Honoring the Spanish origin of the original commission of this work, Concierto Ibérico features a programmatic framework in which each of the concerto’s three movements is loosely modeled after a major festival of Spain: the Running of the Bulls during the annual nine-day festival of San Fermín in Pamplona; the Semana Santa (Holy Week) as it is celebrated in many Spanish cities such as Sevilla and Málaga; and the Fallas of Valencia. As the composer could not draw on personal experience and would otherwise be missing crucial aspects of these celebrations, he decided to forgo mere musical description of these festivals: instead, the underlying ideas–the philosophy, human ideals, and cultural concepts, all of which have shaped Iberian culture to this very day–were something to which the composer could relate deeply, and would also be compelling to an international audience.

Therefore, while festival scenes and elements are ubiquitous throughout the concerto, the three main aspects around which the movements are forged–and which permeate Iberian history and culture to this very day–are: Courage, Faith and Fire.

Concurrently, the musical language and thematic idioms used throughout this work are deliberately not stereotypically “Spanish”: rather, the music attempts to take a middle ground and transcend any unique Iberian cultural aspects; not until the very end of the concerto does it become recognizably that of Spain while drawing on the musical tradition established by composers like Manuel de Falla, Isaac Albéniz, Joaquín Rodrigo, and Enrique Granados.

1st Movement: Courage (Valor)
Loosely based on the Pamplona encierro during the festival of San Fermín, the movement opens with a fanfare-like motif reminding all those who are about to face an insurmountable challenge – in this case the bulls – to gather their strength and courage for what is to come. During the introduction sequence, the mood alters between confidence, nervousness, fear, and peaceful resignation to one’s fate. When the running begins (represented by a driving rhythmic accompaniment in the orchestra), nerves flare and fear returns, only to be interrupted occasionally by brief episodes of rest and reflection; but ultimately any doubt vanishes, courage returns and confidence prevails. Finally, this very tightly constructed movement which presents a true tour-de-force for both the soloist and the orchestra, draws to an exhausted, yet, glorious close.

Tim Jansa - Concierto Iberico (Euphonium Concerto) - I. Courage (Band)

Honoring the Spanish origin of the original commission of this work, Concierto Ibérico features a programmatic framework in which each of the concerto’s three movements is loosely modeled after a major festival of Spain: the Running of the Bulls during the annual nine-day festival of San Fermín in Pamplona; the Semana Santa (Holy Week) as it is celebrated in many Spanish cities such as Sevilla and Málaga; and the Fallas of Valencia. As the composer could not draw on personal experience and would otherwise be missing crucial aspects of these celebrations, he decided to forgo mere musical description of these festivals: instead, the underlying ideas–the philosophy, human ideals, and cultural concepts, all of which have shaped Iberian culture to this very day–were something to which the composer could relate deeply, and would also be compelling to an international audience.

Therefore, while festival scenes and elements are ubiquitous throughout the concerto, the three main aspects around which the movements are forged–and which permeate Iberian history and culture to this very day–are: Courage, Faith and Fire.

Concurrently, the musical language and thematic idioms used throughout this work are deliberately not stereotypically “Spanish”: rather, the music attempts to take a middle ground and transcend any unique Iberian cultural aspects; not until the very end of the concerto does it become recognizably that of Spain while drawing on the musical tradition established by composers like Manuel de Falla, Isaac Albéniz, Joaquín Rodrigo, and Enrique Granados.

2nd Movement: Faith (Fe)
Religious and spiritual faith is the common bond holds many cultures together, and the people of Spain are no exception: throughout its history, faith presents the one driving force that permeates every aspect of society and cultural endeavor. But unlike other societies, the people of the Iberian Peninsula not only practice faith in reverent and quiet devotion: they also cheerfully celebrate their beliefs in joyous festivals – something that becomes easily apparent in this piece.
The movement opens with a slow and introspective theme in the English horn that leads into a prayer-like section in which the solo euphonium appears to freely and meditatively improvise over a sparse orchestral accompaniment, while distant church bells call the faithful to worship. But soon, trumpets herald the near arrival of a celebratory crowd, preceded by a beautiful chorale in the brass choir. When the festivities begin, the audience will hear various motifs from this and the previous movement blend into a glorious climactic sequence. The return to the earlier prayer motif brings this movement to a peaceful and meditative conclusion.


