An enigmatic folk song

The National Park Series; The Sounds of Shenandoah; Randy Petersen, composer

Dr. Eph Ely conducted the South Dakota Honors Choir in July of 1982. He compiled an outstanding program for our end-of-the-week concert. To this day, some of my favorite choral anthems come from the repertoire that Dr. Ely chose for our ensemble. “Oh, Shenandoah”, an American folk song arranged by James Erb, played romance with each of us in the choir with its quiet unison lines, transitioning to deep, rich chords that underpin the magnificent, yet lonely, melody and inevitably bringing the outside to the inside with an enterprising section where the first sopranos, second sopranos and altos create an echo effect with the melody. It was one of the greatest four minutes of my life.

Nobody really knows where the folk song originated. Nor does anyone know the exact point of view of the rover-lover who originally sang the song. Is it a man or a woman? Is the object of affection a man or a woman? Or does he or she miss the Shenandoah River? Maybe he or she misses living in Shenandoah, Iowa. The words don’t provide enough information. But, know this: Someone misses someone, or something, passionately:

Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,

And hear your rolling river,

Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,

Away, we’re bound away

Across the wide Missouri

__________

I long to see your smiling valley

And Hear your rolling river,

I long to see your smiling valley

Away, we’re bound away

Across the wide Missouri

__________

‘Tis seven long years since last I’ve seen you

And hear your rolling river

‘Tis seven long years since last I’ve seen you

Away, we’re bound away

Across the wide Missouri

I suppose that the lack of details lends an element of charm and tender sentiment to our lovestruck roamer’s pinings. It reminds me of the telephone shtick of Bob Newhart where he plays the world’s first solo “straight man” in which the audience only hears one side of a telephone conversation. It seems to me, here, that we don’t get to hear the answer to a splendidly written love letter.

Mom, Uncle D. and Aunt J. came to visit me in Annapolis, Maryland, in September of 1999. I was preparing to fry some homemade chicken flautas in my wok when Mom called me from the parking lot right outside my apartment to announce their arrival. Forgetting to turn down the fire under my vegetable oil-laden wok, I ran outside to receive my guests. Forty-five seconds later, I returned to my kitchen to find, as you can imagine, the doorway to hell emanating from the bottom of my wok, welcoming my visitors with pitchforks of blaze and the pungent redolence of Hades. Don’t worry. We put out the fire. Nobody got hurt. My wok was scorched, as was my pride. But the flautas were delicious.

During their visit, we took a sojourn on Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park in western Virginia. We found a spot from which we could watch the sunset and drink in the peace and stillness of Shenandoah Valley’s tranquility. Recalling the song, I thought to myself, Yeah, if I came from here, I would miss this – probably enough to write a song.

Credits: To the people who make impassioned pleas on behalf of our National Parks to the U.S. Congress. Your work is so important. Thank you.

More Beethoven!

The Complete Sonatas for Piano and Cello; Ludwig van Beethoven, composer; Yo-Yo Ma, cello; Emanuel Ax, piano

I don’t have a story today. But I love Beethoven’s Sonatas for Piano and Cello. They rock my world.

Credits: To you, again, dear reader. I can’t believe you’ve held on for as long as you have. I’m thankful that you have. And I’m thankful that you do.

A White House dance

The Best of the Song Books; Ella Fitzgerald

A funny story: On July 7, 1976, the White House held a State Dinner for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness Prince Philip as part of the bicentennial celebration of the American Revolution. As always, “The President’s Own” United States Marine Band assumed their place to provide musical support for the very elgant affair.

In all of the shuffle, the White House powers what be didn’t make arrangements for any special song, or even any special time, for the special dance of the President and Queen Elizabeth. More than likely, the conductor of the Marine dance orchestra assumed that he would receive a heads up when the President prepared to dance with Her Majesty. Nope. No heads up.

Right in the middle of a tune, with no warning, the President led Queen Elizabeth out onto the dance floor and proceeded to dance. And to the conductor’s, and everyone else’s, horror, he realized the predicament that he and his fellow Marines were in: They were playing Cole Porter’s “The Lady Is A Tramp”.

It might have been that nobody even noticed the faux pas, except that one of the newspapers included it in their headlines the next morning. The director of the Marine Band received a stern phone call from the White House that day: The song “The Lady Is A Tramp” is hereby banned from performance at the White House. Period. Amen. As you were.

