Charles H Ruggiero

Echoes of Piano Red, for flute, clarinet (doubling bass clarinet), and alto saxophone, 2006 (Show Program Notes)

Echoes of Piano Red, for flute, clarinet (doubling bass clarinet), and alto saxophone, 2006 (Close Program Notes)

Echoes of “Piano Red” - Flute, Clarinet (doubling Bass Clarinet), and Alto Saxophone
Echoes of “Piano Red” is a three-movement work inspired by the music of “Piano Red,” whom many consider to be jazz music’s preeminent composer. (“Piano Red” is one of the less-known nicknames of Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington.) While I have not tried to copy Ellington’s style in Echoes of “Piano Red,” listeners familiar with some of the music of the “Maestro”—drummer Louis Bellson’s appellation for Ellington—certainly may hear echoes of Ellington in this composition. Echoes, of course, can distort and even obscure an original sound, as in the extreme transformation that occurs when someone sings loudly in an immense walled space.
In much of the first movement of Echoes of “Piano Red,” the three musical protagonists (the flute, bass clarinet, and alto saxophone), create webs of more-or-less repeating patterns that are intended to create a sense of agitated forward momentum. Imagine three hurried travelers weaving in and out of each other’s paths, making progress, but occasionally getting a bit entangled.
“Anyone’s Dream,” the second movement, is rather dreamlike, in that its tempo and mood change somewhat frequently and capriciously. The harmonic language of “Anyone’s Dream” is more dissonant than that of the other two movements—an anxious dream, perhaps?
The middle section of “Play and Laugh,” the final movement of Echoes, is intended to sound something like a joyous and at times mirthful group-improvisation with at first two, and then all three, players improvising over tonal “changes” (jazz harmonies); however, none of the parts call for any actual improvisation—they all are fully notated. Each of the three parts should have its own distinct, relaxed, and spontaneous sounding “swing feel” (nuance of rhythmic interpretation).
Echoes of “Piano Red” was composed for the Eclectic Trio: Joanna White, flute, Kennen White, clarinet, and John Nichol, saxophone. Funding for this commission was provided by Central Michigan University. (July 2006)

Night Songs and Flights of Fancy, for alto saxophone and piano, 2005 (Show Program Notes)

Night Songs and Flights of Fancy, for alto saxophone and piano, 2005 (Close Program Notes)

Night Songs and Flights of Fancy - for Alto Saxophone and Piano (2005)
Night Songs and Flights of Fancy was written for Joseph Lulloff and Jun Okada, two immensely talented performers with whom I have had the good fortune to collaborate several times during the past two decades. In the music I’ve written for Joe and Jun, I have tried to exploit and enhance their unique synergy, especially the rhythmic energy and momentum that some of their best performances have.
Night Songs and Flights of Fancy is inspired by four songs and short instrumental pieces from the vast repertoire of American popular music and jazz of the 1930s and ‘40s—music that I’ve been interested in for most of my life and that continues to provide me with much enjoyment, especially when performed by masterful jazz improvisers. While the listener need not recognize hints of the four source works to comprehend and enjoy this composition, for those who are familiar with these mid twentieth-century popular songs and instrumental pieces, Nights Songs and Flights of Fancy may contain enriching associations, connections, and layers of meaning.
Each of the four movements of Night Songs and Flights of Fancy begins with more or less song-like material and is followed by freer and more complex music that develops the opening material but also introduces contrasting ideas, sometimes in ways that may seem fanciful, surprising, or even mildly perplexing.

Dance Compulsions, for alto saxophone, piano, winds, and percussion, 2004 (Show Program Notes)

Dance Compulsions, for alto saxophone, piano, winds, and percussion, 2004 (Close Program Notes)

Dance Compulsions - Concerto for Alto Saxophone, Piano, Winds, and Percussion (2004)

The instrumentation of the American "concert band" is not as standardized as that of the developed symphony orchestra. Rather than viewing this as a weakness, many composers and band conductors currently are enthusiastically exploring a full range of wind and percussion instrumentation possibilities. Today, a "band concert" at a major American university is likely to include music for small, uniquely configured chamber groups, works for massive symphonic ensembles, and compositions for bands that call for only one player per part. Dance Compulsions falls into the last of these three categories.

