Grofé (Ferdinand Rudolph von Grofé), a New York City native, came from several generations of musicians. His mother was a cellist and his father was a singer. Ferde played several instruments, ranging from brass to strings. This helped him immensely as an arranger for Whiteman. (Grofé was also assistant conductor and pianist for the group.)

He put the wide range of knowledge he gained into every one of his works. The Grand Canyon Suite, the most popular work of this ingenious colorist, was composed in 1931 (and premiered by Whiteman) after Grofé had travelled extensively in Arizona. This grandiose music inspired by his travels shows he was profoundly impressed by the Grand Canyon.

Each movement, “Sunrise,” “The Painted Desert,” “On the Trail,” “Sunset,” and “Cloudburst” features a unique orchestral color. Many orchestrator’s tricks Grofé used became standard fare for Hollywood movies, especially westerns. This music may sound familiar even if you’ve never heard it before: its offspring are in countless westerns. However, there is another place you might have heard it – remember Walt Disney’s True-Life Adventure series? In 1958, the most spectacular film of that series was produced: “Grand Canyon,” which combined Grofé’s “Grand Canyon Suite” with some of the most astonishing cinematography of that era! It was one of Disney’s biggest artistic triumphs, and still well-worth seeing.

As to the Grand Canyon itself, whether you have seen it or not, go to the National Park Service Grand Canyon website and on the right hand menu, go to “In Depth.” Next page, from the lower-left menu, choose “Photos,” and then choose General Photos of Grand Canyon. From there, you can take your own photographic tour of one of our most awesome national scenic treasures.

Click here to purchase the orchestral score of this exciting work.

To listen to this music, check out the recording below:

“Gypsy” life is stereotyped as happy, free, and devil-may-care, but their history is one of the saddest of all. By about the year 400 they left northwest India in large numbers, migrating toward Europe by way of Persia (even then they were in demand for their music). Along the way, some of them established a short-lived, small kingdom, destroyed not long after it was established. After that, they were stateless, as they remain to this day. Around the year 1000 they came to Turkey, then Greece. They arrived in Europe in the 14th-century, and got to Hungary, often associated with their music, in the 15th century – in time to be blamed for the plague. Right up until the 19th century they were persecuted and murdered in one country after another; from England to Spain to Sweden, everywhere; male or female, they were accused of witchcraft, cannibalism, or general criminality, and burned or hung without trial. In Austro-Hungary in 1721, the Emperor, Karl VI, decreed that all Roma in his empire should be exterminated. As late as the early 19th century there were “Gypsy-hunts” in Germany. After Hitler came to power, the Roma (Gypsies) were more persecuted than the Jews. Very few of them survived the Nazi death-camps; Auschwitz was a grim summation of their history to that point. For a detailed look, check The Patrin Web Journal – Timeline of Romani (Gypsy) History online. The name “Gypsy” came from them being mistakenly called “Egyptians,” corrupted eventually to “Gypsy.” There were few bright spots, but one was Hungary, during and after the reign of Empress Maria Theresa of Hungary – she made laws favoring Gypsies. Within a few years, Gypsy music flourished in Hungary, and János Bihari (1764-1827) and his little orchestra made the music widely popular. It became known as Hungarian music, and was the music that inspired Liszt, Brahms, Johann Strauss, and many others to compose “Hungarian” Dances, Rhapsodies, and so forth. Not until Bartók’s and Zoltán Kodály’s (1882-1967) folk-song research did true Hungarian Magyar come to light, music quite different from the highly ornamented and florid Gypsy style upon which Ravel based his very beautiful and powerful Tzigane.

