FROM PIKES PEAK TO THE WORLD

Colorado native Cecil Effinger wrote Little Symphony No. 1 "in the classical style of Mozart," commissioned by the St. Louis Little Symphony and intended for a balmy summer evening in the open air. He completed it in a fortnight, the opening theme having come to him "unpremeditated, spontaneous and complete" as he wrapped up an errand downtown in Denver, where in the closing days of World War II he was serving as commanding officer of Fort Logan's army band.

On 29 June, 1945, the piece was done. He dedicated it to conductor Stanley Chapple, who premiered it with the St. Louis ensemble a week later, on 6 July. Effinger wasn't quite 30 at the time. His parents were musicians and teachers, but he himself had gone in for math, getting his bachelor's in it at Colorado College before deciding to follow in their footsteps. His mathematical bent would serve him well in his other vocation as an inventor, creating both Musicwriter, a typerwriter for music notation, and Tempowatch, a stopwatch that calculates players' tempos while performing.

A former student of Boulanger, Effinger excelled at counterpoint and choral-writing, but his large output embraced many genres and styles. Realizing that brash extremes of experimentation were not for him, or his audience, he settled on what he termed "atonal tonality" as a conservatively modernistic way of expressing himself. Never quite earning a national reputation, by the time of his death he was nonetheless esteemed as a regional composer of high standing.

The Little Symphony No. 1 gracefully bears that assessment out. The piece was taken up by various other orchestras and became one of Effinger's most popular compositions, receiving a Naumburg Award in 1959. Its tight scoring lends it a coy intimacy, and after the second movement's skittery strings, that intimacy deepens into the tenderness of the Adagio's clarinet. The echo of that yearning somehow seems to linger even after the two decisive chords that cap the danceline finale - a phenomenon that supports biographer Larry Worster's contention that Effinger was, "like many of his colleagues, an academic composer, but one with romantic inclinations in the midst of the turbulent 20th Century."

Germaine Tailleferre composed hundreds of works across genres including orchestral, opera, film scores, and arrangements for radio and television, all of which helped her support herself during a long, complicated and difficult life of extraordinary challenges: an authoritarian father who compared professional musicians to prostitutes, two abusive and unhappy marriages, various health ailments, a series of financial difficulties and the loss of many of her manuscripts.

With the support of her mother, she entered the Paris Conservatory, and in 1918 she became a member of a group of young composers loosely known as Les Six, which included Francis Poulenc, Darius Milhaud, Arthur Honegger, Georges Auric, and Louis Durey. Tailleferre's compositions have neoclassical characteristics, yet she never entirely abandoned impressionism. She wrote with a myriad of colors and expressive dynamics, combining brevity, clarity, and wit. It was during the 1920s that she composed some of her best-known compositions, including the Concertino for Harp and Orchestra. In 1925, she married her first husband, Ralph Barton, an American caricaturist, in a whirlwind romance and moved to New York City. A jealous Barton did not appreciate his wife's reputation as a composer, and they were divorced in 1929. Despite their marital problems, the work is dedicated to him.

Considered a 20th century neoclassical masterpiece, the concertino is not your typical harp concerto. It is full of surprising and uncommon rhythms and subtle harmonies. The orchestra part is astonishingly colorful while the soloist has considerable technical demands, especially in the first movement cadenza. Mesmerizing, transportive, and sophisticated, the premiere took place in Boston on March 3, 1927, under the direction of Serge Koussevitzky. One critic described it as “mischievous ... combining daring dissonances with the most classical wisdom”, a refreshing contrast to the wide range of sexist press she often received. It is one of the most beautiful compositions for harp and orchestra from a brilliant and important 20th century visionary and deserves to be performed and heard in concert settings more frequently.

At the southern tip of the Baja California peninsula, in the state of Baja California Sur in Mexico is the famous “El Arco” (the Arch). The granite rock formations not only mark the most southwestern point of Baja, California, but also serve as a separation between the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez (Gulf of California) known as “Fin de la Tierra” or Land’s End. A study in contrast, this area from El Arco and continuing around the eastern side of Baja into Cabo Pulmo National Park encompasses what Jacques Cousteau once called “the world’s aquarium”. In this 18-minute concerto for Clarinet in B-flat and Chamber Orchestra, the diverse ecosystem of this area is explored. The clarinet soloist serves as a guide, taking us on a journey through this UNESCO World Heritage site to observe the beauty and diversity of the landscape, the water, the animals that live in and around it, and their symbiotic relationship that requires a delicate balance of conservation and exploration. The orchestra and the clarinet soloist provide that symbiotic relationship as the ensemble becomes the water, the rock sentries at Land’s End, and the many colors of the sea, underwater life, and wind and waves that make up the beauty of this seascape.

The clarinet gives us a view from above and below the water, sometimes with a bird’s eye view of the rock formations, then dipping below the surface of the Sea to follow the many colorful fish that make this area their home. Some that appear in this work include Sea Horses, a school of Goat Fish, Trumpetfish, and Long-Spined Porcupinefish. A special part of this concerto is a solo by the clarinet as it tells the story of the Munk’s Devil Ray, or Mobula Ray. Tens of thousands of these rays gather here in April-June, breaching the water like popcorn and making a spectacular show unique to this area. This solo will be expanded beyond the concerto version to become a stand-alone solo for Clarinet.

Beyond the exploration of this beautiful area through the colors of the clarinet and orchestra, this work hopes to bring attention to the importance of conservation of such places in the world that we all may continue to enjoy and protect these areas for generations to come.

When Ludwig van Beethoven began composing his Symphony No. 1 in 1799, he was 30 years old; he had already studied with Haydn, likely had met Mozart, and was enjoying an established reputation in Vienna as a pianist, improviser, and composer of chamber music. As the calendar turned to a new century, Beethoven turned his attention to the symphonic form, completing his first symphony in early 1800. The Classical-era symphonies of Haydn and Mozart followed a predictable formula that audiences of the time had come to recognize and expect, and Beethoven’s first symphony pays homage to the conventions of his predecessors - but not without the twists and subversions that are the hallmarks of this moody voice that would come to define the Romantic style.

As was the Classical-era convention for symphonies in major keys, the bright first movement of this C Major symphony begins with a slow introduction. But where earlier symphonies would have used this introduction to establish the tonality clearly, Beethoven uses it to obscure the key, opening with a dissonance that does not resolve to C Major until the fast section begins. From the very beginning of the piece, Beethoven features the winds much more prominently than in the symphonies of his predecessors, leading some contemporary reviewers to criticize his work as “band music” for its emphasis on the “Harmonie” (the wind section of the orchestra).

The slower second movement is titled “Andante,” as Classical-era audiences would have expected. But Beethoven indicates a brighter tempo “with motion” and writes triplet rhythms, giving the movement a minuet feel. Meanwhile, the third movement “Menuetto” is really a scherzo! Beethoven indicates a tempo for this movement that would be entirely too fast for dancing a minuet, his accents obscure the dance rhythms, and the uneven phrase lengths would have disrupted the steps.

Arriving at the fourth movement, Classical-era audiences would have been prepared for the tempo to fly, but Beethoven surprises again with a slow introduction. After a humorous false start, the movement proceeds to the end in the expected sonata form.