Tim Jansa - Concierto Iberico (Euphonium Concerto) - II. Faith (Band)

This short piece, originally scored for 3 euphoniums and tuba, was commissioned by Adam Frey for the International Euphonium Institute in June of 2007. The piece was re-arranged for extended brass ensemble in the spring of 2010.

It consists of 2 major parts of about equal duration:
The first movement (“Meditation”) is set to explore the lyrical and melodic qualities of the euphonium and features a chorale-like arrangement with all four voices moving in counterpoint, alternating in their individual rendering of the main motif and ending in a suspended chord that leads, attacca, into the second movement.
“Madness” is a fast and march-like movement with strong, often syncopated, rhythmic elements that incessantly drive the movement to its grand finale, which includes a brief restatement of the original lyrical theme from the first movement. – A truly fun and challenging piece.

Tim Jansa - Meditation & Madness (tuba/euphonium quartet)

“In the spring of 2005, Bryan Black, Music Director of the DeKalb Choral Guild and a long-time friend and collaborator, approached me with the suggestion that I compose a piece for the Guild’s upcoming European concert tour that summer. Since Bryan had just recently spent a couple of weeks in the German city of Weimar – home to J.W. von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, the 200th anniversary of the latter was being celebrated that year – Bryan suggested that I use one of Schiller’s poems for this endeavor.
After briefly consulting with Dr. Lowell Bangerter at the University of Wyoming, Schiller scholar and former professor of mine, I eventually decided to use Schiller’s 1801 poem “Sehnsucht”. Something in this text struck a “chord” with me, and even while reading the poem for the very first time, the main theme and overall structure of the piece quickly took shape. Considering that several performances throughout Europe were planned, I further decided against using any accompaniment and in favor of employing the full possibilities of an a cappella choral setting.
The actual composition took place over about 2 weeks in April of 2005, and on August 28 of that year – coincidentally Goethe’s 256th birthday – I had the pleasure of conducting the premiere of Sehnsucht, which was then repeatedly sung in several venues in Germany and the Czech Republic, most notably the St. Nicolas Church in Prague, the Berlin Cathedral in Berlin, St. Jacobs Church in Weimar where Schiller was first entombed in 1805 – and at the Frauenkirche in my hometown of Nurnberg with my own grandmother in attendance.”

ANALYSIS

The poem Sehnsucht (Longing), written in 1801 by the great German poet and playwright Friedrich Schiller (1759-1805), is uncharacteristically strong in its following of the Romantic literary tradition of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Schiller is probably best known for his Classicist, highly idealized style and, in his later years, close collaboration with literary behemoth Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832). In Sehnsucht, however, Schiller adheres more to the tradition established by writers like Friedrich and August Wilhelm Schlegel or Friedrich von Hardenberg (a.k.a. Novalis) with their longing prose and tendency to abandon reality in lieu of a better, natural existence in far-away lands and the realm of dreams and imagination. Schiller, however, cannot do without a certain interim return to reality even though the poem ends on an ambiguous, yet cautiously positive and transcendent note as will be shown below.

The speaker (the “ich” of the poem) begins with a sigh of despair – the ubiquitous “ach” that forms somewhat of a common thread running through the entire piece. Starting off in the gloom of C minor, the main theme alternates in the lower and middle voices (“Oh, from this deep valley’s bottom [“Tales Gründe(n)”]”) before being taken over by the sopranos after a modulation into E minor, yet maintaining the rhythmic integrity of the motif. The damp fog (“kalte[r] Nebel”) is so oppressing that, in measure 8, it leads to an outburst in the tenors and altos: a cry for guidance to find a way out of this dreadful situation. It is immediately answered (by some higher power?) in the pickup to measure 11 where the sopranos announce the sudden sight of beautiful hills (“schöne Hügel”) which loom, eternally young and green (”ewig jung/ewig grün”), far in the distance. The descending fifths symbolize their perceived power of transfiguration, and the speaker’s spirit rises, moving upward in the altos, sopranos and tenors (measures 15-18), leaving behind the gloom of reality and culminating in entering a dream-like state in measure 19: If only he had wings (“Schwingen”, “Flügel”) he would take to the skies and fly over to these hills.

