The work falls into three main sections, played without a break, but conforming to the traditional pattern of concerto structure. After a slow introduction, containing most of the motivic and rhythmic ideas used in the work, there follows the main fast section which is itself divided into three parts and concludes with a fierce climax (timpani and gong). The slow and rather intense middle section is linked to a cadenza for the soloist, at first unaccompanied but leading to accompanied references to earlier material. The final section is a scherzo which ends dramatically with a re-statement of the opening slow introduction. A brisk coda concludes the work. The interval of a fourth (and its augmented form) provides melodic and harmonic unity for the work, whilst the tonal juxtaposition between E minor and B flat major throughout the concerto is an important element of the structure.

The writing for trombone is virtuosic, encompassing the whole range of the instrument, but it also exploits the rather beautiful lyrical sound of which this instrument is capable. The work lasts for some 16 minutes.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

The concerto is in three movements, following the usual quick-slow-quick pattern: Allegro deciso, Lento e mesto, Allegro giocoso. The first is in a sonata form shell with two contrasting themes, the first rhythmic in character, the second lyrical. There is a reference made in the development section to the opening theme of Vaughan Williams’s tuba concerto, but only in passing.

The second movement unfolds a long cantabile melody for the soloist, which contrasts to a ritornello idea which is announced three times by strings alone. The central climax of the movement triumphantly heralds the main theme from the full orchestra.

The last movement is in rondo form, alternating the main theme with two episodes. The first of these is a broad sweeping tune, the second is jazz-like in style with prominent solos for the clarinet and vibraphone in conjunction with the tuba. After a short cadenza, reference is made to the opening of the concerto, and the work ends with a triumphal flourish.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

Music for Chamber Orchestra is in four movements. The opening movement is the longest and has a sonata form structure. There are two main ideas: a fugal style chromatic subject, sombre and slow, is announced by strings and builds to climax as the wind section enters. A more lyrical second subject is announced by the oboe over a repetitive rhythmic string accompaniment. Both ideas are fully developed before the mood of the opening returns and a plaintive coda (with oboe prominent) concludes the movement.

The scherzo-like second movement is fairly light-hearted in character and has a jaunty tune as its main idea. The slow third movement (adagio, mesto e sostenuto) returns to the mood of the very opening of the work. The first section uses sustained strings, with both horns, whilst the second section uses the wind almost totally. The movement then builds to a powerful climax before returning to the opening idea. The last movement is a cheerful rondo with two episodes, the first lyrical, the second highly rhythmic.

Edward Gregson

The work is in three movements, and which to some extent all share common musical material. The first movement, lntrada, opens with a four-note horn call, soon joined by the rest of the brass and percussion. This fanfare-like introduction leads into an energetic 6/8 dance, the main theme of which is an extension of the opening horn call. The climax of this section is punctuated by a percussion 'break', leading into a slow, lyrical section, with solos for wind, which are eventually broken up by jarring muted brass. A short reprise of the first section ends the movement.

The second movement, Elegy, is slow and thoughtful and is the emotional heart of the work. Its gentle lyrical core has, however, a darker edge to it and gradually moves into a central section built of chromatic clusters, eventually leading to a powerful climax before subsiding into a 12-note passacaglia theme on cellos, basses, and bass clarinet, with the opening melody now transformed into solos for horn, flute and clarinet. The movement ends in an unresolved chord on melodic percussion.

The final movement returns to the dance-like mood of the first movement, this time in the form of a lively Toccata. It opens with another percussion 'break' but soon develops its main idea - repeated rhythmic figures in changing time patterns. A slower middle section follows where the melodic and rhythmic ideas are developed (pizzicato strings answered by woodwind, later brass). The music gains momentum again and returns to the opening of the movement, this time more assertively and with a stronger driving energy. The work ends with a short but triumphant reprise of the opening horn call.

The work is scored for large symphony orchestra, with triple woodwind, piano, harp, as well as a colourful range of percussion.

For my part, the challenge was to write a set of pieces for the piano which would be technically suitable for both young and mature pianists, whilst still responding to the compositional demands of creating interesting material, mainly organised through contrapuntal means (often just two-part counterpoint, as in Bourrée 1 or the Gigue), but sometimes through harmonic means (as in the Sarabande or Gavotte). In addition, the more personal nature of the genesis of the album resulted in each piece, or dance, being dedicated to a particular friend. Whilst their pianistic skills might vary quite considerably, they all share a great love of music - something which unites us all.

I have structured Triptych in three compact movements (hence the title), each of which has its own musical characterisation. The movements are unified through the common reference to Greek/Roman mythological sources in their individual titles, which in turn give a clue as to their character.

A Dionysian Dialogue takes up the idea of the conflict of ‘opposites which exist within our make-up as human beings. The ‘Dialogue’ is really between Dionysus and Apollo, or the metaphorical representation of this within ourselves. Thus, the Dionysian music is raw, earthy, sometimes violent, often ecstatic; whereas the Apollonian is serene, dreamy, calm, assured. The musical quotes are meant to invoke a layer of subconscious memory (mainly for violinists it should be said), as well as underlining the ‘opposites’ (so for me, the Walton and Bach = Apollonian, whilst the Stravinsky and Shostakovich = Dionysian). Performers should try to realise the maximum potential in this movement for opposing musical characterisation.

Song to Aphrodite is a love song. The two variations are, in turn, reflective (or dream-like) and playful (or seductive). The reprise of the melody should create a sense of regret, or of a memory, half grasped, disappearing into the distance (perhaps love lost?).

A Celtic Bacchanal is really a musical romp, and is based on the final movement of my own violin concerto, written in 2000. Musically speaking it is a tarantella-like scherzo, where sheer virtuosity is the order of the day. The use of ‘Celtic’ in the title simply alludes to the fact that towards the end of the movement the melodic character of the music becomes more akin to an Irish Jig (chromatic elements are transformed into diatonic). As I am half Irish myself, there was nothing self-conscious about this gesture. Although the use of the Bodhrán (Irish drum) is entirely optional in performance, some foot-stamping, in the manner of a folk fiddler, is to be encouraged - indeed, it would be entirely appropriate!

Through a long journey of writing music for brass band, which commenced with Connotations (1977), and continued with Dances and Arias (1984), Of Men and Mountains (1991), The Trumpets of the Angels (2000) and Rococo Variations (2008), I arrived at what I regard as the most important work of the cycle to date, combining as it does serious musical intent with considerable technical demands. It is perhaps my most abstract work for brass band, avoiding any programmatic content.

The symphony lasts for some 19 minutes and is structured in two linked movements. The form is based on that used by Beethoven in his final piano sonata (Op.111), which is in two movements only: a compact sonata-form allegro, followed by a more expansive theme and four variations. Prokofiev also adopted this model in his 2nd Symphony of 1925.

The opening Toccata of my Symphony is highly dramatic but compact, whilst still retaining the 'traditional' structural elements of exposition, development and recapitulation; indeed, it also has the 'traditional' element of a contrasting second subject - a gentle, lyrical modal melody first heard on solo cornets.

In contrast, the longer and more substantial second movement Variations is built around a theme and four variations. The slowly unfolding chorale-like theme accumulates both added note harmony and increasing instrumentation, whilst the four variations which follow are by turn mercurial (fast, starting with all the instruments muted), march-like (menacing, with short rhythmic articulations underpinning an extended atonal melody), serene (a series of 'romances' for solo instruments alongside echoes of the chorale) with an emerging theme eventually bursting into a climax of passionate intent; whilst the final variation is a dynamic scherzo (concertante-like in its series of rapid-fire solos, duets, trios and quartets) with the music gradually incorporating elements of the main ideas from the first movement, thus acting as a recapitulation for the whole work. It reaches its peroration with a return to the very opening of the symphony, now in the 'home' tonality of F, and thus creating a truly symphonic dimension to the music.

Most of the melodic material of the symphony is derived from the opening eleven-note 'row', which contains various intervallic sets, and although the work is not serially conceived it does use some typical quasi-serial procedures, such as canons, inversions, and retrogrades. The symphony uses somewhat limited percussion, in line with a 'classical' approach to the sound world of the brass band, alongside a use of multi-divisiinstrumentation, whereby each player has an individual part rather than the traditional doubling within certain sections of the band.

The Symphony has been recorded by the Black Dyke Band under Nicholas Childs on the Doyen label (The Music of Edward Gregson Vol. 5 - DOY 319).

It is the last in a series of brass concerti which the composer first started in 1970 with his Horn Concerto, written for Ifor James. Since then he has completed a Tuba Concerto (1976, for John Fletcher), a Trombone Concerto (1979, for Michael Hext) and finally the Trumpet Concerto (1983).

The Trumpet Concerto is in three movements and is scored for Strings and Timpani. The first movement, Allegro giusto , has a sonata form outline and contrasts two main ideas: the first is strident, angular and highly rhythmic, whilst the second is more lyrical and pensive. The strings and timpani play a dramatic role in the musical argument. The second movement (dedicated to the memory of Dmitri Shostakovich and using his personal 4-note musical cypher), again has contrasting elements. After an orchestral introduction the trumpet enters dramatically. The music here is fragmented, but soon dissolves into a more flowing middle section which builds to a powerful climax. The opening music returns, this time in inversion, and leads to a simple and plaintive re-working of the first trumpet entry. The tension has been resolved.

