A couple of Virtual Trombonists, though for the real thing see The Bandstand below.
My best seller! Great fun to play, this is a jolly, unwieldy trombone duet. Written for Katy and Christian Jones, the piece is based on their initials, and therefore the song about the American railroad engineer Casey Jones.
No, this isn’t a piece about rows of schoolchildren sitting listening to the headmaster. This is a Theme and Variations, the variations being versions of the lines used to assemble the theme. Makes sense. The theme itself is taken from another composition, for solo trombone, written in 2020 for a podcast. Then phrase by phrase, and in contrasting ways, it’s broken up and generally played about with, in variations called The Pedagogue, Jangles, Tightrope and Trapeze, Catnap, and The Pointy End.
House Very Mixed Ensemble. In a Caribbean nightclub.
This is the first of 2 pieces in the style of Steve Reich. SRI is Sacro Romano Impero, the Holy Roman Empire, which of course was the First Reich. Harbleedin’ har. But I liked the title enough to keep it, because 3 stark capitals are a bit mechanical, as this sort of music is, and there’s also more than a nod towards Michael Nyman’s MGV (Musique a Grande Vitesse). For full-blown orchestra, the piece almost lives up to Steve Reich’s proportions at 11 minutes long. There is also a reduced (in length, to 6 ½ minutes) version.
Here is a Hoedown, written in 2011 for the brass and percussion sections of ICO. ICO is an orchestra based in Warsaw, comprising of young musicians from seven eastern / ex-Soviet countries: Poland, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Ukraine, Belarus, Georgia and Moldova. For those eastern players, I wrote the most Western-like tune I could think of, a Hoedown.
Here’s the same piece, this time for a 39-piece Concert/Symphonic Band. This riotous combo suits this piece very well. The title, without the ICO connection now, is written normally. There’s a third version of this happy tune, an arrangement for brass band, see below.
A short piece written for a competition in Spain, hence its Spanish flavour. Each instrument has its own melody, its own dance. First they’re played on their own with interjections from the others, then after a very short burst of flamenco clapping, the dances start to come together until all are going at once, gathering momentum and becoming a whole dance itself. Boisturous stuff. (The piece didn’t win the competition, but my other entry, El Fregadero, did, and is published by Spanish Brass).
Air Moving. This is simply one of the most beautiful tunes I’ve ever heard, by Kathryn Tickell, the brilliant Northumbrian pipes player. She gave me permission to arrange it for trombone quartet so here it is. The original tune is published by Not Them Again/Purple Patch publications.
This was the second Steve Reich-inspired effort. SRI is driving, headlong music, this is more atmospheric, and tells a story. It would have been A Walk in the Woods but it’s in ¾ so the Waltz seemed appropriate. The woods were going to be tranquil English ones, but things take a decidedly spooky turn in the middle section. After a stream has appeared innocently then gathered pace and strength, we wander off into the trees, where twigs crackle, leaves rustle, owls hoot; we feel lost, it’s very Blair Witch, and the use of a haunting treble recorder doesn’t help. (Detracting from the spooky atmosphere in this audio file are a few unwanted interpretations by the Sibelius music programme. The gentle sweep of a violin bow down a cymbal comes out as a crashing gong, and it thinks a guiro is a doorbell buzzer). But we return to the path, to glorious progress – from ca. 10 minutes to 13.40ish is some of the most joyful music I’ve written – and the Walk ends dreamily.
Good title eh? Written in 1984, we played it on the NYO Summer Course that year. A better piece than the title.
A very early composition, mid 1980s. A very short suite of five movements, in 3/8, then 5/8, 7/4, 9/8 and 11/4. These movements are called Rushing Water, Gaudy Tune in A major, Tombs, On The Sea, and Ghosts and Chimes. The whole Suite is only about nine minutes long, and even that duration depends how long you take over the spooky ending of Ghosts and Chimes.
Full orchestral Woodwind section.
The same as above, but now arranged for woodwind, including four horns, and light percussion.
House School Guitar Group, after school on Wednesdays.
A happy little tune, for happy little guitarists (Grade I?), and their teacher playing the not-very-difficult chords.
A Christmas Carol. School group.
Probably written in 1983, a gentle song for children’s chorus, 2 ‘angel’ soloists, piano, solo violin and harp/celeste/glockenspiel, all three of which are interchangeable or even dispensable, though they’d all add to the festive feel. As this and Pete’s Tune (see above) were written at school that makes them two of the oldest pieces on the site. Only recently available, I’ve just listened to it and it’s lovely. So if anyone has a school choir, a violin etc and a couple of angels going spare, here’s a good use for them.