When John Whitwell, Director of Bands at Michigan State University, commissioned me to write a large work for the MSU Wind Symphony, he suggested that I write a concerto, but he gave me latitude to write for an ensemble consisting of virtually any combination of woodwind, brass, and percussion instruments. His only suggestion was that I consider writing for one player per part (that is, without the doubling of parts that is normal in performances of traditional band music). John Whitwell's concept of (or vision for) band literature is inclusive and adventuresome; consequently, during his tenure at Michigan State, he has commissioned a steady stream of works that runs the stylistic gamut. This concerto, Dance Compulsions, is my contribution to what might be termed the new flexible instrumentation and stylistic inclusiveness of American band music, a trend championed by conductors like John Whitwell.

My long and happy artistic association with Joseph Lulloff, who is both a friend and an MSU colleague, prompted me immediately to choose alto saxophone as one of the solo instruments for this concerto—-Joe's technique, musical intelligence, and emotional depth have inspired me in the past to write some of my most successful music. When Joe and I first discussed this project, we quickly decided that the piece should feature both Joe and Jun Okada, the very talented pianist whom Joe and I have had the good fortune to work with for some two decades. John Whitwell was quick to endorse our plan.

Dance Compulsions attempts to cultivate the supercharged energy that Lulloff-Okada performances often have. It is a 14-minute, one-movement work that consists of a long chain of short dance-like episodes the duration and sequence of which are calculated to create a sense of logically increasing momentum and inevitability of form. Although there are no conscious musical quotations in Dance Compulsions, the piece borrows from a number of traditional styles of popular twentieth-century North American, South American, and Caribbean dance music. The listener might think of the solo instruments of the concerto as representing two dancers who have an insatiable appetite to dance, mostly together, but sometimes as solo dancers; their compulsion to dance being a sometimes joyous, sometimes sensual, sometimes spontaneous, sometimes calculated, and sometimes desperate affirmation of life. (January 2004)

Dig: JSB-1, for saxophone quartet (sop., alt., ten., bar.), 2003 (Show Program Notes)

Dig: JSB-1, for saxophone quartet (sop., alt., ten., bar.), 2003 (Close Program Notes)

Dig: JSB-1, A Transmogrification of the 4th Movement of J. S. Bach's Sonata in G Minor for Violin Solo - for Saxophone Quartet (2003)

Commissioned by the Capitol Quartet

David Lewis, Baritone Saxophone
Joe Lulloff, Soprano Saxophone
Anjan Shah, Alto Saxophone
David Stambler, Tenor Saxophone

Dig: JSB-1 for saxophone quartet, is about confluence and transmogrification (defined in one dictionary as: a changing "into a different shape or form, especially one that is fantastic or bizarre"). Dig plausibly could be called an arrangement of the last movement of Bach's solo violin sonata in G minor. However, instead of arrangement or transcription, I use the word transmogrification to categorize this work, because in the second half of Dig the degree to which I've changed Bach's music, and the aesthetic criteria I have employed in making those changes, transform the work, in my view. What starts as an arrangement ends as a composition. Consequently, this work explores relationships between tradition and innovation, translation and creation, presentation and origination.

The Capitol Quartet's ability to play different styles of music extremely well, their capacity for making rapid yet coherent stylistic transformations during their performances, and their dedication to bringing a wide variety of rich and challenging music to their audiences, is inspiring. Shortly after the quartet's delightful performance at Michigan State University in February of 2003, Anjan Shaw, the Capitol Quartet's alto saxophonist, invited me to write a piece for the group's upcoming CD. After attending their MSU performance and discussing the commission with Anjan, it became clear to me that a serious goal of the Capitol Quartet is to enrich the repertoire of the saxophone quartet in innovative ways. Furthermore, they are committed to fashioning recital programs and recording projects that will infuse the performance of music from the baroque and classical periods of European art music with a vitality that is, in part, borrowed from jazz. In the Capitol Quartet's performances and recordings one finds an appealing convergence of classical music, popular American music, and jazz, a convergence that resonates with me.

