This blog is devoted to my wind band recording library, something I have been amassing for the past 30 years. Today, though, I wanted to talk about a presentation I am developing for 2023. In my conducting classes at TAMUCC, I start each semester asking the question, "What is a conductor?" The students in front of me are seasoned music majors, so they say "a leader" or describe the duties of the job: cuing, time keeping, dynamics. Then I prod further. But what does it mean to conduct? They rarely answer beyond technical demands. So I launch into my thoughts...
The most obvious answer to the first question is a leader. This is one of the first definitions you will find in a dictionary. But certainly there is more to it than that, right? Why the word conductor? And where else do we use that term? So I ask the students: If I were to go to the student center and ask a random student what they think of when they hear the word "conductor," how do you think they would reply? Almost always, someone says "a train conductor." So how does what we do compare to a train conductor? This question is a tricky one. A particularly thoughtful student might answer, "A train conductor drives the train from one place to another." What are the one place and the other, I ask. "They deliver the music to the audience." I start with this narrative to illustrate my developing philosophy, one I must develop into said presentation this fall. Conductors are not delivering music to the audience. Instead, we are delivering the music to the performers. The performers are our communicators. Think of it this way: score study informs the conductor's interpretation of the music. Hours of rigorous work develops an indelible aural picture of the music, the intent of the composer. The conductor is now on their island, alone, ready to spread the joy of the music. That is when the players enter. They are across the vast sea, unaware of the conductor's interpretation, the composer's intent. They (hopefully) know their parts but may not be aware of how those parts fit into the whole. And even if they do, they will not know the score in the same way the conductor does. So the conductor takes the musical interpretation and delivers it - conducts it - to the players. It is not a matter of waving arms at the players. That is one method of conducting music. But there is another definition of "conductor" that changed my view of the art. And that will be the subject of my next post.
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In a previous post, I described some of my experiences at Northern Illinois University. It was during that time - starting around 1992 - that I began collecting wind band recordings. The first purchases were the CD rereleases of the classic Mercury recordings of the Eastman Wind Ensemble conducted by Frederick Fennell. Around that time, Eugene Corporon was just starting his now-extensive wind recording project with the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music Wind Symphony. The Fennell discs featured standard repertoire; Corporon focused on contemporary repertoire. So these series complemented each other nicely.
Back to Dekalb. Each semester, the conductor of NIU Wind Ensemble would post all of the literature for the semester. The list for Spring 1993 included Aspen Jubilee by Ron Nelson. On a trip to Chicago with the Wind Ensemble to perform at the Chicago Cultural Center (an absolute fish bowl where we performed the Giannini Symphony), I broke away and visited the three-story Rose Records downtown. It was there that I found my first CCM Wind Symphony disc, Hearts Music. The recording featured the Nelson along with another piece the NIU group would perform the following semester, The Winds of Nagual by Michael Colgrass. I was thrilled at the find and could not wait to listen to the album. Hearts Music is a dazzling recording. It was one of the earliest recordings in the series, and it displays a polish and precision that would continue throughout the years. The difference between this and some other of Corporon's recordings is the passion and excitement in the playing. The combination of precision and passion creates an invaluable resource for band directors and music lovers. There is not a weak piece in the program, which is: Hearts Music by David Diamond Concerto for 23 Winds by Walter Hartley Ronald Searle Suite by Lyn Murray Winds of Nagual by Michael Colgrass Aspen Jubilee by Ron Nelson It is a somewhat unusual program, to be sure. The only one that I would consider a "classic" (at the time of its release, 1990) is Hartley's Concerto for 23 Winds. The rest are either newer or more obscure, in the case of the Ronald Searle Suite. But each piece is a gem in its own unique way. This recording opened my eyes to the possibilities inherent in the concert band medium, at a time when I knew very little and had heard even less. And it was probably the first best recording I had purchased, surpassing the others in my modest collection up to that point. It remains near the top of the list. The combination of outstanding performance and dynamic repertoire make this an album I recommend to this day. Where it could not be determined back in 1990 if the newer pieces on this album would endure, time has proven kind to all three of them. The opening work, Hearts Music, is highly sophisticated. David Diamond's orchestration is delightful, combining winds and percussion in beguiling ways. As the program note indicates, the piece was written after his other, larger band work, Tantivity, the one that would seemingly be more significant due to its larger scope. Hearts Music, though, is the far better work. I cannot say with confidence that it has become more popular than Tantivity; however, Hearts Music's focus and compactness creates an indelible intensity, and CCM and Corporon provide an impressive interpretation. The second of the newer works is Winds of Nagual by Michael Colgrass. It is a programmatic work based on the writings of new age guru Carlos Castaneda, whose doctoral thesis is based on his experiences studying hallucinogenic drugs. If you are reading this blog, I probably do not need to go into too many details about such a seminal work, so I won't. (If you have not read Castaneda's early writings, though, I recommend you do so. They profoundly illuminate the music and show just how brilliantly Colgrass captured the prose.) It is one of my favorites of all time, and it stands tall in the pantheon of groundbreaking works for the wind band medium, alongside Music for Prague, ...and the mountains rising nowhere, and A Child's Garden of Dreams. Incidentally, but perhaps not coincidentally, all of these masterpieces were either the first work for band by these composers, or in the case of the Maslanka, the third piece. I have acquired other recordings of Winds of Nagual over the years, including Colgrass conducting the U.S. Marine Band. But none has captured my imagination like CCM. Maybe it is nostalgia, which is becoming pretty powerful at my age. Great playing is great playing, though. And I LOVE this interpretation. The last of the three new works was Aspen Jubilee, a fairly typical Ron Nelson overture in the vein of his "holidays" and "sojourns." That does not diminish its genius. This could also be chalked up to nostalgia as it was one of the first pieces I played in the top group at NIU. That does not give the music or the performers enough credit. Corporon and his producers create just the right amount of reverberation to allow the music shimmer with its ample metallic percussion. They are equally successful with the balance between the ensemble and the soprano vocalist. Some recordings treat the voice part as a soloist; others imagine it in the distance, a memory or dream. It is clear in the score that Nelson wants the vocalist to be part of the ensemble, sitting on-stage among the ensemble. And that is how Corporon treats it. To my ear, it is the right approach and the one that produces a beautiful, heart-wrenching slow section. Like the Colgrass, this is my favorite recording of Aspen Jubilee. I originally started this blog with the intention of exploring my collection of wind band recordings from the 1990s. I fell in love with so many of those recordings, so I listened to them repeatedly. A number of them are burned into my mind's ear, so I feel comfortable writing about them. As I prepare for the Fall 2022 semester, I am listening to different recordings of works on the repertoire list. One of those is Sensemayá by Mexican composer Silvestre Revueltas. That led me to this post's recording, Latin Landscapes by the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music Wind Orchestra from 2013. I purchased it at the most recent Texas Music Educators Association Convention and was impressed by the choice of music and the performances. There is a lot to praise on this recording, which features a variety of styles. The program is: One of the niftiest elements of the album is the cover art, with its vibrant colors and abstract images, appropriately capturing the spirit of the music. The recording includes three original works and two transcriptions; of the latter, one was originally for piano, the other for voice and piano.