In Tzigane he captures the essence of Gypsy (Roma, Romani) culture and history. All of that pain and suffering as well as the joy of Gypsy freedom is poured into their music, every time a Gypsy violinist plays. However fast and joyful Gypsy music might seem to be, there is always a tinge of deep sadness, and the slow music cries out with passion. One finds all of this, the entire Gypsy gamut of emotion, style, and technical wizardry in the fantastic and difficult Tzigane of Ravel. Listen, relax, imagine yourself in front of a campfire – perhaps a fortune-teller is there…a dance begins…for a brief time, share the sadness, happiness, and passion of the Gypsy life…

For an excellent recording, check out:

This is a well-known story about a deranged musical genius hiding in the catacombs under the Paris Opera which explores the ultimate difference between true love and obsessive possessiveness masquerading — in this case, literally — as true love. There is a big difference between genuinely loving and accepting someone for who and what they are, and, on the other hand, regarding another person as an object to be possessed, to be owned, as putty to be shaped to fit the fantasy of the one obsessed, and in reality, as only an extension of the obsessed-one’s own ego. The Phantom of the Opera is a metaphor for that obsessive possessive so-called love that ultimately — if given free reign — destroys its own avowed “beloved.”

Webber’s music is familiar by now, and although there are other – and some, in many respects, more interesting – musical versions of this gripping and sometimes terrifying tale, his is the one we all know. You have heard this music so often you will likely recognize and anticipate every note – but it still chills the heart!

To purchase the piano music for selections from The Phantom of the Opera, click here for Vocal Selections – Souvenir Edition (voice and piano), or click here for Easy Piano Selections (voice, piano and guitar – chords only).

For a recording of all the songs you love, check this out:

Imagine you’d seen these people in movies, on TV, heard them on radio, heard their recordings, news reports, comedy routines, and in concerts. Further, imagine this culture was ALL in Yiddish, the “Slavic-ized” European Jewish-German linguistic potpourri.

Imagine that a man named Boris Tomashefsky spearheaded a Yiddish theater in late 19th-century New York City, that all this activity by artists and entertainers listed above, and much more, grew out of that theater, that our radio, TV, cinema, and much serious American classical music has its roots in this world—ONLY: what if?—you must know Yiddish to understand this North American Yiddishkeit—“Yiddish-ness?” Nu?

Ashkenazic Jewish culture from Central to Eastern Europe; Yiddishkeit, a wonderful mix of Jewish, Slavic, German, Hungarian and other cultures came to NYC in the late 19th- and early 20th-century, coalescing—with a major push from Yiddish superstar Boris Tomashefsky—into the Yiddish theater. Those names above represent careers rooted in that tradition. But: the good news is: ENJOY!—you don’t have to know Yiddish: the whole thing transformed itself into English, in fact, “Americanese.” Why? Because one thing those immigrants and descendants listed above had in common is they wanted to be Americans! So did their theater—it became Tin Pan Alley, Broadway, radio, eventually TV; it became silent movies, then “talkies,” MGM and other movie dynasties, Gone With The Wind, Wizard of Oz, and so forth and so on. “A horse of a different color”—but still a horse!

Now: those names above: because those names were changed by these persons, their parents, or grandparents to sound American, we know—not in any particular chronological order—Bernard Schwarz as Tony Curtis, Issur Danielovitch as Kirk Douglas, Betty Perske as Lauren Bacall, Mr. Steiner as “Ashley Wilkes,” a.k.a. Leslie Howard, followed by Gene Wilder, Michael Landon, Bea Arthur, and Fred Astaire. Mr. Weiss “escaped” that name to become Harry Houdini. Larry King interviewed, and Mike Wallace roasted, some of the following: Roseanne Barr, Woody Allen, Joan Rivers, Jack Benny, George Burns, Jason Alexander. The musicians are Al Jolson, Bob Dylan, Eddie Cantor, Victor Borge, Irving (“Oiving,” as he said) Berlin, Fanny Brice (played in Funny Girl by Barbra Streisand, who kept her name), Michael Tilson Thomas (grandson of Boris), an operatic diva of the very best sort who started, age 4, on Yiddish radio as “Bubbles” Silverman—the late and very great Beverly Sills. Kaplan became Copland. Finally, the last three names—and here the theme unfolds: what’s in a name? A language? What happens when you put Yiddish and Yiddish-culture into English and English-keit? David Kaminsky becomes Danny Kaye—who, for those of us old enough to remember, could sing more names of more Russian composers in a shorter time than anybody, in the song “Tchaikovsky” (imagine what he could do with these name changes!) That song came from the 1941 show, Lady in the Dark with lyrics by Ira Gershovitz as “Ira Gershwin,” and music by Kurt Weill (same name as always); Ira Gershovitz-now-Gershwin was by then working with Weill, because four years earlier, his life-long collaborator, brother Jakob Gershovitz, the great composer and performer, had died. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the man we know as George Gershwin.