After a few powerful beats of these imaginary wings (measure 19), he begins–in his mind–to soar through the skies and take in the wondrous sights and sounds of the hills: sweet harmonies promising heavenly peace (“Harmonien […]/Töne süßer Himmelsruh”), light fragrant breezes (“leichte Winde […]/der Düfte Balsam”), golden fruit beckoning from lush trees (“gold’ne Früchte […]/winkend zwischen dunklem Laub”) and flowers (“Blumen”) that even the cold of winter cannot harm (“werden keines Winters Raub”). Another “ach” (pickup to measure 29) introduces a sequence in which the narrator, obsessed with this vision of happiness and bliss in eternal sunshine (“ew’gen Sonnenschein”) winds himself through ascending chromatic modulations, rhythmically alternating between the outer and inner voices, into a trance-like state of almost fanatic frenzy (measures 34-35), conjuring up the invigorating (“labend”) powers of the hills’ lofty heights.

But earthly reality cannot be ignored. With an abrupt blow we are back in C minor where we began and the main motif engulfs us in despair once more: crashing waves (“Wellen”) of a raging river (“des Stromes Toben”) bring a sudden end to the blissful vision we had only moments before. There is no way to reach those hills without first facing the hardships and overcoming the dangers posed by the rushing waters–and, in realization of what lies ahead, the soul trembles (“die Seele ergraust”).

All hope seems lost when, seemingly out of nowhere, a small boat (“Nachen”) comes into sight, bobbing (“schwanken”) on the swift waters–portrayed by a variation of the opening theme. But its ferryman is missing (“der Fährmann fehl[t]”), so it is up the narrator alone to muster all his courage (measures 48-49) to raise the sails (“Segel”) and, propelled by a spirited (“beseelt”) breeze, begin to glide away into the distance (measures 50-51) and an unknown fate, symbolized by a suspended, almost ethereal E-flat minor chord.

Here the narrative perspective shifts from the first-person “ich” to a second-person “du” in measure 52/53: a heavenly voice from afar reminds the listener that without faith (“glauben”) and the will to take chances (“wagen”) the seemingly impossible cannot be attained. The powers-that-be will only help those who take heart (“die Götter leih’n kein Pfand”), and only through their miraculous intervention (“nur ein Wunder”) can one reach the promised land (“Wunderland”) that one has glanced from afar. The tenors echo the familiar descending fifths promising eternal youth, and the piece ends on a strangely ambiguous chord somewhere between B-flat and D major: the end of the journey that has just begun is unknown, but whatever the outcome, we are already a step away from the original C at the beginning of the piece – whether it be forward toward the hills or back into the Valley of Mist.

LYRICS

“SEHNSUCHT”
by Friedrich Schiller (1759-1805)

Ach, aus dieses Tales Gründen,
Die der kalte Nebel drückt,
Könnt’ ich doch den Ausgang finden,
Ach wie fühlt’ ich mich beglückt!
Dort erblick’ ich schöne Hügel,
Ewig jung und ewig grün!
Hätt’ ich Schwingen, hätt’ ich Flügel,
Nach den Hügeln zög ich hin.

Harmonien hör’ ich klingen,
Töne süßer Himmelsruh,
Und die leichten Winde bringen
Mir der Düfte Balsam zu.
Gold’ne Früchte seh’ ich glühen,
Winkend zwischen dunklem Laub,
Und die Blumen, die dort blühen,
Werden keines Winters Raub.

