“7 Cromwell Place, White Plains, New York. Completed in 1893, and for forty years (1921 -1961) the Home of Percy Grainger, Distinguished concert pianist and composer. Westchester County Historical Society 1982.”

    The Percy Grainger home, built in 1893 by David Cromwell, is an imposing two-story sitting majestically upon a stone base standing atop a hill that would have once commanded a wonderful view of White Plains. Grainger bought the home in 1921, after he was encouraged by his neighbors to move from his apartment in New York City to a place more tolerant of his long hours of practice at the piano. He moved into this large house with nine rooms, an attic, and a basement with his mother, Rose, in April 1921 and this was to be his home for the rest of his life.
    The home is very much like Grainger left it in 1961, and one can almost feel his spirit bouncing from room to room, singing County Gardens. Entering the house, one steps back in time over a century ago with the furnishings similar to 1893. Inside, surrounded by his memorabilia, there is something almost mystical that brings his memory back alive. The house is a veritable treasure trove.
    Inside, I walked first to the large table in the dining room, where I knew Grainger laid out the pages of his scores as he worked on various parts. Susan pointed out that the light fixtures, original to the house, had been installed with thought to the future, primed for both gas and electricity. Instantly I conceived an image of Grainger bent over his manuscripts, the lights dancing his shadow upon the walls.
    A shadow of sadness resides here in the home, as we recall Percy’s strong relationship with his mother, Rose. Many of her dishes still remain on the shelves of the pantry cabinet. Only a year after moving here, Rose’s mental and physical health began to worsen. On April 30, 1922, when Grainger was touring on the West Coast, Rose traveled to New York City and jumped to her death from an office window on the 18th floor of the Aeolian Building. After Rose’s funeral Grainger left for a year long trip where he collected and recorded Danish folk songs and also visited Frederick Delius in Norway. Grainger returned to White Plains in 1923 where he continued to compose and give piano recitals.
    Coming back from a tour of Australia in 1926 on board the ship Aurongi, Grainger met his future wife, Ella Viola Strom. They married two years later on August 9, 1928 and the wedding ceremony was held during the intermission of a Grainger concert in front of 20,000 people at the Hollywood Bowl.
    Grainger composed an orchestral tone poem To a Nordic Princess for Ella as a wedding gift, which was performed by 126 players at the ceremony, the largest orchestra yet to have played at the Bowl. Grainger declared that getting married to Ella was the best thing he had ever done in his life.
    Ella was both a poet and artist who lived with Grainger from the time of their marriage until his death in 1961. Ella was of immense help to Grainger both as an inspiration and performer. She learned to play bells, marimba, and the xylophone for his music and can be heard on the Stokowski recording of Granger’s music. After Grainger died, Ella continued to live at 7 Cromwell Place until her death there at the age of 90, and her presence is evident in every room throughout the house.

Oil painting of Percy Grainger, by his wife, Ella.

    It is especially thrilling to explore the music room. Above the beautiful Steinway is Ella’s large, colorful oil painting of Grainger. Throughout his life Grainger often preferred an upright piano for the hard touch he sought for certain effects, and here in the room is one that belonged to his lifelong friend, composer Cyril Scott. There is also Grainger’s harmonium, which was used for other desired effects. On the wall are framed photographs of composers Edvard Grieg and Frederick Delius, two major influences on Grainger’s musical development, and a bronze table presented by the National Music Council stating: “Home of Percy Grainger 1882-1961, the celebrated Australian-Pianist and composer who made his home in White Plains until his death.” Before moving on in my tour I sat for a moment beneath Grainger’s gaze at the grand piano and played the theme from Irish Tune from County Derry, the music that introduced many of us to the magical musical world of Percy Grainger.
    In the hallway before the partition into the living room I reached up and touched Grainger’s chinning bar, another example of his passion for physical fitness.

Grainger, passionate about fitness, had a chin-up bar installed near his living room.