Now that you know—if you didn’t already—you do know quite a lot (even if it is in English) about Yiddish culture, its legacy, and that much of it permeates your cultural life much of the time, you can better understand George Gershwin. His entire art grew out of that soil, combining it with other traditions in a masterful, convincing way no other composer has equaled. He synthesized the diverse elements of Yiddishkeit, and infused them with his classical training to produce a unique music as American as any music could be. His music is the old-world immigrant become American, and in turn helping build a newer, bigger, and better America. Gershwin’s “schooling” was mostly in Tin Pan Alley, starting as a teenager, and then on Broadway, moving to the concert hall somewhat later. Paul Whiteman, who commissioned Rhapsody in Blue, played a major role in that. All along, brother Ira wrote lyrics for most of George’s songs, then many of his big theatrical productions—Ira was good with words as George was with notes. Ira, by the way, as a young lad “gave” George a piano: their parents bought it for Ira, their oldest, hoping for a pianist. They got one: George! He loved the piano, Ira didn’t, and the rest, as often said, is history. Ira was happy: he much preferred writing words to making music.

George Gershwin did study privately, first with Charles Hambitzer, then Rubin Goldmark who also taught Copland, and Henry Cowell, at that time an avant-garde composer. Gershwin also consulted with Joseph Schillinger, a musical mathematician/theoretician, and he also with 12-tone composer/theorist Arnold Schoenberg (with whom he also played tennis regularly) In Paris, Gershwin consulted Ravel. It is fair to say George Gershwin had a thirst to improve his knowledge of music and worked hard to do so.

Gershwin was also interested in jazz, and that was reciprocal: Paul Whiteman, known as “The King of Jazz” by the media, commissioned Gershwin to compose a work bringing together jazz elements with classical elements. That work was Rhapsody in Blue. It was composed in 1924, orchestrated by Ferde Grofé (known mostly for his Grand Canyon Suite), and premiered by the Whiteman orchestra with Paul conducting and George himself—a phenomenal pianist—at the keyboard in Aeloian Hall in New York City in 1924. This is where this version of the Gershwin saga ends, because it is in this work that the immigrants—George Gershwin and the Yiddish culture from which he came—REALLY arrived on the music scene and became yet another important part of the American melting pot. George brought it all together, and it became a new musical-cultural platform upon which all of us since have built. As Paul Whiteman said of Rhapsody in Blue, “Jazz became a lady;” and this writer might add, America enriched its culture by bringing the Russian-Jewish Gershovitzes and their culture aboard and providing a safe, supportive, and free milieu in which they grew into “the Gershwins.”

Rhapsody in Blue has all that in it, and says it all more eloquently than words.

If you are interested in performing Rhapsody in Blue, check out these links:

Rhapsody in Blue for Piano, click here.

Rhapsody in Blue for Full Orchestra (Miniature Score), click here.

Rhapsody in Blue. Arranged by Bob Cerulli. For Intermediate Full Orchestra. Conductor Score & Parts. Click here.

For your own recording of Rhapsody in Blue, check out:

One thing most people will agree on is the fact that well written lyrics play a huge part in the success of a song. A great melody and hook-line (a melodic “chunk” that is repeated throughout the whole song) are certainly considered key ingredients to a successful song on the pop charts. But at the end of the day the phenomenon known as ‘the groove’ will ultimately decide the fate of most popular songs (just ask any bass player or drummer).

Wikipedia defines groove as “… is the sense of propulsive rhythmic “feel” or sense of “swing” created by the interaction of the music played by a band’s rhythm section (drums, electric bass or double bass, guitar, and keyboards). The term is mainly used in the context of genres outside of Western art music, such as funk, rock music, power groove, fusion, and soul.

While some musicians have called the concept of “groove” a subjective and elusive notion, they acknowledge that the concept is well-understood by experienced musicians at a practical, intuitive level. Funk and Latin musicians refer to “groove” as the sense of being “in the pocket”, and jazz players refer to groove as the sense that a jam session is really “cooking” or “swinging.”