Ach, wie schön muß sich’s ergehen
Dort im ew’gen Sonnenschein,
Und die Luft auf jenen Höhen,
O wie labend muß sie sein!
Doch mir wehrt des Stromes Toben,
Der ergrimmt dazwischen braust,
Seine Wellen sind gehoben,
Daß die Seele mir ergraust.

Einen Nachen seh’ ich wanken,
Aber ach! Der Fährmann felt.
Frisch hinein und ohne Wanken,
Seine Segel sind beseelt.
Du mußt glauben, du mußt wagen,
Denn die Götter leih’n kein Pfand,
Nur ein Wunder kann dich tragen
In das schöne Wunderland.
(1801)

Tim Jansa - Sehnsucht (SATB Choir)

The “Septet for Winds and Percussion” was composed in the summer of 2008 on commission from tubist Dr. Kevin Wass at Texas Tech University in Lubbock, TX. It was first premiered on February 20, 2009.

A rather stormy beginning immediately thrusts the listener into the piece and serves as a brief and subliminal introduction to the main motif of the work: a melodic sequence of 2 quarter and 3 eighth notes that permeates the entire first and third movements and is first heard in the low brass voices. After several complex rhythmic alternations and meter changes, the movement quickly settles into a slower B-part of almost hypnotic nature, written in 5/8 meter and underscored by conga drums and marimba. This section leads into a full recapitulation of the A-part, culminating in the first – yet still partial – exposition of the mentioned main motif.

The second movement showcases the lyrical and very expressive upper register of the tuba in a duet with the flute, which opens the movement. The 9/8 meter not only enables the melody to flow beautifully, but also ties together the individual sections of this work and anticipates the full revelation of the main motif in the finale.

A mysterious sequence of short musical statements that borrow from the melodic material of the previous two sections opens the third and final movement and brings back both rhythmic elements of the first and lyrical ideas of the second movement. Accompanied by the snare drum, the complete main motif finally surfaces first in the tuba and, slowly building momentum, drives the piece to its ultimate rousing conclusion.

The primary challenge in composing this piece was to reconcile the somewhat motley combination of instruments (flute, clarinet, saxophone, trombone, tuba, and percussion) all while creating and maintaining a balanced and harmonious ensemble. The score called for a varied, yet idiomatic approach toward overall instrumentation both for the winds but also, and especially, for percussion which was to function in a rather exposed role similar to that of the other soloists. The final selection of the percussion instruments progressed through several initial trials and sketches, some of which turned out to be quite comical and were reminiscent a poorly written soundtrack to a 1960s British television series. This ultimately prompted the elimination of several of the original percussion instruments from the score. However, it soon became obvious that the score would call for an additional percussionist to produce the desired results. The initial “Sextet for Winds and Percussion” quickly became a septet.

The “Septet” is by far the ‘jazziest’ but also one of the most fun musical works by composer Tim Jansa, and, even though designed as a work for chamber ensemble, a conductor is frequently used for performances to assure the accurate interpretation of the many transitions and tempo changes.

Tim Jansa - Septet For Winds And Percussion - II. Slowly, With Melancholy

Tim Jansa - Septet For Winds And Percussion - III. Allegro Misterioso

This short piece was originally written on commission from the Atlanta-Nürnberg Sister Cities Committee for the Nürnberg (Germany)-based Trio37  in celebration of the ensemble’s autumn 2009 visit to Atlanta. Originally entitled “Three Nocturnes”, the work’s three compact movements attempt to capture night’s calm serenity and mysterious atmosphere: from a somber “Song” to an evocative “Dialogue in the Dark” (in which the flute and bassoon answer each other’s calls, like nocturnal birds, above a trance-like piano accompaniment), culminating–attacca–in a lively night-time “Journey” and ending in calm repose.

Tim Jansa - Three Miniatures for Flute, Bassoon and Piano

In August of 2010, conductor Robert J. Ambrose and his wife, flutist Sarah Kruser Ambrose, lost their son Zachary after twenty-one weeks of pregnancy. In memory of their child, Robert and Sarah asked composer Tim Jansa to write a piece for flute and accompaniment – originally for piano – which Sarah herself would be able to perform in memory of her son.