In the fall of 2002, before hearing the Capitol Quartet's MSU performance and before Anjan raised the possibility of me writing something for the quartet, I had thought about writing a saxophone quartet based on the last movement of Bach's Sonata in G Minor for Violin Solo, a piece that I had played on marimba when I was Vic Firth's student at the New England Conservatory in the 1960s. I had enjoyed playing the piece, and neither I nor my teacher had any qualms about playing it on marimba—-after all, Bach himself had arranged a number of his works, including some for solo violin, for performance on other instruments!

One November or December morning, while listening to the local PBS FM radio station, I heard a recording of the Bach G-minor sonata and decided that I would enjoy turning it into a piece for saxophone quartet. I can't explain exactly why, but as I was listening to the broadcast, the piece seemed to beg to be "translated" into a saxophone quartet piece. However, being busy with other projects, I didn't begin writing the piece until after learning from Anjan that the Capitol Quartet was interested in doing a CD focusing on classical music, particularly the music of J. S. Bach, and that they wanted me to write something for the group. What a nice confluence of interests and opportunities!

The first part of the title of this composition, Dig, is a play on words. Everything in this piece is based, more or less, on Bach's violin sonata movement. Parts of the composition are little more than arrangements of chunks of Bach's solo violin music for saxophone quartet; however, in much of the quartet, Bach's melodic lines, rhythms, and implied harmonies are rearranged, deranged, displaced, elaborated upon, etc. I've transformed Bach's music in ways, some of which I hope are pleasantly unexpected, that reflect my interests in and experiences with jazz and twentieth-century European and American composition.

This kind of "borrowing" and metamorphosing has been done by many composers (Bach himself, Ives, Stravinsky, Berio, and many others), but some distinguished musicians have frowned upon the practice. Pierre Boulez, for example, in his essay "Bach's Moment," has characterized composers who have borrowed material from other composers as "grave robbers." I prefer to think of such borrowings as musical archaeology; hence my title Dig (as in archaeological dig). But since in this piece I'm attempting to transform Bach's violin piece, using, in part, jazz harmonies, instrumental techniques, and rhythmic concepts, the title also is intended to suggest that I "dig" (i.e., admire, like, respect, etc., in jazz parlance) Bach's music and would like, through the Capitol Quartet, to bring it to the attention of many performers and listeners who otherwise might not encounter it.

Dig: JSB-1 is dedicated to the memory of Theodore O. Johnson, who was my friend and colleague at Michigan State University for more than 30 years and who wrote two books on the music of J. S. Bach. (November 2003)

SizzleSax II, for tenor saxophone and percussion, 2001 (Show Program Notes)

SizzleSax II, for tenor saxophone and percussion, 2001 (Close Program Notes)

SizzleSax II - for Tenor Saxophone and Percussion (2001)

SizzleSax, the original version of this composition, was given its premiere by Joseph Lulloff at the 12th World Saxophone Congress in Montreal on July 8, 2000, at the University of Quebec's Salle Pierre-Mercure. In the original SizzleSax, the tenor saxophonist was called upon to play five cymbals by hand and at times to alternate rapidly between playing the saxophone and the cymbals—-both of which requirements, especially the former, proved to be problematic.

While Lulloff's brilliant performance of SizzleSax was received with some enthusiasm at the Congress, several of the saxophonists who heard (and saw) the premiere commented that they wouldn't even consider trying to learn the piece because of the possible stress and even serious injury to their hands that playing the cymbals might cause. Their concerns, unfortunately, were justified.

