Program Notes

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Intrepid Brass Band members

Spring 2026 (in alphabetical order by section)

Music Director

Lucas Hulett

Trumpet

Levi Graves, Dana Hamant, Parker Holuska, Todd Shultz, Jordan Tyree, Dalton Williams, Dick Wilson

Horn

Harrison Goertz, Meri Hulett, Grace Schulze, Wyatt Smith

Trombone

Christian Chase, Randy Crow, Josh Hermes, Dominic Grizzle, Aidan Stubby, Rob Tierney, Josephine Trout

Euphonium

Joshua Carter, Cooper Matthews

Tuba

Ben Anderson, Phil Black

Percussion

Micah Bolton, Akhila Jayasinghe, Taryn Quattlebaum

 

Program Notes:

Aaron Copland, b. 1900 d. 1990 ; Fanfare For The Common Man, c. 1942 ; Hoe-Down from Rodeo, c. 1942

 

Aaron Copland could easily be referred to as a stereotype of an American success story. He was a native of Brooklyn, although his Lithuanian parents immigrated from Russia by way of Scotland, and established themselves as store owners to sustain themselves. Music was always present in the Copland household, as a consequence of his mother’s inherent interest, his brother’s evident talent on the violin, and his sister’s study of opera and libretti at the local Metropolitan Opera School. Young Aaron’s first compositional efforts came at age 8, and his first formalized lessons came at age 12. By 15 he had decided on pursuing a career in composition. The remainder of his adolescence was spent attending performances at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, the New York Symphony, and the Metropolitan Opera. At this time he would also spend three years under the tutelage of the first of many incredible teachers, Rubin Goldmark.

 

When the time for higher education came, Copland found a sponsored summer program at the Fontainebleau School of Music in Chamount, France. Upon arrival in France, he settled into the program and met the highly-esteemed Nadia Boulanger, who inspired him to absorb all aspects of classical and romantic composition, as well as impressed upon him the importance of understanding the complex relationships between all these intricate elements. His admiration for her incisive intelligence was such that an initial one year residence in France expanded into three years. This time also served to open up the wider artistic world to a budding Copland, who found fortune in the circles of writers such as Ernest Hemingway and Sinclair Lewis, painters including Amedeo Modigliani and Pablo Picasso, and intellectuals like Marcel Proust and Jean-Paul Sartre.

 

Copland was an optimistic, energized compositional artist upon his return to the US in 1925, and was able to continue cultivating extra-artistic relationships with prominent figures including conductor Serge Koussevitsky and photographer Alfred Stieglitz. These relationships helped keep Copland afloat as he adjusted his idealistic approach to composition into a more pragmatic version. While his initial performances were very much art presented to artists, the onset of the Great Depression led his direction into what some critics would refer to as pandering, but Copland saw it as a necessary exploration at the fulcrum between self-expression and financial stability. He borrowed the term ‘Gebrauchsmusik,’ or ‘music for use,’ as a philosophical platform for his concertos, ballets, chamber works, operas, and radio programs: essentially he made his ideas wider and more accessible to the public, and was able to cultivate acclaim through accessibility.

 

Another school of thought Copland would ascribe to during this time was the Affirm America’ slogan imparted by Stieglitz. This idea referred to the concept that American artists and art should reflect ideals of American Democracy. This manifested both in an compositional interest in the growing genre of jazz, but also in an idealistic way. Copland sought out other American composers and developed a fraternal relationship amongst them, with himself as the spokesperson of their group advocating for presence in communities and creating concert series for presentations of their works to the American public.

 

If there is a bastion of the American compositional style, it is surely Copland, being referred to by peers as the ‘Dean of American Music.’. His desire to absorb fundamental aspects of every culture he encountered, and ability to ingratiate himself among the most prominent and movement-founding creators certainly speaks to the dream of a nation acting as a melting pot of peoples and ideas. Copland was a great admirer of all the classical forms of composition and orchestration as imparted to him by Boulanger, but was also heavily influenced in his later years by the twelve-tone systems pioneered by Schoenberg. He regarded Stravinsky as his favorite modern composer, but placed huge value on his relationship with Carlos Chávez and the time they spent in Mexico. Tracing the compositional career of Copland is to follow a river mixing sediment collected from the shores of innumerable landscapes. All the acquired elements serve to build into a magnificent structure elevating Copland to the legendary status he inhabits among both musical connoisseurs and lay-listeners. 

 

Tonight’s concert opens with the wideness of the Fanfare For The Common Man. A Copland classic, this piece is a distillation of the harmonic writing that made his compositional style so uniquely American. The trumpet, trombone, and French horn sections move around each other in expansive consonance, bookended by declaratory percussion. As the piece develops, individual lines within the brass sections splinter into powerful harmonic rhythm. This Fanfare is all the more impactful for eschewing traditional punchy figures, instead relying on compelling motion across the tessitura of the band to uplift the listener.