Finding an appropriate musical language for this work presented a true challenge: Sadness over the loss of a child, while crucial, should not alone dominate; instead, giving voice to the hope for a better hereafter, the promise of new life in general, and the miracle of creation was something the composer, in consultation with both parents, wanted to make an indelible part of the piece. The mood therefore  shifts frequently between sweet sadness, glimpses of hope, visions of young children at play, and introspective remembrance.

“Twenty-One”  is a tightly constructed work structured into three distinct parts, each of them comprised of exactly 21 measures: the introduction sequence depicts hope and promise of a new life, with the flute freely associating above a sparse accompaniment. The middle section is a meditation on the process of growth during pregnancy, beginning with a simple, quiet, introspective melody and  ‘fluttering’ of newly-beginning life, which grows increasingly more lively and complex – until it suddenly terminates in a suspended F-minor chord…  The third and last section of the work is made up of a reprise of previous material, but ends in a quotation of the ‘transfiguration theme’ from Richard Strauss’s tone poem Death and Transfiguration (1889), which Strauss himself quoted at the end of the fourth of his Four Last Songs from 1949, following the words, “Is this, perhaps, death?” – leaving the question unanswered and hinting at an ongoing existence in the hereafter.

Tim Jansa - Twenty-One

“Wings: A Contemplative Fanfare” was written as a gift in honor of the senior recital of a trumpet performance major and former student of the composer’s at Georgia State University.
The piece follows no particular programmatic structure and is rather a solemn reminder of the challenges faced by anyone who is about to graduate and enter the ‘real’ world with all its trials, tribulations – but also tremendous opportunities and, hopefully, victories.

In an e-mail to his student in August 2010, the composer summarized his thoughts the following way:

“When I started writing I wanted [the piece] to be something that lives up to the occasion; and while your moving on to the next stage in your life is a wonderful step and ought to be celebrated, after graduation, you will also be facing reality and fighting your own battles before you know it. This piece is therefore not all happy and care-free by any means, as I cannot promise that things will be easy and always sunny. All you can hope and strive for is to leave a lasting legacy and indelible positive contribution on all those people whose lives you will touch in years to come.“

Tim Jansa - Wings: A Contemplative Fanfare

Tim Jansa - Morning Sides - III. The Gardens

Tim Jansa - Morning Sides - II. The Arts

Tim Jansa - Morning Sides - I. The City

Honoring the Spanish origin of the original commission of this work, Concierto Ibérico features a programmatic framework in which each of the concerto’s three movements is loosely modeled after a major festival of Spain: the Running of the Bulls during the annual nine-day festival of San Fermín in Pamplona; the Semana Santa (Holy Week) as it is celebrated in many Spanish cities such as Sevilla and Málaga; and the Fallas of Valencia. As the composer could not draw on personal experience and would otherwise be missing crucial aspects of these celebrations, he decided to forgo mere musical description of these festivals: instead, the underlying ideas–the philosophy, human ideals, and cultural concepts, all of which have shaped Iberian culture to this very day–were something to which the composer could relate deeply, and would also be compelling to an international audience.

Therefore, while festival scenes and elements are ubiquitous throughout the concerto, the three main aspects around which the movements are forged–and which permeate Iberian history and culture to this very day–are: Courage, Faith and Fire.

Concurrently, the musical language and thematic idioms used throughout this work are deliberately not stereotypically “Spanish”: rather, the music attempts to take a middle ground and transcend any unique Iberian cultural aspects; not until the very end of the concerto does it become recognizably that of Spain while drawing on the musical tradition established by composers like Manuel de Falla, Isaac Albéniz, Joaquín Rodrigo, and Enrique Granados.