    Walking up the stairs I passed a beautiful Tiffany window, which adds charm to this home. The second floor contains the separate bedroom of Percy and Ella and a third guest room where the composer Henry Cowell once stayed. The rooms contain many individual mementos like medicine bottles, hats, and several paintings and sketches by Ella. What I found most striking were three butterfly collections, the colors still vivid and fresh, after years behind glass.
    We went up more stairs for a quick look at the attic, which still holds items stored by the Graingers and even earlier, by the Cromwells. It seemed that the complete lifetime of this house has been preserved.
    Preservation of his life’s work was paramount in Grainger’s mind because he had a room in the basement built to be fireproof and there he stored his compositions and scores. It is filed and sorted, held here in trust, even as his works are also housed in the Library of Congress. In other rooms of the basement are boxes of his letters, pamphlets from concerts, records, and sheet music. Here, volunteers of the Grainger Historical Society face a fascinating and daunting task to organize and catalogue all these innumerable items. I believe that Grainger would be proud of the interest, dedication, and love evident toward him. Incompre-hensible to us today, in his last years, Grainger considered his career a failure. He said, “All my compositional life I have been a leader without followers.” His failure to be recognized as a composer for anything beyond his folksong arrangements was a source of frustration and disappointment to him.
    Grainger died of prostate cancer in the White Plains hospital February 20,1961 at age 78. His body was flown to Adelaide, Australia, where on March 2, he was buried in the Aldridge cemetery, alongside ashes of his mother Rose. His epitaph reads, “Lover of mankind, art & nature.” On his tombstone, “George Percy Grainger, world famous composer and pianist, dearly beloved husband of Ella Grainger. Born July 24,1882. Died 20th February, 1961.”  

Sources
    Percy Grainger by John Bird (London: Faber & Faber, 1982).
    7 Cromwell Place: A Loving Tribute to Percy Grainger by Inez Bull (Ole Bull Historical Society Publication, reprinted 1996).
    “Conversations With Ella Grainger” by David Josephson (The Grainger Society Journal, Volume 11, Number 1, July, 1993, pp 3 – 90).

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Time and Pulse
    Students should focus on time and pulse while practicing. This starts in the classroom. When they are beginners, students should be taught a counting system, and this system should be used in class every day. Perhaps, as part of playing exams, students should be required to count examples before performing them. Anything that can be done to engender independence in counting will result in much more confident and accurate performances. Frequent counting quizzes can further aid the utility of this technique. It should become a deeply entrenched habit for students to count any passage accurately before attempting it on their instrument. This pays dividends when students practice, as they then can more easily work out musical problems without help.
    The next step is to teach students how to use a metronome. Most types of technical practice done without a metronome are a great waste of time. While problems can conceivably be solved without the device, its use in practice makes the work quicker and easier. It should be impressed on students from the beginning what an important tool it is, and an inexpensive metronome (or metronome app) should be a required item in even beginning band rooms.
    From the beginning, the expectation should be for students to practice any technical passage much slower than the final performance tempo. The initial tempo should be slow enough that there are no problems performing the required passage in a relaxed and accurate manner. The student should be able to perform a passage flawlessly at least two times in a row before notching the tempo up. When a tempo increase does occur, the metronome should only be advanced three to six clicks, with the aim a relaxed, accurate performance at every step. There should be no perceived shame if a decrease in tempo is necessary. All of the above can be introduced to students as a class. Transpose a challenging passage for all instruments, and use a loud classroom metronome to work through the above process together.

Tuning
    Tuners are wonderful tools that can quickly show students the tendencies of individual notes on their instruments. However, the constant presence of a visual tuner on a student’s stand can actually prove to be a detriment. If a student is constantly trying to zero the needle they are missing the point that a note can be in tune in many different places depending on its context in a musical example. Instead, students should be encouraged to rely on their ears even more readily than their eyes for intonation. During practice sessions, tuners are better used as tone generators. Matching a pitch is better for development of the ear than watching a needle.

Chunking
    The next step in teaching students how to practice is to explain the process of chunking, or dividing a piece into much smaller, more easily approachable bits. One of my favorite quotes regarding this is “How do you eat a ton of candy? One bite at a time.”
    The inclination of many young students will be to start at the beginning of an exercise or piece and play straight through to the end. Of course, this is an inefficient way of going about things. Rather, the piece should be divided into logical chunks. Where there is little technical challenge, an entire phrase can be a chunk. However, as the challenge level goes up, chunks should get smaller and smaller – two bars, one bar, two beats, one beat, or even less.
    Each chunk should be practiced with a metronome in the manner described above. Make sure that students then understand the importance of carefully linking chunks up together. Again, with a slow metronome, each section must be built into a larger whole.
    While most musical problems will yield fairly easily to the above, students should be taught a few tools for defeating especially gnarly passages. One of my favorite techniques is a rhythm changing exercise that usually tricks the brain into accepting technique it otherwise may find daunting: For a passage of straight sixteenths, with a slow metronome, perform the same notes in a dotted-sixteenth-thirty-second pattern, then in a thirty-second-dotted-sixteenth pattern. With very few exceptions, even the most difficult passages yield to this technique.