Staying in school, probably a Primary School this time.
Here’s a bright Xmas song, for a treble clef choir of Years 3-7 or thereabout. Also piano, bass guitar, 4 brass and 3 percussion. At the moment the brass are soprano cornet, 2 tenor horns and an Eb Bass, but these can all be adapted. The percs are Glock, Vibraphone and Tubular Bells, none of which most schools will have. They can be omitted, as can the bass guitar, but it’d be great if some of these could be there. They’re all on this audio file anyway.
The fading light at the end of a school day in December is a magic moment.
Heloisa Pinto is the real Girl from Ipanema. The writers were sitting at a cafe when she walked past, and inspired one of the most famous tunes ever written.
Sticking with String Quartet, and yes, this is America from West Side Story, which means that I can’t charge anything for this arrangement (not till 2032 anyway) or the Bernstein estate will swallow me like a Shark. Nor, if anyone wishes to take ‘buy’ this arrangement should they use it for financial gain. Having got that out of the way, this is actually the 3rd movement of a short Suite of three from that amazing show. I Feel Pretty and Maria are the other two. Great tunes.
Written in a Munich circus tent in 1988.
For ten-piece brass, here’s a suite of three short pieces: Opposing Cannon, The Dove, and Crossfire. The first movement is a blown-up version of the first movement of Little Suite for Trumpet and Trombone, see above. Grade VIII-college standard, though a lot of it is easier than that. Written late 80s, I accuse myself of blatant pastiche in the 2nd movement, imitating both Black Sam, from the brilliant Brass Cats set by Chris Hazell, and the theme from Cinema Paradiso, some of the most beautiful music Morricone ever wrote.The result is a nice flugel solo movement.
A nice little number for piano and string orchestra that I started before leaving school, finished sometime at college, and added the strings about 20 years after that. The version for solo piano is followed by the same, but with the added strings, and there’s a bit of a blip in the solo page because of a Coda marking which Sibelius doesn’t like. So to hear the full, uninterrupted and orchestrated version, start at 2.30. On the recording, not in the morning. Though it is music written for the night.
I’ve added a second audio file which is just the main section, the piano with strings, and tweaked the dynamics so the balance is better.
Most of this Virtual Venue programme is a complete hash of ensembles, styles and instruments, so here at least is one specific section. I started writing for band in 2018, but when I did so I realised that it’s been in my head all my life. Here are nineteen new pieces for brass band, in the order in which they were written; eighteen compositions and one arrangement. They’re in many styles, from mellow moments (Sea, Storm and Sunset) and minimalism (Polar Express, The Long and the Short) to blazes of glory (in Tor, Sketches and Dance Suite); from easy listening and traditional band music (British Summer, Fanfare) to savage contemporary (6845815), with bursts of beauty (Sarabande, Hoswick Bay, Agnus Dei) and lots of pictures painted (Sketches, Navarra). All liberally laced with memorable tunes, my thing I hope. Catchy music, and getting on for 3 hours of it so far. I hope you enjoy this collection.
This is a five-movement, continuous twenty-minute piece depicting these beautiful islands. We first went there in 2008, and standing at the very top of Britain, at Hermaness, in freezing rain, watching the furious sea crashing on the rocks and the cliffs round the lighthouse, the gulls and terns whizzing around above the water, I knew this would be great for band. You could almost hear it. It took another ten years (see above) for me to get going on it, but that’s where it started. The five movements are 1. The View; 2. Boat Trip and Cave; 3. Mousa at Midnight; 4. Hoswick Bay, and 5. Hermaness. Five very different impressions of these spectacular, then adventure-filled, mystical, heroic and stormy islands. You must go.
It would help to describe this piece if I gave one (!) of its original titles, which was Fanfare, Theme, Ghosts and Hoedown. This is a melange of a piece, in those implied moods, written as a thankyou to Duncan Wilson and Kidlington Concert Brass for performing Sketches of Shetland, which they did brilliantly. When I couldn’t settle on a title for the melange, I wondered if, when KCB played it, we should have a sort of raffle, where members of the audience could suggest a title, based on what they’d just heard. It was quite an up-and-down summer that year. See The Bandstand for their live performance of this.
House brass band, in sombreros. Especially the soprano player.
This was written for the Cory Composition Competition in 2019, and though it didn’t get anywhere, it didn’t fade away either, and was premiered by the Birmingham Conservatoire Brass band in November that year. Obviously a Spanish piece, there’s a section that evokes a Spanish guitar, with 6 instruments representing one open string each. It starts as a fiesta, with some flamenco clapping, then the guitar introduces the beautiful middle section, with Navarran desert heatwaves, before a flourish towards the end.