A cadenza follows, the timpani joining and linking with the trumpet straight into the Finale, Vivo e brillante. This is exuberant in style and cast in rondo form. The rondo theme itself abounds in upward running scales. The episodes, a broad sweeping tune followed by a hectic string fugato based on the rondo theme, and finally a 6/8 scherzo, punctuate the various re-appearances of the main theme. A virtuoso coda with trumpet and strings throwing cascading scales at each other concludes the concerto.

The work is a celebration by way of displaying the virtuosity of the players for whom it was written, and therefore could be viewed as a sort of mini-concerto for orchestra (without strings). Despite only lasting around six minutes it highlights in turn the various sections of the ensemble. The form of the piece might be described as follows:

• Block 1: brass, timpani, percussion and piano.
• Block 2: wind trios, harp and percussion.
• Chorale: wind only.
• Development of the music from Blocks 1 and 2.
• Chorale: full ensemble with opening material returning.

The opening fanfare-like material, announced by three spatially separated trumpets with tubular bells, is important. The music in this Block is exuberant. In Block 2, the wind sections enter in turn; flutes, clarinets, oboes and bassoons, with music that is scherzando-like on the whole. This leads directly into a simple chorale, a symbol of timelessness. Development of both blocks of music follows, often rhythmically highly-charged, before the chorale returns triumphantly together with the opening trumpet fanfares.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

The work could be loosely described as a mini-concerto for orchestra, featuring sections of the orchestra in a soloistic, and often virtuosic, manner. It commences with fanfares heralded by three antiphonal trumpets spread around the back of the orchestra. This colourful introduction, also scored for the rest of the brass, piano and percussion, soon gives way to the strings which ponder for a while on the short motivic figure from the trumpet fanfares before breaking into fast, arpeggiated whythmic figurations. This dance-like section finally gives way to a section for wind, where each of the four groups has their own characteristic music. This leads to a simple chorale, followed by a development section which takes all the various melodic and rhythmic ideas and throws them against each other, often in a contrapuntal manner. Eventually, the music reaches a climax when the chorale is restated trumphantly against a counterpoint of the opening trumpet fanfares and the dance-like string music. The work ends in a blaze of colour.

© Edward Gregson

The work is in two parts and lasts for about 30 minutes. It is scored for large symphony orchestra, without clarinets except for a bass clarinet, which plays an important role in ‘shadowing’ the soloist. Part One opens with the solo clarinet in a cadenza-like introduction, gradually joined by the orchestra, in which most of the main material of the concerto is announced in embryonic form. The main allegro section follows, which has a sonata-form outline with two main thematic ideas announced, developed, and recapitulated. However, there is a constant process of thematic metamorphosis, so that when the second theme is heard again near the end it has been transformed into something quite different. The final bars, with their punctuated dissonant rythms, leave the music hanging in the air, unresolved.

Part Two attempts to resolve the musical argument and transforms material from Part One into more tonal and melodically-based music. It opens with a long slow movement (strings only at the outset) which presents a chorale-like motive against a backdrop of a falling semitone ostinato (the same interval with which the concerto began and one which dominates throughout) heard on high violins. After a central climax the soloist unfolds a long, but quite simple melody, a gesture towards which the music has been striving. This leads into the final section, a boisterous dance, which incorporates ‘popular’ elements as well as reviewing material from Part One. The music inevitably moves towards its climax, heading towards B flat major and the melody the whole concerto has been waiting for. Its final bars resolve everything.

© Edward Gregson

The work is in three movements: fast - slow - fast. The first, Toccata, contrasts two main ideas: an impetuous opening theme on the piano (heard after a brief introduction) which is rhythmic in a neo-classical manner, followed by a second theme, more lyrically-tinged, heard initially on flute with the piano taking a subsidiary, accompanying role (later in the movement the roles are reversed). The development section takes on the mood of the rhythmic music, with the piano taking off into an extended cadenza at the climax. The orchestra returns with the first theme with the piano wistfully repeating the second. A brief coda ends the movement abruptly.

The Passacaglia is built on a rising three-note figure, always present in the texture of the music. A simple melodic phrase unfolds, first on oboe, later on piano and soprano saxophone. The movement builds to its climax (with the saxophone prominent) and subsides again to where it began. The last movement, Rondo-Burlesque, has a swirling, dance-like main theme built around Bartokian-style time changes. Through its two episodes there gradually emerges a new theme, St Nicholas, Godes Druth (an example of twelfth century English monody) which, after a brief reference to the opening theme of the concerto and the final statement of the rondo tune, flowers into a triumphant statement and brings the concerto to a rousing conclusion.

The Concerto is dedicated to, and was written for, John McCabe, who gave the first performance of the revised version of the concerto in November 1997 at Lancaster University, with the Royal Northern College of Music Wind Orchestra conducted by Clark Rundell.

Edward Gregson

The piece is based on a short repetitive pattern, heard at the outset, which dominates the music. A second idea, featuring solo strings, is more chromatic and contrapuntal although the basic rhythmic pattern still underpins it. The music gradually loses energy and stops. It starts again, this time a tri-tone away from the opening pitch of A, but then explodes into a wild fugue before the opening returns with a surprise addition to the ensemble.

The style is intentionally eclectic (Adams meets Shostakovich with Gregson thrown in!), but hopefully fits the brief to write a snappy concert opener for string orchestra.

© Edward Gregson

In 1997, the composer made a new version of Three Matisse Impressions for recorder, strings, harp and percussion. This version, which is dedicated to John Turner, was premiered by the dedicatee and the Northern Chamber Orchestra.

The work lasts for about ten minutes and uses large forces, including a full brass section, percussion, cellos, basses, organ and choir. It is based on a quotation from the Book of Revelation:

And I saw the seven Angels which stood before
God: and to them were given seven trumpets.

As the title suggests, the work centres around seven solo trumpets, four on-stage and three off-stage. In addition, four French horns are positioned at the rear of the auditorium and sound the first notes of the piece. As the work develops, each trumpet in turn has a solo cadenza, echoing the text surrounding the seven angels in the Book of Revelation. After the first four trumpets have sounded there is an organ cadenza which prefaces a duet for the off-stage Trumpets 5 and 6, depicting the 'Horsemen of the Apocalypse'. The last trumpet to sound, Trumpet 7, has the longest and most climactic of the cadenzas, as befits the seventh angel announcing that 'time shall be no more'. It rises to a high held note which heralds the entrance of the choir (Alleluias), and brings the work to a triumphant conclusion.

Edward Gregson

* Note:
First performance: Huddersfield Town Hall, 6 November 1998
BBC Philharmonic and Huddersfield Choral Society conducted by Martyn Brabbins

As I completed most of the Violin Concerto during the last few months of the last century, I found it impossible to resist the temptation to look back and give some respectful nods in certain musical directions – not that the music itself uses direct quotation, more perhaps that it has an illusory veneer of such without, I hope, any self-consciousness. However, the single most important element behind the concerto is a non-musical one – namely, that of poetry. Thus, each movement is prefaced by a quotation from different poetic sources which give the starting point for the character of the music – indeed, often much more.

Whilst working on the concerto I was also completing a large-scale work for choir and orchestra entitled The Dance, forever the Dance. The third movement of this work set a poem by Oscar Wilde called The Harlot’s House and one stanza from this poem is quoted at the very opening of the concerto:

But she – she heard the violin,
And left my side, and entered in;
Love passed into the house of lust.

The poem itself is tinged with sensuality and imagery of death. Two lovers wander down a moonlit street (Vienna or Paris, perhaps?), the woman becoming captivated by the sound of a distant violin playing a waltz by Johann Strauss. She leaves her lover and joins what turns out to be an orgiastic dance of death. I have used the idea of the violin as an instrument of seduction and the music of the first movement mirrors this. The concerto opens with a slow lyrical section, the violin announcing the main motive of the concerto (a four-note descending phrase). The main fast section follows where two ideas are contrasted and developed. When the first idea returns, it is transformed into a scherzo which itself is transformed into a parody of an orgiastic waltz. At this point, the violin continues with a cadenza, soon to be joined by the dramatic entrance of the timpani. The transformed four-note motif (pizzicato) leads straight into the slow movement:

This quotation from a poem by Paul Verlaine provides suitable contrast to the first movement with its autumnal orchestral colours (the opening being scored for strings, harp and tam-tam). The movement uses a process of continuing variation and develops further the material from the first movement. A central climax forms a powerful arch to the structure (it is the most powerful climax of the whole concerto), after which the music subsides into a transformed recapitulation of the very opening of the work. This moment of tranquility and tonal stability provides the emotional heart of the concerto. It leads directly into the final movement:

And the merry love the fiddle,
And the merry love to dance;
(W B Yeats)

The imagery of the violin in Irish folk-lore is legendary and, again, I have used this as the starting point for this movement, where the violin returns to its universal folk roots. Again, material from the first movement is further developed and transformed. The first idea introduced by the solo violin is, indeed, dance-like, though the music is chromatic and unsettled. The violin attempts to introduce a lyrical idea (singing sweetly) but this is swept aside by the rough intrusion of brass and percussion. The opening idea returns, but again another episode, mainly for the orchestra, interrupts. However, the violin triumphs and this time transforms the opening rondo idea into a modal/tonal resolution reminiscent of Irish folk music (Irish drum and all!).

© Edward Gregson

After a short fanfare introduction it moves into a quasi-march with a somewhat rhythmic and dissonant middle section before returning to a triumphant restatement of the opening fanfare.