After playing SizzleSax at the Brevard Music Center later in the summer of 2000, Joseph Lulloff (who is both a Michigan State University colleague and close friend of mine) told me that as much as he had enjoyed playing the cymbals in his two performances of SizzleSax, the toll that these performances had taken on his hands was too great for him to continue playing the composition. Joe decided to cancel the Michigan premiere of SizzleSax, and I regretfully concurred. I certainly didn't want Joe's hands to be damaged playing my music. But having invested too much time and creative energy in SizzleSax to let it die such a quick death, I was determined to come up with a benign (at least non-injurious!) transformation of the composition that retained and further developed much of its original musical content—-even if some of SizzleSax's theatrics had to be sacrificed.

In July and August of 2001 SizzleSax II, the phoenix of SizzleSax, was reborn, still a work inspired by Joseph Lulloff, but now a duo for tenor saxophone and percussion. The original cymbals of SizzleSax have been augmented in SizzleSax II with other metallic instruments (triangles, sizzle-gong, and tam-tam) and various "skins" percussion instruments (bongos, tom-tom, congas, and bass drum). It is hoped that this new version may be performed without injury to either player. (August 12, 2001)

SizzleSax, for tenor saxophone and five cymbals played by the saxophonist, 2000 (Show Program Notes)

SizzleSax, for tenor saxophone and five cymbals played by the saxophonist, 2000 (Close Program Notes)

SizzleSax - for Tenor Saxophone and Five Cymbals (2000)

During my long musical association with Joseph Lulloff, I've been fascinated with and inspired by many aspects of his performer's talents, his musical personality, and his on-stage mannerisms. One of Joe's signatures as a saxophone soloist is his proclivity to move around while playing. Nearly at the very inception of this compositional project, I decided to write SizzleSax for tenor saxophone and cymbals, with the cymbals to be played by the saxophonist. The image of Joe playing the tenor saxophone, surrounded by, tapping, dodging, and sometimes colliding with cymbals of various sizes and timbres (some of which would be "sizzle" cymbals) was one of the first generating ideas of the composition.

Having a wind player play percussion instruments certainly is not a new idea, but as I began to think about writing this piece, I was excited by the possibilities of mixing the sounds of the tenor saxophone with those of cymbals. Particularly the diverse articulations, volumes, and washes of sound of a set of cymbals, combined with the many exotic timbral, articulative, and dynamic shadings of saxophone multiphonics, seemed to have much potential for the creation of quite distinctive (and even new) sax-cymbal textures, colors, rhythms, and gestures. It's my hope that the attentive listener will judge I've succeeded in realizing that potential.

SizzleSax is written in memory of John Coltrane, who, during his short but brilliant career, played many a sizzling solo. (March 2000; rev. June 2000)

Strayhorn, for alto saxophone and piano, 1999-2000 (concert arrangement, not published) (Show Program Notes)

Strayhorn, for alto saxophone and piano, 1999-2000 (concert arrangement, not published) (Close Program Notes)

STRAYHORN - A Concert Arrangement of Billy Strayhorn Compositions for Alto Saxophone and Piano (2000)

STRAYHORN was written for my friends Joseph Lulloff and Jun Okadaduring the seven days from December 26, 1999, to New Year's Day, 2000. Although I hadn't planned on spending that week writing music, when Joe asked me (late in November) to arrange "some jazz" for his appearance at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall on January 26, 2000, I just couldn't say no. The sponsors of Joe's recital, the New York Pro Musicis association, had suggested that he include some jazz on his program, and when Joe contacted me I immediately proposed an extended concert arrangement based on several songs and instrumental pieces of Billy Strayhorn. The choice of Strayhorn's music was easy; it was stimulated in part by my interest in Strayhorn's compositions and in part by Joe's admiration for the distinctive alto saxophone playing of Johnny Hodges, one of Strayhorn's colleagues in the Duke Ellington enterprise. (The attentive listener may recognize a brief reference to Strayhorn's musical tribute to Hodges, "Johnny Come Lately," at the very end of the arrangement.)