 

We peak the program with a selection from the Rodeo ballet, the instantly recognizable Hoe-Down. A complete turn away from the open resonance of the Fanfare, this selection is a shining example of controlled chaos. Arpeggios and syncopations spiral around each other in a raucous dance. It is easy to imagine a celebratory scene, set in an old west ballroom, coordinated choreography stomping the dirty floor. You will hear athletic lines typically performed on woodwinds or strings illustrated in full by the brass tonite, accentuated by cheeky woodblock interjections that can only build the mood of a joyous countryside jamboree.

 

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James Riley, b. 1938 d. 1987 ; Suite for Brass Choir, c. 1971

 

James Rex Riley was born in Shreveport, Louisiana in 1938. He graduated from Centenary College, then studied composition with Samuel Adler and Hunter Johnson at North Texas State University and the University of Texas at Austin, where he earned his doctorate. He taught at the University of Texas, Mississippi State University and Wichita State University, and came to James Madison University in September 1981. He won a number of prizes, including three ASCAP awards, and received commissions from such organizations as the San Antonio Chamber Music Society as well as James Madison University. He died March 29, 1987, after several years of struggling against a brain tumor.

 

The Suite for Brass Choir is divided into three rather symphonic movements. Movement One, titled Dance Americana, takes the listener on a journey through several scenes. What begins as a rather straight forward syncopated hop-skip morphs unexpectedly into a lilting 5/8 meter, with an elongated beat inviting the dancer to drift just slightly longer on the preferred foot. This gives way next. To a slightly melancholy series of cascading ballet melodies, passed back and forth both between and within various brass sections. We finally return to a jaunty syncopation recognizable from the start of the movement.

 

Movement Two, Interlude, is a unique element of our program tonite, in which the majority of the ensemble sits quietly. The movement is a duet, with the Euphonium being the featured point of conversation, with occasional interjections from the first trumpet. The time is free-flowing, and this movement is much more suited to be a cadenza than anything is strict, rigid time.

 

The title of Movement Three gives away the format. Called Fanfare/Chorale, this movement is a sort of pendulum, swinging rapidly between forceful fanfare figures and gentle but insistent chorale ideas. However there is a surprise: once these two idiomatic concepts of brass composition have run their course, a Fugue is introduced that leads the listener to a crashing conclusion. 

 

*program notes sourced from the online archives of James Madison University Special Collections

 

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Antonín Dvořák, b. 1841 d. 1904 ; Largo From Symphony From The New World, c. 1893

 

Antonìn Dvořák was born just outside of Prague in Austria, to a devoutly Christian and bohemian family. He expressed talent on the violin from an early age, and eventually took up the organ as a practical matter. At age thirteen he traveled to Germany to live with an uncle, and ended up under the musical and cultural guidance of Antonìn Leihmann and Franz Hanke. These two teachers were primarily responsible for the young Dvořák’s development in violin, organ, piano, and music theory, as well as providing an environment for him to associate with modern composers. At 16 he would return home and enroll in the Prague Organ School, graduating second in his class.

 

Dvořák’s graduation left him a stereotypical gently struggling musician, making ends meet by giving private piano lessons and playing the viola in local opera orchestras. This setting introduced him to the compositions of Richard Wagner and eventually Wagner himself, whom he held in high esteem throughout his entire life and significantly influenced his compositional style. It was around this time, 1861, that Dvořák began composing more seriously, beginning with string quartets and the early glimmering of symphonic works. However most of these compositions went unrecognized, for better or worse, for at least a decade, and a few of which were only published or performed posthumously. The first publicly reported performance of a Dvořak work was not until 1871, and his music was being met with mixed and occasionally harsh criticism. After adjusting his compositional style to be more personal and less imitative of Wagner, he began to gain traction in musical society.

 

The compositional trajectory of Dvořák imitates a rocket in flight. Beginning with a long slow burn, it sparked approximately halfway through his life and carried him steadily upwards until his passing. Dvořák had been steadily composing from an early age, with the support of an approving father, and had been attempting to sustain himself through positions as a church musician and through published performances of his works. His first major break came in 1874, winning first prize in the Austrian State Competition from a panel including Johannes Brahms, who was enamored with the fundamentally unknown young composer. Dvořák’s repeat win of the same prize three years later secured a positive reputation with a large publisher, which served to accelerate his works throughout the European continent and beyond.

 

Dvořak’s third win of the Austrian State Competition sealed him into mastery status among his peers, performers, and publishers. The years surrounding the awards witnessed the creation of the third, fourth, and fifth symphonies, several string chamber works including his Sextet and the Serenade in E, the famous Slavonic Dances, and his Violin Concerto. The decades following this outpouring of compositional volume would witness success in Germany, Austria, Great Britain, Russia, and the United States, all of which Dvořak would visit to consult upon performances of his works.