The album opens with the work I am studying, Sensemayá by Revueltas. This Frank Bencriscutto transcription is a classic, one of the warhorses that is currently only available to rent. Fortunately, G. Schirmer sold the work for many years, so there are sets in many libraries out there should rental be cost prohibitive. (I do not have a band budget at my school, so I was fortunate to have access to a library that has the work.) This is a fine performance of an oft-programmed work; the tuba and trumpet soloists avail themselves well. The tempo is steady and menacing, never becoming overcooked and evoking the danger of the snake of the title. A solid, reliable performance of a transcription that is able to both honor the orchestral original and sound idiomatic for the wind band medium. The remainder of the works were new to me. The second selection, Tramonto by Spanish composer Luis Alarcón, is cinematic as it evokes a modern film soundtrack. The elegiac work (subtitled Romanza) oozes pathos and utilizes the solo cello wonderfully. If there is one drawback, the music does not live up to its enchanting opening. It loses its intensity and takes on a wandering quality. Even so, this is a fine recording of a unique new work that pair cello with wind band, something that has become more common in the past few decades. Speaking of unique, Hudson Nogueira's Brasileirismos No. 2 creates myriad sounds utilizing symphonic band and solo flute. As I relisten to it now, distinct sections are not always obvious. The first seven minutes are rhapsodic, leading to a lopsided groove that is handled with expert precision by the CCM players. The program notes indicate there are three dances in the piece, each from a different region of Brazil. I applaud Noqueira in being able to unify them without sounding like a medley. The tempo is moderate throughout, a mild drawback in a piece somewhat substantial length (almost 14 minutes). This is a minor squabble in a work with so much going for it. The fourth work caught my attention the most when I first listened to the CD. Enrique Granados' Tonadillas are arranged by Ralph Ford. I knew Ralph Ford as a composer and arranger for young band and marching band. Little did I know how sophisticated Mr. Ford's writing, or in this case arranging, could be. This arrangement includes four of the original 12 songs from the cycle. What is most striking are the colors Ford is able to create from the original piano score. The ensemble never intrudes on the soprano soloist, Melisa Bonetti. (Side note: Ms. Bonetti does a fine accounting of the songs, though I would have been just as happy integrating the voice part into the ensemble to better showcase the stellar wind writing.) Especially effective are Mr. Ford's use of flute, clarinet and harp throughout. That being said, it seems that all instruments are given moments to shine, such as the trumpet in the second movement and the bassoon in the third. The fourth movement, El majo discreto, is a lovely waltz that is well-paced by Glenn Price, with just the right amount of push and pull. The Granados is the highlight of the disc. The album closes with a work of larger intensity and scope, bookending nicely with the Revueltas. Suite No. 2 by Colombian composer Victoriano Rincón begins with a funeral march reminiscent of the first movement of Berlioz's Symphonie funebre et triomphal, albeit 15 minutes shorter. The music builds in volume and intensity for the first three minutes before breaking into intensely rhythmic passages. As with the preceding works, the CCM ensemble performs with aplomb. In some ways, the Rincón is the most traditional work on the album. The three movements follow a fairly typical intense-relaxed-intense structure. This would normally be fast-slow-fast, but the composer substitutes a jaunty 6/8 dance for a ballad in the middle movement (Bambuco), though it serves the similar purpose of a respite between the more intense outer movements. The final movement is, predictably but hardly predictable, highly rhythmic, alternating 3/4 and 6/8 (a la Bernstein's America), interspersing it with beautiful lyrical passages. Like the Alarcón, this is movie music in the best way and an excellent way to close out the performance. This is a piece I would gladly program with my ensemble. Sometimes it is good to introduce fresh sounds when listening to music, and Latin Landscapes did that for me. I was drawn to Sensemaya but discovered new works with unique sound palettes. While I cannot say they all would make my regular listening rotation or make it onto one of my programs, all are worthy additions to the repertoire. I was drawn to the Granados and Rincón, and I would encourage others to explore this album. |
AuthorBrian Shelton, DOB Archives
July 2022
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