Although their emotional expressiveness and melodic beauty are quite captivating, it is the harmonic sophistication of Billy Strayhorn's compositions that is most intriguing to me. As José Hosiasson states in The New Grove Dictionary of Jazz, Strayhorn's "ballads . . . are harmonically and structurally among the most sophisticated in jazz." This sophistication is not surprising, considering the excellent early musical training that Strayhorn received, his intellectual curiosity, and his extraordinary gift for composition.

After spending nearly three decades as Duke Ellington's closest musical collaborator, Billy Strayhorn died somewhat in the shadow of jazz's greatest composer and bandleader. During his lifetime, some of Strayhorn's music, like the well-known theme song of Ellington's band, "Take the 'A' Train," was assumed by many to be Duke's work. But recently a number of performers and scholars have begun to better understand the significance of Strayhorn's contributions to Ellington's output and to reappraise Strayhorn's independent work.

This arrangement for alto saxophone and piano of Strayhorn works is intended to pay homage to Billy Strayhorn by helping to bring his music to the recital stage. It's my hope that in this piece two different performance practices (one involving improvisation, the other not) are blended effectively, resulting in a work that can be presented convincingly by musicians who are at ease with fully notated "art music" but not averse to improvisation. This approach seems appropriate, since Strayhorn was rooted in the traditions of both jazz and European "classical" music.

He was my listener, my most dependable appraiser, and as a critic he would be the most clinical, but his background--both classical and modern--was an accessory to his own good taste and understanding, so what came back to me was in perfect balance.

Duke Ellington (from his autobiography, Music Is My Mistress)

STRAYHORN is based on the following compositions (listed in order of their appearance in the arrangement):

Day Dream (Ellington/Strayhorn, 1941)

Rain Check (Strayhorn, 1942)

A Flower Is a Lovesome Thing (Strayhorn, 1941)

Blood Count (Strayhorn, 1967)

Upper Manhattan Medical Group--also known as "U.M.M.G." (Strayhorn, 1956)

Take the "A" Train (Strayhorn, 1941)

Johnny Come Lately (Strayhorn, 1942)
(December, 2000)

Concerto for Soprano Saxophone and Orchestra, 1995, rev. 1999 (Show Program Notes)

Concerto for Soprano Saxophone and Orchestra, 1995, rev. 1999 (Close Program Notes)

Concerto for Soprano Saxophone and Orchestra (1995)

Concerto for Soprano Saxophone and Orchestra is the culmination to date of my long creative association with the remarkable saxophone artist Joseph Lulloff, for whom I have written several chamber works, and with whom I have performed jazz on many occasions. It was Joe's "voice" as a saxophonist (especially the timbral qualities of his soprano saxophone playing), his prodigious technique, and his rich musicality that in no small part instigated this composition.

If a work of art cannot but reflect the time, place, and persona—-not to mention the innermost self—-of its creator, then what does this composition reflect? Certainly this concerto is an "American" product, not only because its composer is a native of the United States, but largely because it contains many intended stylistic references to various kinds of American music, especially to jazz. The study of this unique American musical idiom has been a preoccupation of mine for much of the past 40 years, and it is my intention to continue to try to find and develop in my compositions significant and subtle connections between jazz and other kinds of music that I am interested in.

Composers now, at the end of the twentieth century, have a rich legacy of music that has in one way or another combined jazz elements with non-jazz elements: the music of Ellington, Still, Gershwin, Copland, Bernstein, Nancarrow, Schuller, Coleman, Reich, and many others. For those of us who care about the art of jazz and who are compelled to explore new territory in our compositions, it is a bit daunting to think of all that already has been accomplished by such luminaries as Ellington, and all that, with decidedly mixed results, has been attempted by others.