In December of 1990, at my first audition with “The President’s Own”, they handed me a list of songs. “Pick a song from the list and play it in a cocktail piano style.” I looked at the list, saw “The Lady Is A Tramp” as a choice and started playing it. One of the Marines on the audition committee walked out from behind the screen, approached the piano, stopped me and said, “Let me see that list.” After a quick perusal, he called out, “Yeah, it’s on here”. I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? “Not here, but if you would have been at the White House, they would have sent you home.”

Nobody … I say, nobody … sends home Miss Fitzgerald when she sings “The Lady Is A Tramp”.

Credits: To Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II, for nearly sixty years as the British Monarch. Your majesty, you exude class and reign with sophistication and grace. God Save The Queen.

I am three-quarters of the way through!

Rock This Town

The Dirty Boogie; The Brian Setzer Orchestra; Brian Setzer, guitar and vocals

I remember hearing “Rock This Town” by the Stray Cats during my high school years. They played it a lot in the gym during noon. I didn’t think much of the song then; not my style. But I’ve warmed to it over the years. There’s a lot of excitement there.

But that ain’t nothin’ compared to the hip and crazy meter reading you get from the version that Brian Setzer and his orchestra put out on "The Dirty Boogie". If the Stray Cats were in third gear with this song in the 80’s, Setzer has revved it up to sixth gear for this recording and then kicks it into overdrive before they call it a party at the end.

I really dig the retro aspect. “This Old House” reminds me of Rosemary Clooney. Santo and Johnny’s “Sleep Walk”, a steel-guitar instrumental from 1959, certainly influenced an inspired performance on this CD. Mr. Setzer received a Grammy Award in 1998 for Best Pop Instrumental Performance for it.

Brian Setzer’s take on “Jump, Jive ‘n Wail” gets its cue from the chart by Louis Prima, Keely Smith and Sam Butera. Of course, Sam Butera played this song many times during my tenure with his band. Setzer plays it practically note for note from Louis and Sam's version.

Sometimes, Sam’s regular trumpet player, F., couldn’t make it to one of our jobs. So, the trumpet player who had the job before F., K., filled in. Interestingly enough, K. plays trumpet with Brian Setzer’s band.

In season five of “The Nanny”, Brian Setzer and his orchestra make an appearance on episode three called “The Bobbie Flekman Story”. K. gets a speaking part. You can see him checking out the food here.

Credits: To Brian Setzer, for making music BIG.

Liturgy or no liturgy?

Credo; Sergei Rachmaninoff, Krzysztof Penderecki, Igor Stravinsky, Sir Andrzej Panufnik, composers; Choir of King's College, Cambridge; Stephen Cleobury

When I took up with Presbyterians in 2004, I did so with a leap of faith. I had seldom worshipped the living God without the security of a liturgy. For almost forty years, I walked the weekly Lutheran garden path of careful praise, sensible adoration and abstemious reverence, imparting the all too familiar nod to the Kyrie, Sanctus and Gradual stones that lined the trail.

Although, I must confess that, during the last few months leading up to my new commission at Wallace Presbyterian Church, my mind wandered easily as I sang the same music, muttered the routine prayer response – even concentrated on concentrating during the Lord’s Prayer so that I could mean what I was saying … praying. It got to the point where I frequently thought to myself, Does church need to be this difficult? Is it this exhausting for everybody else? Are the believers that surround me truly honoring God the way that they think they are, or are they merely taking another rough and tumble through the habitual Sunday morning routine that follows toast and juice?

At the bottom of my leap of faith was a refreshing pool of candor in worship and revitalization of my exercise in praise and devotion to God. Last week, we called for worship with a Psalm and confessed our sins corporately. This week, Isaiah gave us reason to convene and we disclosed our transgressions in silence. What will happen next week? I don’t know. But I haven’t catnapped in a liturgy-induced Christian coma for quite a while.

King’s College Choir in Cambridge, England, in their CD titled “Credo”, presents a power-house eclectic Eastern European “Dream Team” liturgy experience. Bookending the virtual church worship ceremony with selections from Sergei Rachmaninoff’s “Vespers” and the “Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom”, director Stephen Cleobury chose plainchant to separate Krzysztof Penderecki’s “Cherubic Hymn” and “Agnus Dei”, Igor Stravinsky’s “Ave Marie” and “Credo” and Sir Andrzej Panufnik’s “Song to the Virgin Mary”. I can hear, in these pieces, the reverence that each of these composers hold for their God. But the music isn’t always for everyone. Sometimes one man’s praise is another man’s misery.

