternal struggle between good and evil. At the conclusion of the performance, he reveals to the shocked revelers the dead body of his wife, whom he had sentenced to death by self-poisoning (condemning her to hell by making her death a suicide) as punishment for her infidelity.

The “Dance of the Hours” is structured in five parts, each representing a portion of the day: dawn, day, dusk, night, and the return of the morning. After a brief introduction, harp arpeggios introduce the shimmering string chords that herald the arrival of the dawn. Playful outbursts from the woodwinds punctuate these chords before introducing the famous daytime melody.

A modulation and a new staccato figure from the winds signal the setting of the sun and the transition to the evening hours. The daytime tune plays once more before a legato melody emerges in the cellos, which are featured prominently throughout the course of the night section. After a major-key sunrise in the strings, daytime returns as a boisterous can-can, which brings the “Dance of the Hours” to an energetic and crowd-pleasing conclusion.

– Chris Myers (edited)

This piece is a celebration of the bravery of trans women, and in particular, Marsha “Pay It No Mind” Johnson. Marsha is credited with being one of the instigators of the famous Stonewall uprising of June 28,1969 – one of the pivotal events of the LGBTQ liberation movement of the 20th century – which is commemorated annually during the worldwide Gay Pride celebrations. Existing as a trans woman, especially a trans woman of color, and daring to live authentically, creating space for oneself in a transphobic world is one of the bravest acts I can imagine. Over 20 trans women were murdered in the United States in 2018 alone. There is no demographic more deserving, and frankly, long overdue for highlighted heroism and bravery. The disco vibe in the latter half of the piece is meant to honor club culture, a sacred space held amongst LGBTQ persons in which to love, live, mourn, heal, strategize, connect, disconnect, and dance in defiance of those outside forces who would seek to do LGBTQ persons harm simply for daring to exist and take up space.

We pump our fists to honor the life, heroism, activism, and bravery of Marsha P. Johnson, to honor the legacy of the Stonewall revolution, to honor the memory of the trans lives violently ended due to fear and hatred, and in honor of trans women worldwide who continue to exist unapologetically and who demand to be seen.

Originally written by the composer as a teaching piece for his own euphonium students, Rhapsody for Euphonium is dedicated to the memory of the composer’s teacher, Leonard Falcone. Since its publication in 1978, Rhapsody for Euphonium has become a very important part of the euphonium literature, well represented as a standard of All-State solo literature throughout the United States.

This programmatic tone poem for Symphonic Band opens as Mount Pilatus slumbers at night, shrouded in darkness and mystery among the clouds high above Lucerne. As dawn breaks, a band of courageous adventurers climb Pilatus in search of dragons to slay. After an arduous journey filled with breathtaking views and terrestrial beauty, the adventurers finally stumble across a dragon lair. They awaken the mighty dragon who must now battle the intruders of his domain. All but one adventurer are mortally wounded leaving the pitiful human to beg for mercy and forgiveness from the dragon. Demonstrating great compassion, the dragon produces a magical stone, called the draconite, from his own wounds in order to heal and save the intruders. In doing so, the dragon has also placed compassion and tolerance in the hearts and minds of man leading them to a happy and peaceful co-existence with the dragons of Pilatus.

I had just moved from Arizona to New York City when I began sketching the first fragments of City Trees. After being born, growing up, and living in the desert for 25 years of my life, moving to New York so suddenly was and continues to be one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done. I think it has also been one of the bravest. I left my friends, my family, and my ridiculously cheap rent all without much planning.

Every time I walk down a street in New York, I notice the trees shackled by the sidewalk. Some have little fences around them, many have trash nestled up next to their exposed roots, and others have grown so big and become so strong that they have broken right through the concrete pavement. As I pass beneath them, they all seem to wave their leafy pom-poms in the wind, a thousand leaves applauding, cheering me on as if I had just returned from the moon.

These trees have learned how to brave the concrete jungle, and it gave me solace knowing that they had flourished in such a challenging environment. Over time, the impossibilities of the city have become familiar, and although I continue to learn new lessons everyday, I’ve slowly begun to assimilate, finding my way around, discovering new places, and making friends while still keeping close with those who aren’t close by. The music in City Trees began to take on a growing sense of perseverance, embodied by the expansive melodies that sweep over the pensive, rhythmic undercurrent.

For me, City Trees is a reflection of the bravery that it often takes to venture into new worlds, embrace other cultures, and lovingly encourage new ideas. I am deeply honored to dedicate this piece to the Lesbian and Gay Band Association. Although I may never completely understand the unique challenges my friends have faced and had to overcome, I am inspired by the overwhelming courage that has been so firmly planted for 30 years and that continues to grow, perhaps slowly, but always stronger.

A simple tune emerges from the silence.  The music grows.  The vibrant city is being rebuilt.  We hear the rhythms of the second line.  The musicians are returning to Jackson Square.  This time, to celebrate new life!

Come, thou Fount of every blessing,
tune my heart to sing thy grace;
streams of mercy, never ceasing,
call for songs of loudest praise.

Teach me some melodious sonnet,
sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
mount of thy redeeming love.

Composed as a sequel to the popular work Cry of the Unicorn (2011), this exciting and dramatic piece follows the continuing story of the mythical creature through adventures, danger, and triumph. Composed in a cinematic style, sweeping themes and rich scoring help make this a memorable work for the symphonic stage.

This imaginative work was conceived as the underscore to a fictional fireworks show. The opening section suggests the massive fireworks bursting in grand fashion as the music thrives on each explosion, feeding on energy in a frenzy of excitement. As one final firework explodes to blanket the sky in lights, the second section begins. This section is very impressionistic, depicting a stunning laser show with an array of colors and images. The final section is based on an infectious dance in 7/8 time. This musical celebration is both driving and playful, signifying the return of the fireworks. A coda section includes huge fanfares, forceful rhythms, and metallic sounds that welcome the grand finale while building to a dramatic conclusion. Absolutely amazing!