Some attentive listeners may hear this concerto as teetering on the brink of atonality, or, viewed from the other side of the divide, tonality. This ambiguity is intended, and in no small part, I suppose, reflects some of the ambiguities and teeterings of my culture and my particular existence. Concerto for Soprano Saxophone and Orchestra might be thought of as a latter-day third-stream work (perhaps "neo-third-stream" would pigeonhole it too succinctly!), but unlike such third-stream compositions as Gunther Schuller's Concertino for Jazz Quartet and Orchestra (1959), which combine small-group improvisational tonal jazz with composed post-World War II atonal orchestral techniques, this concerto, in part, attempts to integrate late-'50s "free-jazz" linear harmony (anti-harmony?) with an eclectic orchestral style that references mostly pre-World War II American and European music.

It could be argued that this concerto has a fairly conventional tonal structure: namely, in the simplest of terms, that it begins in E minor and ends in G major. There's something to this analytical distillation, but not much. While I was conceiving and developing this composition, it was rhythmic matters (including large-scale temporal relationships) that dominated my musings on the structural landscape of the work.

The title "ST*IT*T" derives from "stasis—-interpolation—-transformation," a formulation which describes the main formal process of the first of the concerto's four movements. After a brief introduction that presents certain fundamental motivic, harmonic, and timbral materials for the concerto, two "ideas" (i.e., linear-textural-gestural-harmonic building blocks), one primarily in the bassoons, piano, and low strings, the other in a "concertino" group consisting of soprano saxophone, piccolo, flute, and marimba, are each stated several times. These iterations create stasis at one structural level, even as they create motion on the "surface" of the music. Gradually, interpolated brass interjections break down the two "stasis ideas," leading to an extended interpolation, a cadenza for saxophone, brass and percussion instruments, flute, and clarinet. After this disintegration, the two stasis ideas (i.e., the bassoon-piano-low strings and concertino materials) return but are harmonically and timbrally transformed. Much of the momentum of this movement, ironically, is created by the cumulative effect of the repeating stasis ideas; for this effect to come off as intended, the stasis ideas must be performed with graceful and elegant precision.

"ST*IT*T," of course, also pays homage to the jazz saxophonist Sonny Stitt, who, like many bebop masters, used interpolation (quotations of popular tunes, personal motives and figures, themes from "classical" music, fragments of famous improvised solos, etc.) as a structural device in his improvisations, sometimes to break the tension, often in a humorous way, of an intense solo flight.

The second movement, "Antique Sentiments," uses suspensions, shifting and unexpected accents, and other rhythmic, textural, and harmonic devices to create a blur suggestive of the blurred emotions and memories of distant events. The harmony of this movement is highly chromatic but explicitly tonal throughout.

Perhaps the most subtle elements of classic jazz are "swing" (characteristic rhythmic inflections) and the complex layering of rhythms which occurs in almost all masterly jazz performances. All of the components, for example, of a standard jazz quartet performance (the soloist's improvised melodies, the "comping" in the piano or guitar, the "walking" bass line, and the "time" and rhythmic counterpoint expressed via the drum set), rely on the steady pulse of the composite rhythm-section part and the typically uniform meter and regular harmonic changes of the song or blues form which serves as a foundation for the music. In jazz performances at the highest level of artistry, what may at first glance seem to be a simplistic and well-worn format is actually an efficient springboard for an extremely variable and nuanced mix of improvised swing, syncopation, rubato, polyrhythm, and what might be called "time shifting"—-a mix that is well perceived and fully appreciated by only the most experienced and astute listeners. Jazz rhythm, especially in jazz from the 1920s through the 1960s (and much music created since the 1960s which is closely related to classic jazz styles), reflects a uniquely urban American sense of time. Much of jazz rhythm echoes the complex bustle of activity experienced in many American cities and the speech rhythms and conversational pacing of urban Americans, especially of urban African Americans.