© Edward Gregson

As the title suggests it is a festive piece, exuberant in style and lasting some six minutes. Throughout, there is much emphasis on rhythm and the scoring utilises many solo and chamber-like textures. It is cast in rondo form with a longish introduction which announces in fragmented form some of the main ideas. The main theme is light-hearted and exuberant, heard first on clarinets but immediately tossed around the band. The first episode starts quietly but gradually adds layer upon layer of repeated fragments until the whole band is heard (important parts for melodic percussion here). The final statement of the rondo tune is heralded by Tubular Bells and bell-like chords on the brass, after which a short coda brings the work to an exciting conclusion.

Edward Gregson

This work quickly became established in the mainstream repertoire and has received performances worldwide as well as five commercial recordings and many broadcasts.  In 2002 I was approached by the Parc and Dare Band regarding their summer festival and commissioned to do a version for brass band.  This was given its first performance in Treorchy Hall by the combined bands of Black Dyke and Parc and Dare conducted by Nicholas Childs.

When the Royal Air Force Music Services commissioned me to write a work especially for their British tour in 1991 I immediately thought of turning to this music and transforming some of it into a three-movement suite for symphonic band.

The first movement opens with a brief fanfare for two antiphonal trumpets (off-stage), but this only acts as a preface to a Requiem aeternam (the death of Henry V) before changing mood to the English army on the march to France; this subsides into a French victory march, but the English army music returns in counterpoint.  Finally, a brief reminder of the Requiem music leads to the triumphal music for Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, father of Edward IV and Richard III (the opening fanfare transformed).

The second movement takes music from the Welsh Court in Henry IV (part 1) which is tranquil in mood; distant fanfares foreboding battles to come are heard, but the folktune is heard three times in different variations and the movement ends as it began with alto flute and gentle percussion.

The final movement starts with two sets of antiphonally placed timpani, drums and tam-tam, portraying the 'war machine' and savagery of battle.  Trumpet fanfares and horn calls herald an heroic battle theme which, by the end of the movement, transforms itself into a triumphant hymn for Henry IV's defeat of the rebellious forces.

The work is a sequel to the highly successful The Sword and the Crown which was premiered in 1991 by the mass bands of the RAF (and also was an RAF commission). That work was based on music written for the Royal Shakespeare Company productions of The Plantagenets and Henry IV, parts 1 and 2 (for productions between 1988 and 1991).

The Kings go forth is similarly based on musical material for those productions. It uses different thematic elements and incorporates them into a three-movement suite entitled: The Church; The People; The State.

This reflects the fact that in Henry IV Parts 1 and 2, Shakespeare introduces "the People" as an important element in the dramatic structure. The Church and the State are, of course, both leitmotivs throughout the entire plays. An Agnus Dei is heard at the outset from a solo voice. The ensuing Dies Irae is a fast and, at times, quite violent dance. The two sections which form the basis of the second movement, The People, concentrate on popular elements and reflect to some extent the tavern scenes in the plays. The two ideas presented are a harvest hymn reflecting the country scenes set in Gloucestershire, and a jazzy, 'up-tempo' dance based on the medieval song Sumer is icumen in. The third movement, (The State), deals with the "Kings" theme in the title of the piece. The juxtaposition of battle music with funeral music for Henry IV and Henry VI leads to a reworking of the leitmotif from the beginning of the work which is transformed into a triumphant climax.

The title of the work refers to the process of constant change that occurs in the music. The opening four note motif provides most of the intervallic and harmonic material. The work is in three main sections, the first of which alternates between pulsed and non-pulsed (or 'free') music; the second is a slow section with solos for flute and clarinet enhanced by electronic means, whilst the third is high-charged rhythmic music which resolves the symphonic argument.

Edward Gregson

In the audience at the first performance, given by a student brass quintet, was Philip Jones, who took up the work and gave it its first professional performance as well as a broadcast on BBC Radio 3. Soon after, the Quintet was also taken up by Hallé Brass, who recorded it commercially. It was the composer’s first published work with Novello, who remain as his main publisher today. The work is dedicated to the Philip Jones Brass Ensemble.

The Quintet is in two movements. The first movement is in three sections marked Andante sostenuto, Allegro scherzando, followed by a reprise of the opening Andante. The opening horn melody, built on fourths, provides much of the material for the movement. The answering semiquaver rhythms on muted trumpets become the background accompaniment for the middle section scherzo. This scherzo is frenetic in character and consists of upward leaping sevenths, with various effects such as trills, flutter-tongues, and glissandi. The opening tranquil section returns, this time in canonic form.

The second movement is marked Allegro molto ritmico and the march-like character of the music is apparent from the outset. The movement is cast in rondo form and the main theme is built on arpeggio-like figures on the trumpets. The first episode is more lyrical and slightly ‘bluesy’ with the horn taking the lead, whilst the second is a fugato built on the opening melody of the work, but this time extended into a twelve-note chromatic subject. The opening rondo tune returns and the work concludes with a brilliant coda.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

Toccata (a fast but majestic dance with changing time patterns).

Aria 1 (horn solo over an ostinato for trombone and tube - a middle section uses overlapping contrapuntal lines [creating cluster harmonies] for trumpets and trombone with harmon mutes).

Scherzo (a short but frenetic movement built on short melodic and rhythmic patterns - piccolo trumpet used).

Aria 2 (in the manner of a funeral march for two flugel horns with simple chordal support).

Burlesque (a highly-charged dance, fragmented in nature) joined to:

Toccata (reprise).

The work lasts for some 15 minutes and is quite virtuosic in character.

Edward Gregson

The work lasts for some ten minutes and is structured in three main sections. The opening section(and 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far ancestral voices prophesying war) is dramatic with the oboe announcing two ideas - the first a high repeated note rhythmic pattern (later with multi-phonics) which is answered by six differently pitched drums and temple blocks, and the second a short lyrical phrase mainly built on thirds.

In the second section (a damsel with a dulcimer in a vision once I saw...could I revive within me her symphony and song) the solo oboe transforms the repeated notes and thirds of the first section into a love song, underpinned by the percussionist's vibraphone and crotales. A short reprise of the very opening leads into the final section (Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice...) which mirrors the text with three short dances in chain form, folk-like in character and increasingly climactic. A final reprise of the opening seems to suggest a violent end, but the works ends gently with the oboe's minor thirds of the love song echoed by the percussionist's crotales.

The concerto is in four movements which are played without a break: Meditation, Intermezzo, Toccata-Scherzo and Song. The work lasts for some 18 minutes and is scored for two oboes, two horns, timpani (doubling tubular bells) and strings. It is organised in one large arch-shaped structure, with two fast inner movements flanked by two outer slow ones.

The solo cello opens the work reflectively, and introduces core melodic material which is continuously developed throughout the concerto. Gradually the strings enter, then wind and timpani, and build a pyramid twelve-note chord, at the peak of which there is a dramatic climax. The music then subsides (solo cello again), but links to the two faster middle movements.

The second movement - Intermezzo - has an ABA structure and in its middle section quotes the opening of Shostakovich's Third String Quartet (written in the same year as Christopher Rowland was born!). Indeed, the ghost of Shostakovich looms large throughout the concerto in more ways than one. The Toccata-Scherzo is energetic and rhythmically-charged, again using an ABA structure. Here the writing for solo cello is quite virtuosic, but not, I hope, in a shallow sense. The music builds inexorably towards a powerful climax, underpinned by the opening twelve note chord's re-appearance, together with a violent outburst from the timpani, at which point a tonal resolution (on G) arrives through a pianissimo held chord on strings which leads directly to the final movement - Song.

And so the music arrives at its emotional heart through a simple melody (present in other forms throughout the work) announced by solo cello at the very top of its register, against a quiet backdrop of horns and strings. A solo oboe enters, with cello in canonic reply, and all the time the music builds in texture and intensity, now with tubular bells joining in the joyful and optimistic conclusion.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

© Copyright Edward Gregson

© Copyright Edward Gregson

© Copyright Edward Gregson

© Copyright Edward Gregson

The work has three movements: Nobility of Youth, Sadness and Tenderness and Gaiety. In Nobility of Youth there are the rich sonorities beloved of Salvationist composers such as Eric Ball and, particularly, Ray Steadman Allen, whose music he admired. The modal contour of the melodies here and at the climax of the slow movement Sadness and Tenderness reveal lessons well learned from Holst and Vaughan Williams. Gaiety is probably the most interesting amalgam of all. Beginning in the harmonic world of Gilbert Vinter - whose influence Gregson readily acknowledges at this time - the music is transformed into a bravura waltz of which Percy Grainger might have been proud. It then veers off via a contrapuntal episode of academic correctness, into a coda that takes us into more adventurous harmonic realms.

Copyright Paul Hindmarsh

Each of the Concerto's three movements displays a different facet of the French Horn's character. The first is serious, symphonic in impulse, the rising fourths of the opening gesture giving the music an almost Germanic weight. In the slow movement, the soloist becomes the first among equals, sharing with the cornet soloist some typically haunting melodies. The lyrical flow is interrupted at the mid-point by mysterious, fleet-of-foot cadenzas. A rondo finale brings the concerto to a lighthearted conclusion. The rising fourths here are the impulse for a jaunty theme which reveals another of Gregson's early influences - William Walton, and in particular that composer's Partita for orchestra.

Paul Hindmarsh

The Overture is cast in a sonata form exposition, with a slow central section, giving the opportunity for expressive cornet and euphonium solos. The final section begins with a strict fugal exposition which leads to a recapitulation of the opening material and a powerful climax built on the opening pyramid of fifths, which remains unresolved.

Copyright Edward Gregson

After a short fanfare introduction it moves into a quasi-march with a somewhat rhythmic and dissonant middle section before returning to a triumphant restatement of the opening fanfare.