 

In 1892 the President of New York’s National Conservatory of Music would offer Dvořak a handsomely paid position as Director. His tenure at the rather progressive conservatory afforded him the opportunity to study what he considered the natural music of the Americas. Dvořak’s bohemian roots had always caused him to consider folk music of utmost importance, equal in status to his classical training. His attention turned to Native American and African American roots, which deeply influenced his composition and led to what is his most globally renowned work, the 9th Symphony, or Symphony From The New World. After a three year tenure in New York Dvořak elected to return to his home in Europe, where he focused primarily on tone poems and operas. At the end of his life he enjoyed such national respect that his home country celebrated his birthday twice in one year, and made the official date a national holiday. He was appointed a member of the Austrian House of Lords, and was awarded the gold medal for Litteris et Artibus.

 

The Largo movement from the Symphony From The New World is one of stunning simplicity. The harmonies move with a gentle undulation reminiscent of a wide, unfolding landscape, and seem to settle in a place of lightness and peace that can be easily felt by the eyes, ears, and heart. The melody is contemplative, longing and hopeful, and flows over the harmony with a liquidity that can only come from genuine awe experienced by a compassionate observer. The whole movement speaks to the vastness of the American wilderness, and captures the sensation of serenity that can only come from a pure lushness that has forever inspired the residents of the countryside.

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Jan Bach, b. 1937 d. 2020 ; Derivatives for Brass Octet, c. 2017

 

Jan Bach was born in Forrest, Illinois in 1937. He studied at the University of Illinois in Urbana where he received the Doctor of Musical Arts degree in composition. His primary instruments were the French horn and the piano. His composition teachers have included Roberto Gerhard, Aaron Copland, Kenneth Gaburo, Robert Kelly, and Thea Musgrave. From 1962 to 1965 he was associate first horn in the U. S. Army Band at Fort Myer in Arlington, Virginia. Upon discharge, he taught for one year at the University of Tampa in Florida, and played in the orchestras of Tampa and St. Petersburg. In 1966 he began teaching theory and composition courses at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb. In 1978 he was selected as one of three professors receiving the Excellence in Teaching award; in 1982 he was recipient of one of the first eight prestigious Presidential Research Professorship grants instituted by the university. For six years he was Northern Illinois University’s nominee for the national CASE Professor of the Year award. Although taking an early retirement in 1998, he continued to teach one course each semester at the NIU School of Music until June of 2004. Bach has written for virtually every live medium of vocal and instrumental performance. His music has been recognized with numerous composition awards and grants since 1957 when, at the age of nineteen, he won the BMI Student Composers first prize. Other awards have included the Koussevitsky competition at Tanglewood, the Harvey Gaul composition contest, the Mannes College opera competition, the Sigma Alpha Iota choral composition award, first prize at the First International Brass Congress in Montreux, Switzerland, grants from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Illinois Arts Council, the Brown University choral composition award, first prize in the Nebraska Sinfonia chamber orchestra competition, and first prize in the New York City Opera competition. Six times his works have been recommended for a Pulitzer Prize. Jan Bach’s Estate is a composer member of Broadcast Music, Inc., New York.

 

Jan Bach is one of those fortunate “university” composers whose works, through their many performances, have extended far beyond the borders of his campus to reach an international audience. He enjoyed writing music on commission, particularly if it was for a combination of performing forces for which he had not yet written. According to James P. Cassaro writing in the New Grove Dictionary of Music, “a predominant aspect of [Bach’s] work is his charming and inexhaustible sense of humour.” Cassaro goes on to remark that “in all genres, Bach’s works display both structural clarity and a subtle use of instrumental timbre.” Rick Anderson in the Quarterly Journal of the Music Library Association (June 2007), p. 925-926, calls Bach “one of America’s somewhat hidden treasures” noting the “two sides, equally important, of Bach’s musical personality…his seriousness…and his humor”. Barry Kilpatrick in the American Record Guide (January–February 2007), p. 55-56 remarks that “[Bach] writes difficult music, to be sure. I think it’s a prime motivation, judging by his own comments about how both the Horn Concerto and the French Suite might be the most difficult works ever written for horn. Perhaps this motivation comes from the fact that he is a horn player. Whatever the reason, the result is that only the highest level of player can seem in command of the pieces. Everyone else can only try hard.”