"Time Shifts—-Remembrances," the last of the concerto's movements, attempts to develop, in an orchestral setting, something like the layering of rhythms referred to above. While the score of "Time Shifts—-Remembrances" calls for no improvisation and no "swing" interpretation of written melodic lines by the soloist or orchestral players, various textures in the movement are developed in which the rhythms of some melodic lines are shifted ahead of or behind the prevailing meter in a way that may sound loose or even somewhat chaotic. This time shifting has an emotional parallel in the human psyche; the multitude of memories that we accumulate during our lives, many of which refer to strongly felt experiences, are recalled from time to time, in confusing, lucid, playful, ironic, orderly, random, pleasing or painful successions. These recollections sometimes overlap with each other, and one remembrance may dissolve into another. I view this as a kind of time shifting; a human ability that, among other things, may help us to cope with lost or keenly anticipated opportunities, triumphs and defeats of the past, and uncertainties of the future. (October 28, 1995)

Interplay, for soprano saxophone and piano, 1988 (Dorn Publications, Inc.) (Show Program Notes)

Interplay, for soprano saxophone and piano, 1988 (Dorn Publications, Inc.) (Close Program Notes)

Interplay - for Soprano Saxophone and Piano (1988)

This composition for soprano saxophone and piano was written during the period of July 1987 through April 1988 and was one of three works commissioned by saxophonists Joseph Lulloff, Allen Rippe, and Cynthia Sikes as part of a 1987-89 National Endowment for the Arts Consortium Commissioning Project sponsored by Tulane University. William Russo and Ralph Shapey, the two other composers who participated in the project, were commissioned to write compositions that feature the alto saxophone.

* * *

Interplay is in three movements: "Octaves," "Night Song," and "Departures." The title "Interplay" refers to the sometimes playful, sometimes combative, interactions that occur between the saxophone and piano parts throughout the composition, but especially in the work's outer movements.

In the first and second movements of Interplay two essentially distinct sets of musical materials are presented; in the third movement these two sets of materials are synthesized and transformed. The use, in the first two movements, of certain stylistic models and materials borrowed from modern jazz is confirmed in the final movement as it departs from its opening style and moves toward a blatantly boppish idiom.

"Octaves" is organized into seven main sections. Passages consisting of spun-out generative lines in octaves (i.e., with perfect octave or multiple-octave doublings between the saxophone and piano parts and between the two hands of the piano part) occur three times over the course of the movement and collectively serve as a source of materials for the movement's other sections.

Both perfect octaves and augmented octaves figure conspicuously in the melodic and harmonic palette of the first movement, and "Octaves" begins and ends with a juxtaposition of these two intervals. In the second and the sixth sections of the movement, perfect octaves are used prominently in the eighteenth-century derived accompaniment figures of the piano part. The classical keyboard style of these two sections serves as a foil to the volatile jazz "comping" that dominates the middle of the movement.

"Night Song" is an atmospheric "after-hours tune" in a harmonic style that is more explicitly tonal than that of "Octaves." Jazz-like pitch and timbre inflections, which for the most part are absent from the first movement, are introduced in "Night Song" and then are used more prominently in "Departures," the final movement of the work.

The form of "Departures" is the result of a process in which tempos, textures, repetitive figurations, harmonic progressions, etc. are established and then negated in ways so as to set up arrival points at new musical territories. "Departures" might be thought of as a voyage that ultimately takes the listener back to the two primary musical environments out of which were generated the materials of the first two movements: namely, the milieu of modern jazz (especially bop and bop-related jazz), and that of the neoclassic music of Igor Stravinsky. (June 6, 1989)

Dances and Other Movements, for violin, alto saxophone, and piano, 1983, rev. 1984 (Dorn Publications, Inc.) (Show Program Notes)

Dances and Other Movements, for violin, alto saxophone, and piano, 1983, rev. 1984 (Dorn Publications, Inc.) (Close Program Notes)

Dances and Other Movements - for Violin, Alto Saxophone, and Piano (1983)

Dances . . . is a suite of nine short movements three of which are solos: "Soliloquy" (for saxophone), "Interlude" (for piano), and "Violin Tune" (featuring, of course, violin). In several of the movements, especially in the dances, simple ostinatos and more-or-less familiar meters and rhythms are employed. In the last movement, "Finale," motives, themes, and other elements of the first eight movements are juxtaposed and further developed.