The odd section from 1.28, and the last chord, both sound like they do because Sibelius refused to get into the spirit of this piece; these are in fact clapping and stamping flamenco sounds.
There’s a glorious picture of Glastonbury Tor, and I’ve yet to find the photographer who took it. This piece is entirely based on this one incredible image, mostly bright orange, of the sunset mists across the fields, rooks rising from foreground trees, and the magnificent monument itself, just rising on its tor above the clouds.
I used to live in Walthamstow, and this is a short, light piece, the most traditionally brass band I’ve written, with a catchy theme and middle section. What makes it Walthamstow is the postcode bridge section, where during its brief four bars, 17 Es are heard on the flugel and xylophone.
A contemporary work about the Hiroshima bomb. The title is the date and time of the explosion. The first half of the piece is utterly innocent, not contemorary music at all, a busy early morning street scene that builds up three times, incorporating musical haikus and the traditional Japanese children’s song ‘Toryanse’. But the plane is heard overhead, and after that it’s pandemonium, musical Chaos. Not without form though, and I hope that the recurring sequence, on which layers of panic and destruction are mounted, serves to enable the listener to bear it. It’s devastating music, as it should be.
In this digital version there’s a short gap in the middle, as Sibelius doesn’t recognise a wind machine. Then there is real space, silence, but we know what’s coming…
There are two other versions of this work, see above. One is for orchestral brass section, plus timps and 2 percs. The other is a version friendlier to the players, an extended orchestral brass section + percs. This adds an extra trumpet, an extra horn and a euphonium to the ensemble. This helps.
A relaxing sailing trip hits a storm thrown at it by Steve Reich, before the boat sails off into the sunset with a warm flugel solo. This piece set sail after a single low flugel phrase on the telly reminded me what a gorgeous sound that is. While writing the flugel solo, I remembered that my gorgeous friend Amos Miller, force of nature at the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire and now at the Royal College of Music loves heavy jazz chords, so this piece is dedicated to him. It’s nice, this dedicating thing.
House brass band, possibly standing behind marimbas, but they never play them.
April 2020. This is what would stereotypically be called a minimalist piece. It’s entirely based on a single cell, a 5-note phrase of only two pitches. The rhythm roughly resembles the words of the title, and that’s it. I’ve borrowed some effects from Steve Reich, for me the beguiling master of this sort of music: the off-setting of the cell at the beginning and end, repeated and overlapping chords, and big, wide chords underneath the cell. What Reich also does is multiple repetition, his pieces can easily last half an hour and some players will play the same or similar music throughout. This is obviously not physically possible for brass players, so I’ve divided things up a lot, and the entire piece is under seven minutes. After a passage where the overlaid chords are punctuated by more threatening ones, there’s what I’m calling a ‘stereo section’, where, in a normal brass band set-up, the music shifts quickly across the band, so it’s a visual as well as aural experience for the audience. Finally the cell falters, breaks up, and could have ended there but for a final shout to round it off.
Another minimalist piece for band, this time more John Adams than Steve Reich. Listeners will spot that the introductory figure is almost exactly the same as ‘Sea, Storm and Sunset’, there’s only a single semitone difference. However, what comes from it is of course entirely different, isn’t music amazing? And anyone else would take the same 4 notes and produce another new and completely different piece altogether. This time, instead of a bold, nautical opening, the intro is cold, desolate, frozen with icicles, and the following fast rhythm is scrunchy. The train is off, but through uncertain, jagged territory. It builds and strengthens, then changes track from C to Ab7, and darker voices are heard underneath. Back to the wilderness. This section ranges though keys, but builds again and swings back into C major. By now the train is flying headlong through much happier scenery, and the repeated riff is firmly rooted in the 4-note beginning. Another swing lands us in the home strait of G major, and the engine is now in its triumphant final rush to the end of the line.
About the title. The piece is definitely a train journey. Initially I saw only rolling prairies and the wide-open spaces of America, and the ending definitely smacks of the Iron Horse. But it’s spooky to start, and the locomotive riff is only the second half of the piece. So then it became ‘The Transylvanian Express’ travelling initially through gnarled woods and creepy countryside. Then a friend suggested that the final riff and build-up reminded him of Sibelius, and I could see his point. Normally when people, always well-meaning, say ‘that’s great, it sounds like just like…’ that’s a bit of a body blow, as it’s so hard to create anything original, and a compliment like that can be very deflating. But in this case I didn’t mind, as I say, I agreed, and so the whole train shifted a long way north. Finland itself, for the Sibelius feel, was suggested. But by now I wanted a journey from dark to light, from cold to a triumphant blaze. Nothing to do with the wonderful Tom Hanks Xmas film of 2004, nothing to do with Santa Claus. If there is a connection, it’s in the word ‘Return’, in that my train is travelling in the opposite direction, not to the North Pole but away from it.