Edward Gregson 

The second movement, Chorale and Variations, uses the Dies Irae as the basis for an extended melody in the manner of a baroque sarabande. The five variations that follow are varied in texture, tempi, and dynamics. The final March is more optimistic in mood and presents as its main idea a rather jaunty theme which gets developed throughout the movement. However, the ominous presence of the Dies Irae has the last say with a final statement to round off the work.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

Intrada is in three sections, the first and last being similar. The middle section unfolds an expansive chromatic melody, heard initially on the horns, but later in canon between cornets and trombones. The work is lively throughout and has strong rhythmic elements as its chief characteristic, including changing time patterns and syncopations.

The work began life in the early sixties, the Capriccio being composed when I was 17. I added a Prelude to complete the work, which lasts for approximately 8 minutes. The Prelude is reflective in character and uses long melodic lines over undulating chromatic harmony. The music reaches a climax before a brief reprise of the opening. The Capriccio is somewhat jazzy in its opening syncopated rhythms, but has a more lyrical middle section before a finale exploiting the virtuoso character of the instrument.

I took as my starting point the 18th century concerto grosso form with its element of contrast between small and large instrumental forces. The concertino (solo) group consists of cornet, horn, trombone and euphonium. The work is cast in one continuous movement (the old concerto grosso was often in three or more). The single movement is cast in the arch-like version of the ritornello form which was the mainstay of the baroque concerto. There are three main episodes which alternate with the ritornello and these exploit slow lyrical melodies as well as more rhythmically charged music. The final coda contrasts the ritornello material with the concertino group's own material, bringing the work to a resounding conclusion.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

Although the writing is naturally virtuosic in a way which is obvious for such a solo instrument within the brass band, it never the less unfolds many more lyrical aspects of the instrument's capabilities. Towards the end of the piece the tune is heard once again in its full version, leading to a coda where the euphonium takes centre stage in a bravura manner.

Copyright Edward Gregson

In this ambitious symphonic study he turned his attention to music which sets out to create a mood or atmosphere, in contrast to his earlier brass band works such as Essay and Partita where the underlying concerns are technical rather than expressive. However, Gregson is at pains to emphasise that The Plantagenets is not programme music. ‘Symphonic’ is the optimum word here. In its textural and harmonic complexity, its rhythmic and melodic variety, this was his most ambitious brass band piece so far. His language, with its roots in Hindemith and Bartok is further enriched here with the expressive language of Holst and Rachmaninov.

As he says in his notes on the work: The Plantagenets attempts to portray the mood and feelings of an age – that of the House of Plantagenet which lasted from the middle of the twelfth century to the end of the fourteenth. To many it conjures up an age of chivalry and this is represented by fanfare motifs which occur throughout the work in varied form.

Characteristically, the composer then goes on to describe not the atmosphere or mood he is trying to convey, but the means by which the music has been composed: the opening fanfares, based on the interval of the third, generating the musical material for the whole work; an exposition of two themes – one fanfare-like, one lyrical (on horns); a slow episode introducing a new melody on solo horn (answered by cornet and euphonium in canon); a little scherzo, fugal in character; and a recapitulation leading to a maestoso statement of the slow movement theme with a final reference to the fanfares as a triumphant conclusion.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

The music here possesses a neo-classical, pristine quality. In the central episode, the same triadic figure is transformed into a lilting barcarolle-like dialogue beginning on solo cornet and horn. When the whole band becomes involved, the trombones add a moment of bi-tonal ambiguity, which sets in motion an exuberant Latin dance and final flourish. Patterns was commissioned by the Butlins Youth Brass Band Championships for the 1974 competition at the Royal Albert Hall.

© Copyright Paul Hindmarsh

Gregson uses the same tune in his Chalk Farm No. 2 march, but this is a symphonic march clearly to be played sitting down. He includes irregular bars of 5 and 7 beats as well as a tongue-in-cheek treatment of th etuen, complete with bongos (in the march) and bi-tonality (in the trio). Chalk Farm No. 2 imaginatively composed. Gregson's own main theme 'fits' the chorus as a counter-subject. The playful irreverence of the style has more in common with Wilfred Heaton's Praise or Glory', glory than the conventional Salvation Army March.

Copyright Paul Hindmarsh

The concerto is in three movements, following the usual, quick-slow-quick pattern: Allegro deciso, Lento e mesto, Allegro giocoso. The first movement has a sonata form shell with two contrasting themes, the first one being rhythmic in character, the second lyrical. There is a reference made in passing to the Vaughan Williams Tuba Concerto, but this merges into the other material in the development section.

The second movement begins with a chorale, but after the entry of the tuba it leads to a cantabile theme, softly unfolded by the soloist. The opening chorale passage returns, this time briefly on muted brass, and leads to a middle section which is more chromatic in style and soon builds to a powerful climax, where the opening cantabile theme triumphantly returns. The music subsides, returning to the opening chorale and ending peacefully.

The finale is light and breezy in style, and is cast in rondo form. After a brief introduction the tuba announces the main rondo theme, which is dance-like and a little jaunty. There are two episodes: the first a broad sweeping tune, the second a slowish waltz and a little jazz-like. After a virtuoso cadenza reference is made to the very opening of the concerto before the work ends with a triumphal flourish.

The Tuba Concerto has established itself as one of the main works in the solo tuba repertoire. It has been performed and broadcast in over 40 countries all over the world. There are currently six commercial recordings of the concerto in its various versions.resolution in C major, pointed by a simple but expansive melody towards which the piece has been heading, and ending in a blaze of joyful colour.

Edward Gregson has always found the requirement for Salvationist band music to include a familiar religious tune less than stimulating. However, in Sir Hubert Parry’s marvellous hymn tune O Worship The King, Gregson found a melody which, with its simple but strong contour and crisp and clear phrasing, was compatible with his own by now fully-developed musical language.

In his variations, Edward Gregson has always tried to avoid the obvious or predictable. The Chorale and Variations (in Partita) are unconventional in structure and content. In Connotations (1977) he transformed variations into something more flexible. ‘Theme within variations’ might be a more apt description. A more exact title for Laudate Dominum might well be ‘Variations and Theme’, since Parry’s noble melody is not heard in its full glory until the end of the work.

Now that Salvationist music is available to all brass bands, Variations on Laudate Dominum has become the favourite among bands all over the world of Edward Gregson’s pre-Connotations music.

© Copyright Paul Hindmarsh

At the age of 32 Gregson was the youngest composer to have received the honour of such a commission.  It came at the end of a productive five years writing for the brass band publisher R Smith.  Some of those works – The Plantagenets, Essayand Patterns for example, with their direct and tuneful style, have remained popular with brass bands the world over. 

For Gregson, these were the means by which he sharpened the tools of his trade, preparing the ground, as it were, for his finest work to date – Connotations.  He thought of calling the piece Variations on a Fourth, but with due deference to Gilbert Vinter perhaps (Variations on a Ninth), he chose a more appropriate one.  As Gregson has written, ‘Connotations suggests more than one way of looking at something, an idea, and this is exactly what the piece is about’.

Writing a competition piece brought its own problems.  ‘It has to be technicall difficult and yet musically satisfying.  I didn’t like being kept to an eleven-minute maximum.  The inclusion of short cadenzas for less usual solo instruments seems to signify a certain test-piece mentality’.

Gregson solved the problems admirably by adopting a symphonic approach to variation form: Introduction – fanfares, a call to attention, in effect Variation 1; Theme – a six-note motif, given a lyrical and restrained first statement; Variation 2 - a delicate toccata; Variation 3 – typically robust in melody and rhythm; Variation 4 – lyrical solos; Variation 5 – a scherzo; Variation 6 – cadenzas; Variations 7-9 – an introduction, fugato and resounding restatement of the theme.

© Copyright Paul Hindmarsh

Dances and Arias is in one continuous movement, but as the title suggests is a series of alternating fast and slow sections as follows: Dance-Aria I - Dance(scherzo) - Aria II - Dance. The opening dance is energetic and introduces a four-note motif (on trombones) which is the basis for much of the melodic material in the work. Throughout, there is a continuous process of thematic cross-reference and transformation.

The first aria unfolds a long melody on solo cornet, eventually continued by all the solo cornets, and dissolving into a shimmering harmonic background (muted cornets, horns and baritones) over which is heard a brief self-quotation on solo tuba. This leads into the second dance, a frenetic scherzo, followed by the second aria, in the style of a lament (solo euphonium, followed by two flugel horns). This builds to a powerful climax which subsides, leaving the percussion to introduce the final toccata-like dance. It transforms material from the opening before a coda brings the music to a triumphant close. The large percussion section is an integral part in the work and uses a wide variety of instruments including timpani, glockenspiel, vibraphone, xylophone, tubular bells, tom-toms, snare drum, bongos and tam-tam.

The work is dedicated to my brother and sister.

Edward Gregson

© Copyright Edward Gregson

Here is the composer's outline of the work:

Of Men and Mountains is dedicated to the memory of Eric Ball, who died shortly before Gregson started work on the piece. As he says in his note, 'I greatly admired the man and his music and I am sure he would have shared the feelings behind the inspiration for this work.'

© Edward Gregson

This new version for brass band was commissioned by the Yorkshire Building Society Band specially for their concert at the 1995 BBC Festival of Brass on February 12. The performance was conducted by Nicholas Childs.

Processional has been recorded on the Doyen label in the Gregson Brass series (Volume 3).