Although Dances and Other Movements is partially based on a 12-tone set, the style of this composition is indebted primarily to such diverse sources as the music of Bartok and Stravinsky, Latin-American popular music, traditional and modern jazz, and Eastern-European folk music.

The 12-tone set of Dances . . . is derived from part of the melody of a well-known jazz "standard"; this borrowing is a hidden tribute to one of the leading creative forces of modern jazz.

In Dances and Other Movements I have explored and tried to integrate contrasting rhythmic styles. Extensive portions of this composition are notated in "traditional" meters . . . , and the beat in these passages is often very easily distinguishable. In several movements, however, the beat is sometimes obscured by a variety of non-traditional rhythmic techniques and notational devices. It is hoped that the listener will hear transformations or "modulations" from one rhythmic style to another in certain passages; the most extended example of rhythmic transformation in this work can be heard in "Finale."

The basic 12-tone set of Dances and Other Movements is rotated (i.e., systematically reordered) and otherwise used rather freely throughout the composition. Less primitive than the 12-tone structure of this work is its use of registral and timbral constants as prime referential elements. Pitch classes tend to be associated with only one or two specific octave locations in each of the three instruments. It is hoped that the listener will perceive and, without much special effort, aurally remember the registral locations of pitch classes and that this will enhance the listener's understanding and enjoyment of the work. (1983)

Three Blues for Saxophone Quartet, (sop., alt., ten., bar.), 1981 (Dorn Publications, Inc.) (Show Program Notes)

Three Blues for Saxophone Quartet, (sop., alt., ten., bar.), 1981 (Dorn Publications, Inc.) (Close Program Notes)

Three Blues for Saxophone Quartet (1981)

Three Blues for Saxophone Quartet was composed in 1981 for James Forger and the Michigan State University Saxophone Quartet. Stylistic and formal elements from traditional jazz are pervasive in this work, but Three Blues is virtually devoid of improvisation except that the performers are expected, in much of the work, to play the given notes, rhythms, and dynamics in a style that sounds improvisational. A fine performance of Three Blues will capture the spirit of good jazz improvisation.

The structure of Three Blues is an arch form in three movements. The central movement is the longest and most complex of the three. After a brief introduction, the second movement begins with a "neo-bop" section featuring the alto and tenor saxophones. After the first statement of a short ritornello that punctuates the second movement, an extended contrapuntal passage leads to the apex of the arch for the entire composition, after which a variant of the "neo-bop" section ends the movement.

Both of the framing movements are shorter and lighter in style than the second. The first movement, marked "Charliechaplinesque," evokes the enthusiastic and lighthearted mood of some '20s and '30s jazz (although it uses the harmonic and rhythmic style of more modern jazz). Movement I is based on a repeated harmonic progression that is systematically shortened and then restored to its original length as the movement evolves. This progression is derived in part from the first two measures of the third movement (incidentally, these measures of the third movement contain the first ideas to be composed for the entire composition).

The last movement ("relaxed but not sloppy"!) caricatures, in a friendly way, some blues idioms that jazz enthusiasts will recognize easily. Two functions of this movement are to provide an architectonic balance to the first movement, and to develop some of the rhythmic ideas of the previous two movements. In this last movement, although the prevailing meter is 4/4, beats frequently get displaced, lengthened, or shortened by unexpected durations creating, it is hoped, a controlled elasticity of meter and tempo. The wellsprings of these rhythmic ideas are jazz and, to a lesser extent, the music of Igor Stravinsky. (1981; rev. in 2000)

Jazz Compositions and Arrangements, (ca. 75 works), 1965-2006

Compositions: Saxophone Music