Howard Prince, trombone; Portland Youth Philharmonic; Jacob Avshalomov, conductor
The chameleon, of course, is an attractive little lizard that changes color to suit its surroundings. As a child I owned one, bought for a dime, with a chain around its neck. It was worn on the shirt front, secured by a safety-pin; we besieged it with brilliant sheets of colored paper, and the poor thing tried its best. It seems to me, in retrospect, a good symbol of variety with integrity, which is the intent of my Chameleon Variations. -William Bergsma
The Prologue, Capriccio, and Epilogue have no program or text and is geared to the sonorities of a large orchestra. The title needs little further elaboration. A short, calm prologue leads, with quickened tempo and dynamic thrust, directly to the capriccio, which forms the core of this composition. It is a turbulent capriccio, filled with rapid and numerous changes of meter, rising to many climactic peaks, and alternating between wit, sardonicism, lyricism, and outright savageness. The conclusion of this section passes without pause into the epilogue, which is quiet and enigmatic in character. The material of the epilogue is drawn from the preceding two sections and the entire work ends with a quiet, sustained oboe phrase. -Benjamin Lees
For The World of Paul Klee, David Diamond has taken his inspiration from four paintings by Klee titled: Dance of the Grieving Child, The Black Prince, Pastorale and Twittering Machine.
It seems fitting for several reasons that Klee’s work should generate musical aftereffects. He was an excellent violinist, he often discussed his formal problems in terms of theme and motive and he insisted that graphic art also involves the element of time no less in the viewing than in the creation of a work.
This title, originally issued on the CRI label, is now available as a burn-on-demand CD (CD-R) or download in MP3/320, FLAC or WAV formats. CD-Rs come in a protective sleeve; no print booklet or jewel case included. Liner notes are accessible via the link above.