The jolly hoedown from earlier (see above), this time arranged for Brass Band.
The idea came from Warlock’s Capriol Suite, but I wanted to do modern Dances, not just Elizabethan. So here is a lively Gigue, a Sarabande with a joyful second section, a dark Tango, a stately Pavane and a wild party Salsa.
This is based on a series of photos I took on my phone when my wife and I visited my brother and his wife in the north of Scotland, and we went to a remote cabin in the woods. The work is in four sections, based on these pictures. ‘Blue Trees’ is the forest late at night, backlit by an amazing blue moonlight in the darkness. The branches sway gently. ‘In A Clearing’ suddenly becomes more industrial, there is choppy, workman-like music, and a wide area of just stumps and brush is left. In the woods wound a wide stream which led to a tarn near the cabin, the tarn actually being an outflow from a much bigger loch behind. Also in the woods was a wigwam made from old pine branches piled up together, and ‘River and Tarn’ certainly has a native American influence in the music, which then suddenly returns to a bleak and native Scottish feel after reaching the water behind the trees. ‘Forest’ is simply the name for the final uplifted burst of the initially-distorted opening theme, and we end peacefully, in the dark blue light.
Musically the piece is crammed full of 7ths, mostly minor ones; and a single chord, in different formations, features and links some of the sections.
In The Shop are three Books of one-minute tunes, called Tail-enders. That’s because these are tunes to end rehearsals in a cheery way! Here are three examples, one taken from each Book of five tunes. The first is called ‘Kijé Fell Off’. This is blatantly a take on the ‘Troika’ movement from Prokofiev’s ‘Lieutenant Kijé’, but the title comes from the occasional skids and bumps of my version.
The next is the openly comic ‘Cops and Robbers’ from the end of Book Two. The policeman isn’t as angry as I would have liked!
And from Book Three, here’s ‘The Gerbils’. As if on a spinning wheel, they scurry round and round frantically.
The whole series of fifteen tunes ends with a tribute to John Williams, which after an imaginative and hilarious day on Facebook, and thanks to Dave Stowe, is called ‘Jurassic Parp.’ What else?!
A mad and malevolent funfair! All the bright lights and attractions, seen through the delighted but also frightened eyes of a small child. Dodgem Cars, the Ghost Train, the Waltzer, and many, many more! Dazzling but demented.
Written in the first two months of 2023, there are lots of memorable tunes within these three marches. Playing along with them, I’d forgotten what huge fun brass band marches are, and many times had to stop myself just bursting out laughing. The three are Bravo! March, Viennese March and February March. Can be bought and laughed at in singles or doubles or all three of them.
Bravo! March. See product description in The Shop, two repeated notes are the ‘hook’ of this march, hence its title.
Viennese March. With an occasional Waltz-like rhythm in the accompaniment, this might be one to concentrate on the feet as much as the notes!
February March. Maybe more of a concert march, and slightly slower than the other two, there’s still the optional opportunity to pick up towards the end, when everything is pitched in and the bass drum and percs try, (and fail) to bring this march to its traditional end. Riotous and great fun!
This is a warm walk on a cold day. There are certainly snowy flurries at the beginning. It’s not all woolly-jumper harmony, so there are wintery edges to help depict the scene. But ultimately it’s a piece of comfort. Written for the Cambridge and Surrounding District band in March/April 2023. PS The glock and especially vibraphone touches aren’t by any means nailed on, as many bands won’t have access to both of those.
Here’s a link. https://images.nypl.org/index.php?id=497461&t=w This piece tells the story of this man, a slave who escaped from a Louisiana plantation in 1863. It’s a story that I had to tell, and I don’t think it has been musically represented before. I’ve often wondered that those who wrote music about such strong subjects were a little arrogant; why should they have earned the right to express such crucial events? But after writing about Hiroshima, a visit to a concentration camp, and the death of a young soldier in WW1, of course I realise that I’m one of those very people, and that if you feel that strongly about something, whoever you are, you have the right to show it. And hurray, at last a contest piece! 17 minutes long, and probably top two sections only. This is powerful stuff, but how could it possibly not be?