Musicologists and other scholars began to analyse the concept of “groove” in the 1990s. They have argued that a “groove” is an “understanding of rhythmic patterning” or “feel” and “an intuitive sense” of “a cycle in motion” that emerges from “carefully aligned concurrent rhythmic patterns” that sets in motion dancing or foot-tapping on the part of listeners. “ (Copyright by Wikipedia / excerpt from Wikipedia.com)

Although groove is very hard to explain, it is fairly easy to ‘feel’ whenever a band’s rhythm section is in it. A groove happens when the drummer and bass player , along with the rhythm guitar player and keyboard player (being the other two pieces of a typical popular band’s rhythm section) fall into rhythmic patterns that add up to one ‘undeniable feel’ that will make most audiences want to move (i.e. dance, snap their fingers, bop their heads, etc.).  Although groove has been described as something individuals feel differently, the effect of a solid groove can be experienced when watching the audience’s reaction and movements at any good band’s performance.

Consider this: when you get closer to the stage of any open-air venue, what is the first thing that captures your attention? From a distance it is usually hard for anybody to make out the vocals or intricate facets of the lead players’ lines, but you will be able to hear the drums and bass hopefully creating the ‘groove’ that will draw your attention to the music. Coincidence? I don’t think so

A good groove can make the difference between between a hit record and a regular song – just look at the liner notes in your record collection and you will find out that there are certain rhythm sections that could be considered ‘hit machines’ because of their undeniable grooves: in country music you can make the case for drummer Eddie Bayers Jr. and bassist Michael Rhodes being the No.1 team; reggae music featured Robbie Shakespeare and Sly Dunbar as their predominant groove machine; Motown music was heavily influenced by geniuses such as James Jamerson and Uriel Jones (The Funk Brothers); the Beatles were certainly blessed with the exceptional talents of bassist Paul McCartney and drummer Ringo Starr; rock music owes a lot to groove masters such as Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham or Toto’s Jeff Porcaro; popular music was heavily influenced by rhythm sections like Sting and Stewart Copeland; the Muscle Shoals Rhythm section has achieved worldwide recognition for their outstanding work – case in point, an awful lot of a song’s potential to be a hit is related to its potential to ‘groove’ or ’swing’ and record producers all over the world have been paying close attention to this fact throughout the history of popular music.

The next time you listen to your favorite music, try to pay some attention to the rhythm section work to ‘detect’ the groove – it is a lot of fun and might give you a whole new appreciation for your favorite artist’s work.

Until next time, keep groovin’ -
Robert DiBlanco

There are not nearly as many successful cello concertos as there are, for example, violin concertos, because the problems of writing for a solo cello versus the orchestra are much greater. The violin stands out naturally because it is in the upper register, whereas the cello’s tessitura lies more-or-less in the middle of the orchestra where it could easily be covered up by horns, trumpets, clarinets, bassoons, trombones, the tuba, and so forth. Many composers solve this by using more antiphonal sections between cello and orchestra (much like the responsive readings of churches and synagogues), only combining the two on select and very carefully scored occasions, such as the upper, brilliant range of the cello against lower strings, woodwinds, or brass used sparingly, or the dominating lower range with the upper instruments. Another option is using the orchestra as “punctuation.” All of these concertos cited above solve these problems quite well, with excellent balance between soloist and orchestra. It is the opinion of this writer that Lalo actually did a better job of this than Schumann, for example, but that is a matter of personal preference. In any event, it is a beautiful and exciting work, and one that deserves to be heard more often.

To purchase the score, please click here.
To purchase a set of parts, please click here.

To hear this work, among others, performed by Yo-Yo Ma, check out this recording:

On this recording are:
#1. Cello Concerto No. 1 in A minor, Op. 33
Composed by Camille Saint-Saëns
Performed by Orchestre National de France
with Yo-Yo Ma
Conducted by Lorin Maazel

#2. Cello Concerto in D minor
Composed by Édouard Lalo
Performed by Orchestre National de France
with Yo-Yo Ma
Conducted by Lorin Maazel

He enjoyed early success, which began shortly after he completed his studies at Curtis Institute of Music. The fact that his aunt, Louise Homer, was a famous singer at the New York Metropolitan Opera gave him a ready entrée, that is, built-in connections with famous musicians, many of whom commissioned him to write works for them.