I know better than to completely buck the Lutheran liturgy. Although there is only one true God, there are various ways to praise Him. C.S. Lewis wrote in favor of a liturgy-laced service, claiming that worshippers

go to use the service, or if you prefer, to enact it. Every service is a structure of acts and words through which we receive a sacrament, or repent, or supplicate, or adore. And it enables us to do these thing best – if you like, it “works” best – when, through familiarity, we don’t have to think about it. As long as you notice, and have to count, the steps, you are not yet dancing but only learning to dance. A good shoe is a shoe you don’t notice. Good reading becomes possible when you need not consciously think about eyes, or light, or print, or spelling. The perfect church service would be one we were almost unaware of; our attention would have been on God.

After an absence of six years from regular Lutheran Sunday morning services, I find that I can, indeed, concentrate better during the occasional visit to a Lutheran church. The hum-drumness has evaporated and certain words and phrases, that formerly slid out of the corners of my mouth without meaning, are sharp, two-edged sword words that now find clarity outside my refreshing pool of candor and revitalization.

Credits: To Clive Staples Lewis, for writing a treatise for the ages on the concept of Christianity and calling it “Mere”. Thank you for “Narnia”. What a magical place!

A favorite band piece

Rocky Point Holiday; Ron Nelson, composer

On our first Symphonic Band concert during my freshman year at South Dakota State University, we played some outstanding literature: H. Owen Reed’s “La Fiesta Mexicana”, John Williams’ “Olympic Fanfare” and Antonin Dvoark’s “Slavonic Dances, just to name a few. But, my favorite piece on the program was written by Ron Nelson. He called it “Rocky Point Holiday”.

He composed it while on vacation on Rocky Point, Rhode Island, and was his first major work. The University of Minnesota band had commissioned him to write a piece for their tour of the Soviet Union, and he served them this scrumptious entree.

Why do I like it? I’ve thought about that question for years. I think that I like the contrasts in the rhythms. It seems like there are always at least two rhythmic ideas happening at the same time; one fast, and the other not so fast. I suppose one could consider it an exercise in relativism. You don’t know how slow one part is until you play it in conjunction with its counterpart.

I had hoped that I would hear the Marine Band play this piece during my time with them. Alas, it wasn’t to be. But, thank heaven for the World Wide Interweb and it’s iTunes. This is a favorite track.

Credits: To H. Owen Reed, Mr. One Hundred Years Old. Thank you for your service to music education. And thank you for “La Fiesta Mexicana”. Awesome, haunting piece.

Tough Piano Parts

Russian Cello Sonatas; Sergei Rachmaninoff, Nicolai Miaskovsky, Dimitri Shostakovich, Igor Stravinsky, Sergei Prokofiev, composers; Truls Mork, cello; Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano; Lars Vogt, piano

Over the years, I have taken on the piano part of any number of Paul Hindemith’s sonatas for wind or string instruments. Mr. Hindemith, over the course of his career, wrote at least one sonata for most of the orchestral instruments. The common feature of distinction with these 20^th century works is that the piano part often has ten times the difficulty of the other part. Subsequently, I have redubbed the titles of Mr. Hindemith’s sonatas. His Trombone Sonata (1941), for example, has now been given the designation Really Hard Piano Part Sonata With Light, Fair, Candy Cane Trombone Obligato (1941) (title edit, 2010, E.A.).

The same could be said of Rachmaninoff’s Sonata for Cello and Piano in G Minor, Op. 19. The exception here, though, is that Mr. Rachmaninoff included the word “piano” in the title of the piece. That, right there, gives the pianist an equal voice to the cellist concerning the interpretation of the work. And, well, it should be so. The piano part is

HUGE!

And with no intention to undermine the difficulty of the cello part, I have redubbed the title: Piano Concerto Sonata for Piano and No Orchestra But With Guest Appearances by a Cello, Op. 19 (title edit, 2010, E.A.).

I haven’t learned this piano part yet, but it is on my piano part bucket list.

Credits: To Ms. Elizabeth Pridonoff, who played the piano part of Mr. Rachmaninoff’s Op. 19 at a faculty recital at CCM in 1989. I will never forget it. It was awesome. Bravo.