3rd Movement: Fire (Fuego)
Fire is primal, elemental, passionate, fascinating, and barely controllable. Since the beginning of recorded history, it has been at the center of events that shaped the fate of humankind – both for good and for evil. But fire also has an unrivalled cleansing power: the old, the outdated, the sins of the past can all be erased through the flames of a purifying fire; and probably no other festival in the world embodies all these aspects of fire like the Fallas of Valencia.
Like the fallers during the Despertà which starts every morning of the week-long celebration, several orchestral hits awaken the audience and ring in the festivities of the day with an explosive display of firecracker and fireworks barrages. The sheer overwhelming sensory impact of the celebratory crowd and the masterfully conceived, fanciful large and small ninots (Valencian for ‘puppets’ or ‘dolls’) to an observer walking through the festive plazas and streets become mere glimpses and fleeting impressions, represented by short fanfares and brief reprises of previous thematic material. Outbursts of a rapid motif reminiscent of a frenzied ritualistic pagan dance around a burning fire gradually build to the climactic collapse of the flaming pyres that consume all but a few of the fallas at the end of the festival. Out of the sparks and smoldering embers emerges a peaceful quotation of an Andalusian folk song. The concerto ends in a characteristically “Spanish” fashion by using musical idioms typically associated with music from this region, bringing this work to a rousing conclusion.

Tim Jansa - Concierto Iberico (Euphonium Concerto) - III. Fire (Orchestra)

"Colors: A Celebration" was commissioned by Atlanta Freedom Bands to commemorate its hosting the 2013 Lesbian and Gay Band Association (LGBA) Conference in Atlanta, Georgia. This work is a celebration of the diversity, strength and unbreakable spirit of the LGBT community.

The 8½-minute piece begins by roughly tracing the history of the Gay Rights Movement: beginning at the Stonewall Riots of 1969 and the first Gay Pride March in New York City in 1970; gaining strength and prominence in the 1970s; suffering unspeakable tragedy and set-backs in the 1980s and ‘90s and finally gaining momentum that is propelling it, step by step, toward the ultimate goal of allowing LGBT men and women to assume total equality in today’s society.
The work opens with a powerful, sudden, explosive and ‘colorful’ thematic statement that is then repeated throughout: “We are here, and we are here to stay.” A march-like motif, somber at first, quickly gains clarity and strength, depicting a community gradually defining and asserting itself. After a brief climactic moment, a trumpet solo theme heralds courage and despair, joy and tragedy, the will go on tempered by doubts about the ultimate outcome. These three motifs and themes form the major building blocks of Colors.

At the end of the exposition, the mood quickly brightens, the tempo picks up, and the ‘good times’ begin by depicting LGBT men and women in all their colorful and diverse nature: artistic, quirky, mischievous, physical, loving – and everything in-between. (Listen for a number of small musical quotes and puns along the way!) This fun section eventually leads into a depiction of our community “coming of age”, and ultimately the climactic finale of Colors combines all previous motifs and themes, pitting them against each other until they reach a rousing celebration of equality and victory over bias, ill-will and hatred. The work ends with (wedding?) bells ringing and a final glorious statement of the main theme.

Tim Jansa - Colors: A Celebration (2013)

Born in Germany in 1974, German-American composer Tim Jansa‘s music is heard in venues ranging from concert halls to salons throughout Europe, Asia, Australia, and the Americas. He has received numerous commissions to compose new works and create arrangements for a wide variety of ensembles from choral settings and chamber groups, to symphony orchestra and concert band–as well as custom pieces with non-traditional instrumentation. The catalog of his works includes solo vocal and choral music; two string quartets; music for piano, orchestra, concert band, and brass ensemble; as well as a symphony. His collaboration with internationally-renowned artists has resulted in a number of his works establishing themselves as standards in their respective areas.

Jansa’s Concierto Ibérico (Concerto for Euphonium) was a finalist for the 2010 Harvey G. Phillips Award for Composition. His works have been featured on several radio programs, one winning a 2013 Associated Press APME Award. Jansa’s music has also been recorded for the Albany Records Label.

In addition to his compositional endeavors, Jansa has conducted several performances of his music both in Europe and the United States. He also serves on the board of directors of the Atlanta Chamber Winds.

Tim Jansa lives in Atlanta, GA, USA.

Tim Jansa, composer

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