His First Essay for Orchestra was premiered in 1938 by the NBC Orchestra under the direction of Arturo Toscanini. Another work of Barber’s, the Adagio for Strings, was performed on the same concert; it is better known than the Essay, but in many ways the Essay seems to portend more of what was to be Barber’s future direction.

Even though Barber was only 28 at the time of the First Essay’s premier, it already shows a mature command of the orchestra and of the compositional craft. As is the case with all of Barber’s music, it also certainly displays an uncommonly beautiful sense of line. Along with the Adagio, it is one of Barber’s works that has become a regular part of the orchestral repertoire.

You can buy an MP3 download of the First Essay for Strings here:

Argentinian composer Alberto Ginastera

His father was of Catalan stock (as was Pablo Casals), and his mother was from an Italian background. It is no surprise, therefore, that his music exhibits both Spanish (Catalan) and Italian traits, as well as the characteristic specifically Argentinean features. (The family used the pronunciation “Jee-na-stare-ah,” not with an “H” sound at the beginning, for the name “Ginastera.”)

After WWII, Ginastera fell out of favor with the Perón government because of his criticism of the neo-Fascist government and his own more liberal political sentiments. After being removed by the Peronistas from his job as professor of music, he came to the United States and, although he was already a mature, established composer, studied with Aaron Copland. Copland had a significant influence on Ginastera’s musical ideas. Gradually, in the fifties and sixties he moved toward a more radical, even avant-garde, style. His early nationalism was replaced by a style influenced by Stravinsky and Bartók among others at about the time he studied with Copland. Eventually, he turned to serialism and also incorporated other contemporary cutting edge techniques of that time. His international reputation grew, and he was the recipient of many honors. However, his personal life grew to be full of turmoil, and in the late sixties he divorced his first wife, Mercedes, and eventually remarried, to cellist Aurora Natola. The couple moved to Switzerland and lived in Geneva until the composers’ death in 1983 at the age of 67.

Malambo is a very old type of dance from around 1600, and was always danced by men, especially gauchos—it was never danced by women. It is highly rhythmic and very energetic, and was danced by gauchos, wearing gaucho boots. The Malambo was a sort of “cowboy” tap dance, with occasional rhythmic boot heel stomps punctuating the rapid motion of the feet. Ginastera’s Malambo, Op. 7 (1940), for piano, was followed in 1941 by his ballet, Danzas del Ballet Estancia, which is in four movements: I. Los Trabajadores Agricolas (The Land Workers), II. Danza del Trigo (Wheat Dance), III. Los Peones de Hacienda (The Cattle Men) and IV. Danza Final (Malambo). This last movement is an orchestral reworking of the material in Malambo, Op. 7, somewhat expanded, and with a few more “boot heel stomps” thrown in. The result is one of the most exciting of all 20th-century orchestral pieces. The obsessively repetitive rhythm is very infectious, and one gets caught up in it much as one would get caught up in a landslide or an avalanche; it is inevitable, and sweeps away everything before it. This music takes us back to the most primitive essence of the pampas and its gauchos!

To try gaucho grilling on your own, try out this cookbook!

Viola soloists and viola concertos are rare even in our time, but were much more so during the lifetime of Carl Stamitz. Yet, he was known as a phenomenal viola soloist unlike any other in his time, and he wrote his viola concerto in all likelihood with his own playing in mind. He also played the violin and the viola d’amore, but seems to have been most recognized for his spectacular viola playing. His Viola Concerto in D Major, which was published in the mid-1770’s, certainly makes uncommon technical demands especially by the standards of his day. This is a reason it is often used as test or audition material for violists.

The viola is a larger sibling of the violin—one joke has it that the difference between a viola and a violin is that a viola burns longer. However, there is more than that: the viola has, at its best, a broader, warmer sound than the violin, and on the other hand is inherently less brilliant in tone. Each of these two “sister” instruments is indispensable to the orchestra and to string quartets, but the violin has always been more popular as a solo instrument, perhaps because of its higher register, greater agility, and the fact that it is more easily heard above the orchestra than the viola. Thus, the Stamitz concerto is one of only a handful for the viola, a musical treasure.