© Copyright Edward Gregson

and I saw the seven angels which stood before God; and to them
were given seven trumpets

Thus the idea behind the work is dramatic and I have tried to achieve this by the spatial deployment of seven solo trumpets around the band, four on-stage, the others off-stage. Six of the solo trumpets eventually join the band, but Trumpet 7 remains off-stage and, indeed, has the most dramatic and extended cadenza representing the words of the seventh angel and time shall be no more.

The Trumpets of the Angels is a large-scale work, scored for seven solo trumpets, brass band, organ and percussion (deploying 'dark' instruments such as tam-tams, bass drum and two sets of timpani). The work opens with a four-note motif announced by off-stage horns and baritones and answered by fanfare figures on solo trumpets. In turn, each of the first four solo trumpets play cadenzas and then all four join together, independently playing their own music. The organ enters dramatically with its own cadenza, leading to the entry of solo trumpets 5 and 6 with music that is more urgent and rhythmic, describing the horsemen of the Apocalypse.

The music reaches another climax, more intense this time, with the horns and baritones (now on-stage) again sounding the transformed motif, before subsiding into what might be described as a lament for humanity, slow music which builds from low to high, from soft to loud, with a melody that is both simple and poignant. At the climax, Trumpet 7 enters playing the opening four-note motif, dramatically extended to almost three octaves. This cadenza (to the partial accompaniment of tam-tams) introduces new material and foreshadows the ensuing scherzo which is fast and aggressive. Despite the somewhat desolate mood of this music, it slowly moves towards an optimistic conclusion, transforming the 'humanity' music into an affirmative and triumphant statement.

Edward Gregson

As a young and aspiring composer I was obviously influenced at that stage by a number of composers and I am sure that this can be heard in this particular work. The most obviously influences are perhaps Poulenc, Hindermith and Bernstein. However, there is something of the English tradition in the lyrical slow movement. The first movement is structured in a contracted sonata form, whilst the last movement is an exuberant and highly rhythmic rondo exploiting the extravert side of the oboe.

© Edward Gregson

The work began life in the early sixties, the Capriccio being composed when I was 17. I added a Prelude to complete the work, which lasts for approximately 8 minutes. The Prelude is reflective in character and uses long melodic lines over undulating chromatic harmony. The music reaches a climax before a brief reprise of the opening. The Capriccio is somewhat jazzy in its opening syncopated rhythms, but has a more lyrical middle section before a finale exploiting the virtuoso character of the instrument.

The title Six Little Piano Pieces has of course been used before, most notably by Schoenberg in his Op. 19 (1911) set. Although my pieces are not in any real sense a homage to that set, they do apply some of the same compositional procedures – compression of form, motivic use of a limited number of pitches, a concentration on timbre and texture, and a reduction of the means of musical expression.

As with Schoenberg’s set, my pieces are not ‘little’ in any other sense than being relatively short. In fact two of the pieces ( 4 and 6) are quite extended and technically demanding, whilst some are whimsical (No. 2) and make use of parody (the quasi-Viennese waltz of No. 5). Two of the pieces were sketched when I was a student, whilst others were sketches for my much larger Piano Sonata in one movement which was completed in 1983. However, I have tried to unify the pieces in a number of ways – most particularly by temporal relationships and the use of common material.

Finally, although I am not a Schoenbergian, it must be said that I do doff my hat in his direction with some admiration in these pieces.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

In 1997, the composer made a new version of Three Matisse Impressions for recorder, strings, harp and percussion. This version, which is dedicated to John Turner, was premiered by the dedicatee and the Northern Chamber Orchestra.

© Edward Gregson

Written for solo tuba, the title of the work derives from an old English word meaning a "call to arms" and Gregson interpreted this to be a "primeval call", hence the opening gesture of the piece which is meant to imitate a tribal-like intensity. The piece is divided into three main sections and runs continuously. The first section is aggressive, nervous, and yet lyrical. The second section melodic and peaceful, but reaching a climax when the two themes (lyrical and rhythmic) are juxtaposed against each other. The last section is dance-like in character with changing time patterns which lead back to the very opening statement, the alarum of the piece. There are no time signatures and seldom bar lines. The rhythmic values are, however, strict and proportional. The notation appears less cluttered as a result and gives greater freedom to the soloist with regard to phrasing.

After finishing the work, it became apparent to me that it might become the sketch for the slow movement of a Violin Concerto which I had just begun working on. It did indeed form the basis of that slow movement and the concerto was premiered by Lyn Fletcher and the Hall Orchestra, conducted by Kent Nagano, at the Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, in February 2000.

Edward Gregson

In 1981 I revised and enlarged the work extensively specially for the Market Harborough Singers, who gave the first performance under Barry Clark at the Purcell Room, London, on 18 April 1982. The revised (and published) version is for mixed choir and piano.

The work is dedicated to the memory of my mother.

Although I have used William Blake's title for my group of songs, the poems I have chosen are not by him. My use of the title, however, has a direct link with Blake - the sentiments are the same.

Innocence and Experience here have a further meaning. I wrote the first two songs in 1965 whilst still a student (with Alan Bush at the Royal Academy of Music), while the latter three were completed only within the last two months.

The poems are as follows:

The first two represent Innocence and are concerned with the qualities of human love, and of the eternal symbol of nature.

The last three are concerned with cruelty and injustice in society, with the last poem at least summoning up some hope for the individual, a sort of rebirth, paralleling Blake's visionary view of life. 'And through your victory I shall win the light'.

Edward Gregson - December 1980

The idea of writing a work for boys' voices, baritone solo and symphonic wind came about as a gradual process. In the back of my mind was the wonderful Stravinsky Mass of 1948 for similar (though smaller) forces. Stravinsky's preference in his mixed choir was for the purity of boys' treble voices. For a long time I had wanted to set the text of the Latin Mass, but in themselves the words were too abstract for my purpose and so, gradually, the idea of a central English text emerged, as did the thematic element. The concept of Peace (particularly of finding a personal peace) became the basis of this text, and was written by my wife, Susan Gregson.

The final words of the Mass are, of course, Dona nobis pacem (Give us Peace). The entry of the baritone in English at the close of the work is mirrored by the entry of the boys' voices with the Latin words at the end of the baritone solo.

The Mass is structured in an arch shape, with the baritone solo acting as the central emotional core of the music. The work begins and ends quietly, pivoting on the pitch of E both times. The opening Kyrie is full of foreboding with its middle Christie eleison suddenly faster and rhythmic. The Gloria is highly-charged but joyful, ending in a blaze of G major, whilst the Sanctus is majestic and centered on B flat (a tritone away from the opening E), but moving upwards to a triumphant C major for the Osanna in excelsis. The Benedictus unashamedly unfolds a simple and expressive melody sung by a solo treble. The final Agnus Dei returns to the unsettling atmosphere of the Kyrie with harsh brass fanfares and jagged rhythms from the orchestra, whilst the boys' voices mirror this with chromatic phrases and low intoned B flats on the words Miserere nobis. The music moves back to the opening E of the Kyrie and the peaceful conclusion the work has been waiting for.

Throughout the Mass there are references to other musical sources - a deliberate attempt to create aural memories for the listener. Hence the ghosts of Bach, Britten and Stravinsky are never far away (the B minor Mass, the War Requiem and the 1948 Mass respectively). It is no coincidence that the first performance was in the very place that Britten himself created as part of his own musical dream.

(text by Susan Gregson)
'Peace in our time'
Or so they said.
Words just words
To a fanfare of guns
To the cries of the dead.

Peace is elsewhere.

Loud proclamations!
Their promises, our hopes,
Falling, dying in the air
As men fall
And die
For this word
This manufactured peace.

Peace is elsewhere.

Not with the dead but with the living
Is Peace
No dusty dream dreamed
In the night. But
As light in the morning comes
As the seasons' rhythms run
So within us
Is Peace.

Peace is here.
Peace is within our hearts.
Dona nobis pacem.

The work has three main sections (fast-slow-fast) and is essentially jubilant in nature. After a brief instrumental introduction the choir enters, with the first two verses of the Psalm. This reaches a climax on the word singing after which the music subsides into more tranquil section for female voices, who sing a reflective melody on the words Know ye, surrounded by various counter melodies on solo horn and trumpet. Male voices then take over this tune (inverted) and the final comment is left to unaccompanied choir, leaving sopranos on a held low D. At this point the last section begins. The mood is set by Organ and Percussion and the style takes off its hat to minimalism, with multi-layered textures underpinning the choral unison on the word Enter. Eventually the tonality heads towards G major and a reprise of the opening music, with a coda full of energetic exuberance.

The published version (Novello) is for choir and organ. The full version is available on hire from the publisher.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

The genesis of the work came from a commission which I undertook for the official opening of the Bridgewater Hall in December 1996 - on that occasion a short piece entitled Welcome for the Manchester Boys Choir, with organ, brass and percussion. This new and enlarged version is scored for mixed choir, piano duet and percussion and is a short anthem for which I have written my own text.

In some ways the anthem harks back to the 17th century models of Purcell, but otherwise is quite contemporary in its approach. It opens with arpeggio figures on the piano and long melodic lines for female voices. Gradually the other voices enter and the music transforms into a fast and rhythmic middle section to the words 'with singing and dancing', and is exuberant in nature. Eventually the music returns to the opening but this time it leads to an exultant and climactic coda.