 

The Derivatives for Brass Octet are, naturally, ironically numerous in their construction. Movement One, perplexedly titled Ruffles and Fourflushers, is a kind of split movement. A burbling and dramatic introduction gives way to a round of musical motifs. More visual audience members may notice members of the ensemble altering the angle of their instruments to change the timbre and texture of the music. The sudden mood change that takes place approximately three-quarters of the way into the movement is prophetic of the attitude of Movement Two, simply called Interlude. This movement is done in the style of an easy swing, and is decorated with a fringe of interspersed countermelodies traded between trumpets, flugelhorns, and French horns. Movement Three is done as a Fugue, with a brief introduction to reset the groove into a sassy music theatre overture before settling into the main subject, initially presented by the euphonium. The contrapunctal interplay of the main motif and the supporting melodic fragments serve as a rousing finale to this curious 20’s nouveau.

 

*Program notes sourced from janbach.com, Cimarron Music Press and The New Grove Dictionary of Music by way of Wikipedia

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Erik Satie, b. 1866 d. 1925 ; La Diva de l’Empire – Intermezzo Américain, c. 1904

 

The story of Erik Satie is certainly a more relatably human tale than that of many well-known composers. He was a native of Normandy, and spent his childhood being shuffled between his closest family members in his hometown of Honfleur and the more reputable Paris. His interest in music was primarily circumstantial, given his father was a music publisher, though the young Satie was interested in history, religion, and old languages, which attracted him to the organ and the genre of Gregorian Chant. His stepmother, a salon composer and pianist, determined this was sufficient excuse to enroll him in the Paris Conservatoire in 1879, which Satie was not enthused by, given his less than enthusiastic attitude about her addition to the family in general.

 

Satie’s initial studies found him a mix of uninspired and disinterested, and his teachers had nothing complimentary to say of his enrollment. Indeed by 1882 he ended up expelled for his overall unsatisfactory performance. It was after this point he began to tinker with composition, and a half-hearted attempt was made to re-enroll in the Conservatoire under fresh tutelage. Once again, however, his teachers were unimpressed and even contemptuous of his lack of ability, and disdainful of his tendency to daydream about religious architecture and medieval manuscripts. By 1886 Satie again departed the school, this time for military service, but found the job so abhorrent that he intentionally contracted bronchitis to earn a discharge.

 

After settling in Paris in 1887, Satie began to develop into the bohemian, esoteric figure he would be known as for the remainder of his life, marked most notably by his propensity for developing costumed personas for himself. He became a resident pianist at a local entertainment venue, and began composing again. This period would see the development of his most well known works, the Gymnopédies. He would also meet Claude Debussy during this time, with whom he would form a close friendship on the basis of bohemian identity, compositional originality, and financial struggle. Leading up to the turn of the century, Satie’s behavior became almost comically self-indulgent. He would have dramatic upsets with his employers, harbor a short-lived romance with a neighboring painter before her move out of the city left him despondent, launch harsh criticisms at his critics from behind pseudonyms, and publish a non-existent opera.

 

Satie would make a majority of his living as a cabaret pianist and arranger of popular songs, as well as a composer of politically satirical material. However, finding himself inspired by the developing works of Debussy, he was inspired to once again pursue enrollment, this time at the Scola Cantorum in 1905, where his fresh motivation pushed him to take his studies much more seriously. In addition to Debussy, Satie would receive valuable instruction from Vincent D’Indy, Albert Roussel, and Maurice Ravel. It was Ravel who would present Satie’s works at the Independent Musical Society in 1911, which immediately propelled Satie to the front of the public’s consciousness. This allowed him to leave the life of a cabaret pianist and focus solely on composition.

 

The later years of Satie were as tumultuous as the prior. He spent his time growing close to, and falling out with, many musical contemporaries, including Georges Auric and Frances Poulenc, as well as Ravel and Debussy. He continued to invent personas and fashion elaborate costumes to present to the public eye. He drank to excess, which would eventually lead to his death. However, his esoteric nature endeared him to the modern theatre scene, and he would eventually become a commissioned theatre composer, where his desire to mix unusual, open-ended harmonies with humorous musical quips and his growing fascination with American jazz was thoroughly welcomed. Satie would also find favor as a journalist and critic, which manifested in only a single libel lawsuit. 

 

La Diva de l’Empire was the first attempt by the ineffable Satie to capture the spirit of the budding genre of American jazz. A tour by John Philip Sousa to the 1900 Paris Exhibition captured Satie’s attention, and being a composer for cabaret, he experimented with the cakewalk style in this coy piece, originally for chamber piano. The Empire implied in the title refers to the famous Empire Theatre in London, and the Diva refers to a star performer at said theatre. Originally there were lyrics set to this quaint parlor piece, and prominent singer Paulette Darry became the diva herself, holding sole performing rights for her entire career and life. 

Notes by Dalton Williams, April 2026

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Thank you for your attendance! Your support and energy make live music events a possibility, and we are so happy you decided to join us today!