Viola Concerto (with Cadenzas) By Carl Stamitz. Edited by Meyer. For viola, piano. Published by Edition Peters. (P03816a) See more info…

Viola Concerto No. 1 in D Major By Carl Stamitz (1745-1801), edited by A. Weibezahn, N. Gertsch. Single piece and set of performance parts for Viola and piano. Urtext edition (Paper-bound). 48 pages. Published by G. Henle. (HL.51480758) See more info…

Chávez was a conductor, a pianist, and a teacher. For six years he directed the National Conservatory, where he introduced many important innovations in the teaching of music. He wrote a great deal of music, including 7 symphonies. Sinfonia India (1936) is Symphony No. 2. In 1940, Chávez wrote his monumental Piano Concerto, which is of symphonic scope. The famed American piano virtuoso, the late Eugene List (with whom this writer was privileged to study) performed and recorded this concerto under the guidance of Chávez himself. Mr. List spoke of Chávez as being a vigorous, vital and utterly sincere individual whom he liked very much, a man of passionate beliefs and opinions, and intensely interested in his own Mexican roots and the indigenous culture of Mexico. These qualities could not be better exemplified than by the note Chávez himself provided for his Sinfonia India, which also provides a ready-made insight into what the composer had in mind in creating this exciting work. Here is Chávez’ note in its entirety:

Composer Note:

“The indigenous music of Mexico is a reality of contemporary life. It is not, as might be thought, a relic to satisfy mere curiosity on the part of intellectuals, or to supply more or less important data for ethnography. The indigenous art of Mexico is, in our day, the only living manifestations of the race which makes up approximately four-fifths of the country’s racial stock.

The essential characteristics of this indigenous music have been able to resist four centuries of contact with European musical expressions. That is, while it is certain that contact with European art has produced in Mexico a mestizo (mixed) art in constant evolution, this has not meant the disappearance of pure indigenous art. This fact is an index to its strength.

The force of indigenous art is rooted in a series of essential conditions. It obeys a natural creative impulse of the individual toward an expression at once legitimate and free of affectation. In musical terms, the great expressive strength of indigenous art is rooted in its intrinsic variety, in the freedom and amplitude of its modes, and scales, in the richness of its instrumental and sound elements, and in the simplicity and purity of its instrumental and sound elements, and in the simplicity and purity of its melodies.

There is never, in this music, a morbid or degenerate feeling, never a negative attitude toward other men or nature as a whole. The music of America ’s immediate ancestors is the strong music of a man who constantly struggles and tries to dominate his surroundings. Imported manifestations opposed to the feeling of the music have been unable to destroy it because they have not succeeded in changing the ethical conditions of individuals.”

– Carlos Chávez

To purchase a set of the complete symphonies of Carlos Chávez, click link below:

Carlos Chávez: The Complete Symphonies

For a score and full set of parts, check this out:

More works by Carlos Chávez:

Three Poems For Medium/Low Voice and Piano. By Carlos Chavez. Vocal Collection. 24 pages. Published by G. Schirmer, Inc. (50485218) See more info…

Toccata By Carlos Chavez. For Percussion Ensemble. Percussion – Ensemble. Percussion Ensemble Series. Level: Intermediate Plus (grade 5). Book. 76 pages. Published by Alfred Publishing. (88801X) See more info…

Tree of Sorrow (Arboluco, Te Sequeste) – for Four Part Mixed Chorus SATB. By Carlos Chavez. Arranged by Carlos Chavez. SATB chorus and keyboard. For SATB, Piano Rehearsal. Contemporary Choral Series. Choral. Choral Part(s). 6 pages. Published by Theodore Presser Company. (352001130) See more info…

Chapultepec: Marcha Provinciana [composer's transcription] By Chavez, Carlos (1899-1978) [Codina, Genaro (1851-1901)]. For concert band. Level: Grade 3. Full score. Composed 1933. Duration 3 minutes. Published by Kalmus (Reprint source: Belwin-Mills). (B3591-FSC) See more info…

Partita for Solo Timpani (Percussion / Timpani) By Carlos Chavez. This edition: ED3356. Percussion. 16 pages. Published by G. Schirmer, Inc. (50336150) See more info…