Edward Gregson 1998

The Dance, forever the Dance is a large-scale work for mezzo-soprano, chorus and orchestra, lasting some thirty minutes. It is in four movements, mirroring the structure of traditional symphonic form - in fact it could be described as a symphony for voices and orchestra. The majesty and vigour of the first movement (Dance of Joy) is complimented by the lyrical restraint of the second (Dance of Love), whilst the third (Dance of Death) is both sinister and sensual and parodies a Viennese waltz rather in the manner of Ravel's La Valse. The final movement (Dance of Life) banishes the darkness of the previous movement with extrovert exuberance, winding its way via highly rhythmically-charged rhetoric and Tippett-like contrapuntal passages, to 'bluesy' seductiveness; but the work ends in a blaze of life-affirming colour. The mezzo-soprano soloist has a prominent role in the second and fourth movements.

The text has been compiled from a variety of sources - including Byron, Lewis Carroll, Oscar Wilde, and WH Auden - which use 'dance' as a metaphor for life in its various guises. In particular, the first movement uses words by Byron: On with the dance, let joy be unconfined, and Lewis Carroll: Will you, won't you, join in the dance, whilst the second uses the well-known text of a medieval mystery play: Tomorrow shall be my dancing day. The third movement uses almost the entire text from a poem written in 1883 in Paris by Oscar Wilde - The Harlot's House, whilst the final movement includes a four-line quotation from a WH Auden poem.

The work is scored for large symphony orchestra, including harp, piano and celeste, and antiphonal off-stage trumpets.

© Copyright Edward Gregson

In this volume I have attempted to introduce rhythmic complexities progressively and in such a manner as to educate the student in the best possible way through enjoyment. Experience has proven that these concepts are most readily digested when presented to players at an early stage of their development.

I have also attempted to use a number of different musical structures and techniques so as to provide the young player with an experience of certain elements of contemporary music. Thus, Improvisation in the Pentatonic the students are encouraged to develop their creative imagination within an established framework. Other pieces, such as Dance in 5/8 time and Dance in 7/8 time explore asymmetrical rhythms whilst New Sounds explores harmonic clusters. Although the pieces are intended to be used for education purposes, they can also be built into a small concert suite by selecting various contrasting pieces.

Copyright Edward Gregson

Much of the music used in these productions was adapted into two large symphonic suites for wind band - The Sword and the Crown (1991) and The Kings Go Forth (1996). An Age of Kings is the version for brass band, written specially for this recording (2004). It incorporates music from both the symphonic suites for wind band.

An Age of Kings is music on a large-scale canvas, scored for augmented brass band, with the addition of harp, piano, mezzo-soprano solo, male chorus, as well as two off-stage trumpets. The music is also organized on a large-scale structure, in three movements, which play without a break - "Church and State", "At the Welsh Court", and "Battle Music and Hymn of Thanksgiving".

The first movement, "Church and State", opens with a brief fanfare for two antiphonal trumpets (off-stage), but this only acts as a preface to a Requiem aeternam (the death of Henry V) before changing mood to the English army on the march to France; this subsides into a French victory march, but with the English army music returning in counterpoint. A brief reminder of the Requiem music leads to the triumphal music for Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, father of Edward IV and Richard III (the opening fanfare transformed). However, the mood changes dramatically once again, with the horrors of war being portrayed in the darkly-drawn Dies Irae and Dance of Death, leading to the final section of the first movement, a funeral march for Henry VI.

The second movement, "At the Welsh Court", takes music from the Welsh Court in Henry IV part 1 with a simple Welsh folk tune sung by mezzo-soprano to the inevitable accompaniment of a harp. This love song is interrupted by distant fanfares, forewarning of battles to come. However, the folk song returns with variation in the musical fabric. The movement ends as it began with off-stage horn and gentle percussion.

Four Pictures were originally published by Oxford University Press, with numbers three and four published more recently by them in a volume entitled Piano Duets by Twentieth-Century British Composers.

Copyright Edward Gregson

The story tells of the adventures of some children caught up in the magical realms beyond Earth. They are transported into space to rescue the Moonraker, held captive by the god Thor. They enlist the help of the mythological Salamander to carry them through Thor's barrier of fire and rescue the Moonraker and take her back to the Moon.

The music is scored for large children's choir, melodic and non-melodic percussion instruments, with the addition of an adult narrator, piano duet, and percussionist. The work is unified by the use of a four-note melodic 'cell' (C, D flat, G flat, G) which makes various appearances throughout the work. The tritone encompassed in this 'cell' is also of great significance. The music is widely contrasting in its use of 'free' passages and set songs, some 'popular' in style and idiom.

The cantata falls into eight main sections, each of which has a sub-title as follows:
Introduction, The Salamander's Song, Glittering Galaxy, The Moonraker's Song, Thor God of Thunder, We want the Moonraker, Thor's Thunderstorm, Going Home.

The cantata lasts for some 25 minutes.

Copyright Edward Gregson

Copyright Edward Gregson

Copyright Edward Gregson

The Prelude is in sonata form with a contracted recapitulation. There are two main themes, the first announced after the opening flourish on piano. The second theme is lyrical in character and the interplay between these two themes forms the main focus of the movement.

The pensive Nocturne opens with an introduction from the band which contains hints of the two main ideas to follow. The solo piano announces the main theme, which has a slightly 'blues' character in its flattened third and seventh notes of the scale. The band enters with the chorale theme already heard in the introduction. Eventually the first theme returns, this time from piano and band and building to a powerful climax before subsiding to a peaceful ending.

The Rondo is full of energetic rhythms and changing time patterns. The main theme is 'giocoso' in character and in the first episode there is more than a hint of the tune 'Onward Christian Soldiers' in what amounts to a good humoured parody. Before the final coda there is a long piano cadenza underlying the virtuoso element of the work.

As the title suggests, my Serenata Notturna evokes the atmosphere of night music. Following a reflective opening, where the pitch development outlines a twelve-note series, the music gradually becomes more agitated, developing into a kind of danse macabre, which eventually reaches a powerful climax. The music then subsides into a much more tranquil atmosphere and the previous dissonant material transposes itself into a simple melody (like a lullaby), uttered by the violin, the outline of which, both melodically and in terms of the accompaniment figuration, has already been present in the piece from the beginning. Thus the turmoil of the first part of the work becomes transfigured into something much more peaceful - hence the quotation at the beginning of the score: out of darkness cometh light.

Edward Gregson

The Romance is a short and simply structured piece in ternary form, with a cadenza inserted just before the contracted recapitulation. The stylistic influences can probably be traced to English romantics such as Ireland and Bax, whom I had obviously just discovered (the following year I was to commence studies with Alan Bush, himself a student of John Ireland).

This new version of the Romance was specially written in 2003 for a commercial recording on the Campion label, performed by John Turner (the dedicatee).

© Edward Gregson

The work is scored for alto saxophone, doubling soprano saxophone in the second movement, and symphony orchestra, with important parts for piano and kit percussion. The work lasts for some 24 minutes and is cast in three linked movements. Although the movements have no formal titles they do express certain ideas, so that the first movement could be described as of the city, the second movement of love, and the third movement of life.

The work opens in a slightly unusual way which I shall not reveal here. However, the mood of the slow introduction is rather improvisatory - a sort of interplay between the soloist and various sections of the orchestra. The movement proper is fast, rhythmic, sometimes jazzy, sometimes violent, and expresses the diverse landscape of an urban environment. The more relaxed second subject is calmer in mood and more obviously tonal, although each time this settled harmonic world is invaded by subversive elements.

As in the transition from the introduction to the first movement proper, the held pitch of C on the violas links to the reflective slow movement where the solo soprano saxophone gradually develops a lyrical melodic expression. Initially this is set against a background of chromatic harmony, but as the movement progresses, so the harmonic context becomes simpler until the final 'song' expresses a heartfelt sadness in modal C minor. Once again, the held pitch of C links directly to the final movement.

This final movement is a buoyant moto perpetuo which exploits the virtuoso side of the alto saxophone, both in technique and character. The movement is structured around a repeated quaver ostinato, which moves through each note of the chromatic scale until, eventually, it returns to C, but this time reaching a harmonic and tonal resolution in C major, pointed by a simple but expansive melody towards which the piece has been heading, and ending in a blaze of joyful colour.

The title of the work has been used before, of course, most notably by Tchaikovsky in his work for cello and orchestra. My set of variations follows the Tchaikovskian model in that it is based on a quasi-Baroque original theme, and has certain 'dance-like' characteristics in the variations, but beyond that all comparisons end.

There are six variations: Toccata, Siciliana, Waltz, Moto Perpetuo, Lament, and Fugal Scherzo, followed by a triumphant re-statement of the theme. Throughout, there is considerable contrast in the music, with the fast variations being rather virtuoso in character, sometimes with constantly changing time patterns, whilst the two slow variations (Siciliana and Lament) are in turn lyrical and pensive in mood with prominent solos and duets for a number of instruments.

Although the work overall is dedicated by my brother, each of the six variations pays tribute to a different composer whose contribution to the brass band repertoire during the second half of the twentieth century has been of great significance. To this end, all six composers have their own 'musical signature' embraced within the particular variation, a process which reaches its zenith, contrapuntally speaking, during the final variation and reprise of the theme.

The composer writes: "I have always thought of Christina Rossetti's moving poem Remember as a love poem, albeit a rather sad and thoughtful one. The combination I was asked to write for is an unusual one, but offers a composer a chance to create a particular sound world, something I have tried to achieve. I have followed the structure of the poem, a Petrarchan sonnet published in 1879, by setting the first eight lines rather 'darkly', but mirroring in the ensuing six lines the rather transforming change of mood; thus the music moves from darkness to light, one of the recurring musical gestures in my recent music."

The music is in three movements: Prelude, Scherzo and Postlude. The outer movements are slow and thoughtful, while the middle Scherzo is rather astringent in character, with virtuoso demands made on the players. The Prelude begins with a duet for the two horns, answered by baritone and tuba, the material being rather rhetorical in style and although the Postlude begins in a similar fashion it also develops material from the Scherzo (slowed down of course) in the manner of a fugal exposition. The music ends with a series of quiet chords.

The First Quartet is really a miniature in terms of length, lasting less than six minutes. However, it packs a lot of punch in its two connected movements, a Prelude and a Capriccio. The Prelude is lyrical in style and opens with a rising figure (covering a major seventh) on euphonium answered by muted cornets. These ideas form the material for the movement which is arch shape in structure. The opening returns, immediately followed by a transition passage which leads directly into the turbulent Capriccio. This is rather Bartokian in style (I was very influenced by Bartok in my student days and had closely studied his six string quartets), in the manner of a Hungarian dance in 5/8 time. The constantly changing metric patterns give the music a rather disruptive quality, but also an opportunity for the players to show their virtuoso abilities.

In looking for a particular painting from the artist’s considerable output on which to base my new work I was drawn to one entitled Goddess (1980), unusual in the artist’s output for its subject matter. In a largely blue canvas it depicts a seemingly lonely reclining female figure - sensuous, beguiling, and preoccupied. I have written a slow movement which tries to capture this haunting image in sound.

Written for a string orchestra of 15 players, it features an important role for a solo viola (the Goddess of the painting). In turn, the music tries to reflect the different moods I felt from the canvass - sinister, reflective, haunting, captivating, and peaceful. The work begins and ends on the pitch of A (a double bass harmonic) and is diverse in its contrast of chromatic and diatonic harmonies. There is a strong lyrical presence throughout, particularly towards the end of the piece.

My approach in tackling this commission was to ‘invade’ Mahler’s world of musical ideas; indeed, the title of the work, Dream Song, is intended to portray a half-remembered landscape of some of the themes and motives from his Sixth Symphony, fragmented (or deconstructed) as if in a dream, with the all-pervading presence of the opening phrase (more often than not, only the first four notes) of the so-called ‘Alma’ theme from the first movement, used as a kind of leitmotif, and giving the work a thematic coherence of sorts. Of course, in a mere 20 minutes it is impossible to re-create the large-scale contrasting emotional turmoil of this particular symphony, but I have tried to create a parallel musical world, albeit in contracted form, encompassing it within an arch-shaped one movement structure - slow, fast, slow, beginning loudly and ending quietly.

My starting point was the opening of the final movement of the symphony, both in its harmonic uncertainty and vivid orchestration. My opening gesture consists of a ten-note chord of alternating major and minor triads, presented rather violently by wind, brass, and percussion, then echoed on pianissimo strings. The device, or building block, of using triadic harmony, derives of course from the Mahler. One of the ideas I refer to frequently is his ‘fate motif’ - a major triad ‘resolving’ on to a minor one. Somewhat significantly, however, I have ‘transposed’ this into a more optimistic minor to major resolution.

In terms of thematicism, besides the ‘Alma’ theme referred to above, I have also used various fragmented quotations from other parts of the symphony; for example, the first few notes of the upwardly soaring violin passage from the beginning of the symphony’s final movement. Then, in the dramatic and extended middle section, where I mirror Mahler’s Scherzo and Trio formal construction, I use two short motives from his Scherzo: the rising arpeggio figure associated with the woodwind, and the falling minor thirds dance-like motive. These are not used as acts of ‘homage’ but rather as reference points. Similarly, when Mahler marks his Trio with the description alvterisch (in an olden style), I employ a similar gesture in that my music is deliberately diatonic and ‘pastoral’ in style, but this music is regularly interrupted by more disruptive elements. Additionally, instead of the distant cowbellsMahler uses in other parts of the symphony to summon up his idyllic memories of walking in the Austrian Alps, I employ more ‘urban’ steel pans - thus Art mirrors contemporary Life!

After Dream Song’s opening section there is a mood of further uncertainty, underpinned by undulating arabesques on harp, celesta, and woodwind, where the music seems to be searching for a melody, first on cellos, then violas and violins; but this comes to nothing and subsides into a ‘dreamlike’ passage (string harmonics, melodic percussion and celesta), where we hear a fragment of the tuba theme from Mahler’s final movement. The music becomes yet more restless, summoning in pounding bass and timpani repeated B flats of the Scherzo referred to above, one that is perhaps even more menacing than Mahler’s, with dissonant clusters and rather ‘violent’ orchestration. Only the Trio relieves this tension, with its ‘open’ harmony and pastoral solos for woodwinds and strings, before plunging yet again into the Scherzo’s relentless rhythmic propulsion. This time however it leads to the work’s main climax, via a quasi-Bach fugal exposition to an exultant C major triadic harmonic explosion, only to be interrupted and taken over by repeated note dissonant fanfare-like figures on brass and percussion.

The music subsides into the earlier ‘dreamlike’ episode, before progressing to what is really the emotional core of the work: a Liebeslied, or Love Song - a resolution to the extreme tensions of the music up until this point - with the ‘song’ of the title revealing itself as a variation’ of the Alma theme, and the melody for which the work has been searching throughout its rather brief journey. The initial setting is for string quartet, with tutti strings harmonically supporting, and horn and cor anglais providing important interweaving counterpoint. However, when the melody is repeated on flugel horn and brass choir, the surrounding bi-tonal rising scales on strings and woodwind suggest a more ominous tone. Nevertheless, the music now truly invades the late-Romantic Mahlerian world which has been implied through its earlier manifestations, both melodically and harmonically.

Alma’s comment that the Sixth Symphony was Mahler’s most ‘personal’ work is probably true, and she undoubtedly lies at the heart of it. The ending of Dream Song is bitter-sweet, with an underlying E major harmony ‘distorted’ by the final utterances of the four-note ‘Alma’ motive on muted violins, rising to a high B flat (a tritone from E) with which the work ends ambiguously, but not I hope pessimistically.

In terms of orchestration, I have broadly adopted Mahler’s huge orchestra of the Sixth Symphony, but with slightly smaller wind and brass sections. However, the percussion section is equally large, with the use of some instruments that Mahler could not have known (but if he had he probably would have used them!). There are important solo roles for many instruments, particularly the violin, and in writing it I was mindful of the wonderful playing my friend Yuri Torchinsky, the leader of the BBC Philharmonic.

The work is dedicated to Susie (meine Almschi), thus mirroring Mahler’s affectionate portrayals of his own wife, Alma, in both this symphony and its forerunner, the Fifth.

The version for flute and piano was premiered by Wissam Boustany (flute) and Aleksander Szram (piano) at St James's Church, Piccadilly, on Thursday 19 May 2011

The idea for the genesis of this work, and indeed its title and individual movements, came after visiting an exhibition at the British Museum entitled Moctezuma - Aztec Ruler. The exhibition traced the events following the election in 1502 of Moctezuma as Supreme Ruler of the Aztecs, and the subsequent invasion of 1519 by a Spanish expedition led by Hermán Cortés - an event that was to eventually lead to the demise of the Aztec civilisation.

Part of the exhibition explored the role that music and dance played in Aztec life. The primitive recorder together with trumpets and drums, were used as an important part of the formal ritual ceremonies (including, rather gruesomely, human sacrifice) that took place to appease the many Gods which the Aztecs worshipped, as well as for other, more informal, occasions in their social and cultural life.

I have tried to reflect some of these highly contrasting and dramatic ideas in this four movement work, where many colours and textures are exploited, as are lyrical and highly charged rhythmic ideas. The titles of the movements are:

1. Ritual/Pastorale
2. Fertility Dance
3. Ghost Song
4. Sacrificial Dance

1. to Francis Poulenc (for Emma Johnson)
2. to Gerald Finzi (for John Bradbury)
3. to Igor Stravinsky (for Linda Merrick)
4. to Olivier Messiaen (for Nicholas Cox)
5. to Bla Bartk (for Michael Collins)

The first performance was given by Michael Collins (clarinet) and Michael McHale (piano) in October 2010 at a BBC Radio 3 Lunchtime Recital in City Halls, Glasgow.

Ideally, the pieces should be performed as a complete set, but it is also acceptable for individual pieces to be performed separately (eg as an encore piece, or as part of a themed recital).

For the centenary of that event in 2013, I decided to write a work that pays tribute to some of those early test-pieces. The list of the composers is a distinguished one of course, including well-known names such as Holst, Ireland, Elgar, and Howells, alongside other less familiar ones. The brass band tradition owes much to them, for through their music they established a truly homogenous 'British' brass band sound that has spread throughout many parts of the world. That tradition flourishes today and remains important for today's composers, even if their musical language is far removed from that of their predecessors.

Of Distant Memories pays homage to these composers and their music, and in the process summons up a kind of subconscious memory bank of the musical languages, styles and forms used by them. Although conceived in the form of a 'traditional' tone poem, reflecting the form used in those early test pieces, other aspects (e.g. instrumentation, texture and colouration) are more contemporary, as befits a composer writing in the 21st century. However, the percussion requirements are fairly modest by today's standards, and are similar to those used in the works of that period.

Of Distant Memories is one continuous movement and opens with a rather slow, broodingly 'Romantic' melody, which becomes the main reference point of the entire work. The mood then changes and the music bursts into life, firstly with a fast and virtuosic scherzo, then with an heroic march. The mood changes yet again, and we are now transported into the world of English modal folk song, with thinly veiled scoring supporting lyrical solos for all the main soloists in the band. Linking all these sections together are references to the opening tune, transformed and varied each time. The fast music returns, eventually leading to a majestic recapitulation of the opening melody. A triumphant coda brings the work to a fitting climax.

The work was jointly commissioned by the Black Dyke Band and the Worshipful Company of Musicians (with funding generously provided by John Iles, grandson of the great John Henry Iles, the impresario without whom there would be no such repertoire or tradition). It was premiered at the RNCM Festival of Brass in January 2013, and then used as the test piece for the National Brass Band Championship of Great Britain, held at the Royal Albert Hall, London, in October 2013, The winning band on that occasion was the Cory Band from South Wales.

Finally, the version being performed this evening and subtitled ‘concerto for flute and ensemble’ was commissioned by Adam Johnson and the Orchestra of the Northern Lights, with funding from the John S Cohen Foundation, and was premiered in May 2013 at St Martins-in-the Field, London, with Dan Watts (flute).

The idea for the genesis of this work, and indeed its title and individual movements, came after visiting an exhibition at the British Museum entitled Moctezuma -Aztec Ruler. The exhibition traced the events following the election in 1502 of Moctezuma as Supreme Ruler of the Aztecs, and the subsequent invasion in 1519 by a Spanish expedition led by Hermn Corts - an event that was to eventually lead to the demise of the Aztec civilisation.

Part of the exhibition explored the role that music and dance played in Aztec life. The primitive recorder together with trumpets and drums were used as an important part of the formal ritual ceremonies (including, rather gruesomely, human sacrifice) that took place to appease the many Gods whom the Aztecs worshipped, as well as for other formal and informal occasions in their social and cultural life.

I have tried to reflect some of these highly contrasting and dramatic ideas in this four-movement work, where many colours and textures are exploited, as are lyrical and highly charged rhythmic ideas. The final movement makes reference in passing to Stravinsky’s Danse Sacrale, the final section of his
iconic work Le Sacre du Printemps.

The titles of the movements are:

From an early age I have been a great admirer of the poetry of John Donne, and so it seemed fitting, considering the nature of the commission and its dedicatee, to choose texts from Donne’s Divine Poems in order to form a contrasting set of three pieces for unaccompanied choir. The individual settings are:

1. When I have spunne my last thred
2. The Lord is good to them
3. Paradise and Calverie

The first setting, its text taken from ‘A Hymne to God the Father’, concerns the poet’s fear (which he regards as a sin) of doubting God’s promise of mercy and forgiveness, but prays that through his Son he will find redemption (note the puns of ‘son’ and ‘sun’ and ‘done’ and ‘Donne’). The music utilises a semi-chorus singing the text (quasi declamato) mainly in unison against a backdrop of the main chorus’s vocalise, which utilises the musical metaphor of the spinning wheel through its persistent lilting repetitions. The music rises to a climax of contrasting major chords on the words: ‘Thy son shall shine as he shines now’, but the setting ends quietly, as if in contemplation.

The second setting, which uses two stanzas from ‘The Lamentations of Jeremy’, is a simple statement of faith and trust in God, and takes its musical form from the ‘traditional’ motet - simple in design and language, but using extensive counterpoint as a means of heightened expression.

The final setting, taken from ‘A Hymn to God, my God, in my sickness’ (one of Donne’s final poems, probably written on his deathbed) deals with the contradictions of spirituality and carnality, themes which run through both Donne’s poetry and indeed his own life. This is expressed through his use of the image of ‘both Adams’ (ie the Adam of original sin, and Christ himself), with the hope that he will find redemption and enter into heaven, wrapped in Christ’s purple robe. The music is fast but faltering, with percussion (wood block and tambourine) adding dramatic colour, as the music heads towards its ultimately triumphant goal in a blaze of affirmation and glory.

The concerto takes as its starting point the Mozartian model, namely a sonata form opening movement, a song-like slow movement, and a jaunty rondo finale. The opening movement opens with a strident motif built on rising fourths, announced by the soloist and answered by the orchestra. This pattern of 'question/answer' continues until a climactic moment breaks the tension, and is followed by a lyrical second subject announced by the soloist over undulating rhythmic patterns on strings. The music is developed and recapitulated from these ideas, with the lyrical idea returning via solo clarinet, with horn answering in canon. The movement ends with the strident fourths, this time in inversion.

The slow movement is in tertiary form and opens with an expansive melody from the soloist over a repetitive harmonic and melodic pattern. This is expanded and developed, building all the while in intensity until it is interrupted by cadenza-like passages on the horn and muted brass. After a brief climax the music subsides into a moment of emotional serenity before the opening melody returns, this time on solo oboe with the horn interweaving its own answering melodic lines.

The rondo finale is more light-hearted in mood with a catchy 6/8 tune at its heart. It is twice interrupted, first by an idea built on long held chromatic notes from the soloist against a highly rhythmic backdrop (wind, brass, and snare drum), then by a slower, more thoughtful melodic idea. However, the rondo tune eventually returns and the work ends in a mood of joyous celebration.

Remember sets stanzas from the Laurence Binyon poem, For the Fallen, which was written in 1914, just after the outbreak of the First World War. The poet said that the fourth stanza ("They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old') came to him first, and it is of course these words that have become so familiar through their use at annual Remembrance services. However, the poem has seven stanzas in all, and I have used three of these.

For the setting of this memorable text, I decided to use a baritone solo voice, both for its lyrical and 'darker' qualities. I have tried to utilize the full range of the voice (over two octaves), sometimes dramatically, at other times reflectively. The orchestra alone is heard at the beginning, announcing the main ideas, with percussion providing a powerful backdrop; there are several other intervening orchestral interludes during the course of the work, which act as a dramatic counterpoint to the text. The work has an arch-like structure, with a violent orchestral scherzo providing the peak of the arch after the baritone cries of 'They fell with their faces to the foe'.

Towards the close of the work, after the enduring words 'We will remember them', children's voices enter with a setting of the Benedictus from the Latin Mass, thus counteracting the horror and suffering of war with a message of peace and reassurance. This could also be seen as a musical metaphor for the souls of the dead being carried to Heaven by the angels of God (through the 'innocence' of children). The work ends with the pealing of bells, another eternal symbol of both remembrance and rejoicing.

I have dedicated the work 'to all the victims of war', thus embracing a more universal message about the inherent tragedy of all wars, where so many innocent lives are lost.

Text used from three stanzas of the poem For the Fallen by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal

Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.

There is music in the midst of desolation

And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,

Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

It seems a little strange that I waited so long to write my first string quartet, the ultimate challenge for any composer; but the right opportunity never seemed to have presented itself until, that is, the right occasion and musicians came together. In thinking about how to embark upon the compositional process, I decided to return to classical principles: the late quartets of Beethoven and the quartets of Bartok (which I have always thought to be a natural progression from those of Beethoven). Thus, the use of extended sonata, variation and rondo forms (including cyclic form) became the backbone of the architecture of the work, together with a closely argued contrapuntal approach to the instrumental writing.

The first movement opens with a dramatic gesture, a series of terse chords, defined by rhythmic punctuations, an idea which returns at pivotal moments in the movement, as well as the end of the quartet. This is quickly followed by the main allegro of the movement, which develops the previous opening chords contrapuntally, before a more lyrical second subject is announced - here the Schubertian model of dramatic contrast in the musical material seemed to be apposite. The music proceeds in a clearly defined route via a development section that reaches its climax with a return of the opening chordal gestures, but instead of the usual ensuing recapitulation the process of continuous development (in the manner of Bartok) results in presenting earlier material via a rather manic fugue (including a reference to the BACH musical cypher). Eventually, a contracted reference to the lyrical second subject leads to a final gesture of the opening chords, which close the movement, albeit in an unresolved manner.

The second movement is sub-titled 'Fantasia on a Chorale' (after the English 16th and 17th century models) and adopts a rather loose variation form, where fragments of a chorale (never heard in its complete form), gradually unfold with textural embellishment throughout the movement. There are cadenza-like passages for cello and viola, and a menacing march, where violins are prominent, but the movement ends serenely in modal E minor with violins 'sighing' a repeated pattern from the chorale, and gradually fading into the distance.

The final movement is a boisterously energetic rondo, with syncopated rhythms and accents prominent. There are two contrasting episodes: the first a broad, sweeping melody announced initially on viola, the second a helter-skelter fugue, the subject of which is derived from the rising four-note cell heard at the opening of the movement. The music heads towards its peroration with a return to the very opening gesture of the quartet, this time 'resolved' through the sunlight of G major tonality. Thus the journey from darkness to light (a major preoccupation in my recent music) is complete.

In this play, about a down-at-heels brass band in the North of England brought to a new level of self-confidence and achievement by an incoming conductor, the whole cast performed a test piece on stage every night (i.e. Music for Greenwich), in readiness for a competition which they have entered and, of course, win. Although the play is as much a social commentary as anything to do with music-making, every member of the cast had to be able to play a brass instrument to a greater or lesser extent (a difficult challenge for the casting Director!).

For obvious reasons, the music is not technically difficult, although I have tried to make it interesting. The work is structured as follows: a brief fanfare-like opening is followed by an allegro section, rhythmic and playful; a slow lyrical section is then introduced (a suitably nostalgic melody featuring solos for cornet and trombone), before a return to the fast music, a hint of the fanfare, and finally a climactic flourish to round things off. This is music to be enjoyed, as hopefully it was every night by the audience and actors alike.