Style
    There are some who advocate simply learning technique and leaving dynamics, articulations, and ornaments for later. I have found this approach to be a mistake. When I have heard students using this technique, I often find many of their musical details to be lacking.  A much more natural way for a student to learn a passage would be for them to learn all aspects at the same time. This is easily done at a slow tempo. If there are problems as a result, the chunk can simply be reduced to a more manageable size. The result, in the final outcome, will be a much more musical, natural, and comfortable performance.

Conclusion
    With a few words of guidance and advice from the director, students will quickly see the benefits of regular practice. It will be a large first step in the direction of musical independence and constant progress.

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“Everything we do is music.”
– John Cage

    On March 5, 2017, the NBA’s New York Knicks announced shortly before a Sunday game against the Golden State Warriors that there would be no in-game music, video, or other entertainment during the first half. The reason? To let fans “experience the game in its purest form.” A chance, I assume, to hear sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, coaches yelling (cursing?) at players, fans heckling the referees, and balls swishing the net or clanking off the rim. Reactions to the experiment were mixed and several prominent players criticized the move.
    I, however, applaud the effort, and hope the idea will catch on, particularly at collegiate football games. I went to an Auburn-Ole Miss football game in Oxford, Mississippi three years ago, the first major collegiate game I had attended in many years. The biggest change from the games I attended in the late 70s – and I noticed it immediately – was the noise level. The powers that be were pumping an incessant barrage of sound into the stadium; it made my pom-pom shake on its own. Worse, little or no regard was given for the bands that were playing. The jacked-up jock jams were even played over the Ole Miss band as it played the fight song. The game as a whole was just one extended noise-fest.
    Society today does not know how to handle silence, but this is nothing new. Composer John Cage’s work 4’33" created quite the scandal at its first performance. Written in 1952, the piece consists of four minutes and thirty-three seconds in which the performer plays nothing. It was first performed by pianist David Tudor in Woodstock, New York, on August 29, 1952, for an audience supporting the Benefit Artists Welfare Fund, an organization supporting contemporary art.
    Tudor placed the conventionally notated hand-written score with blank measures on the piano and sat motionless while using a stopwatch to measure the time of each movement. The score indicated three silent movements, each a different length, but when added together totaled four minutes and thirty-three seconds. The sound of the wind in the trees entered the first movement because the concert had forested trees as its backdrop. After thirty seconds of no action, he raised the lid to signal the end of the first movement. It was then lowered for the second movement, during which time raindrops pattered on the roof. The score was in several pages, so he turned the pages as time passed, yet played nothing at all. The keyboard lid was raised and lowered again for the final movement, during which time the audience whispered and muttered uncomfortably. When Tudor finished, he raised the keyboard lid and stood as the audience burst into an agitated uproar. Even during an avant-garde concert attended by modern artists, 4’33" was considered going too far, and if contemporary vitriolic comments on YouTube are any indication, things have changed little in that regard.
    Musicians have long debated exactly what the meaning of 4’33" is, and I do not expect to end the debate here, but I think there are two important lessons that can be drawn from this piece.
    First, there is no such thing as true silence, defined here as the absence of sound. In 1951, Cage visited an anechoic (echoless) chamber at Harvard University to hear silence. He expected to hear nothing. Instead, he heard two sounds, one high and one low. He was told that the first was his nervous system and the other his blood circulating. This experience convinced him that silence defined as a total absence of sound did not exist. He soon redefined silence as simply the absence of intended sounds or the turning off of our awareness.
    Second, music is all around us. Cage believed that sounds of the environment constituted a music far more interesting than any heard in a concert hall. Yet today, things like blasting car stereos and ears plugged with earphones prevent so many from making intimate, aural contact with the world around them. People only hear only what they have chosen to hear; they cut themselves off from rich experiences that are free.
    Cage’s 4’33" should inspire us to a deeper awareness of everything around us. At a football game, there are many wonderful sounds that should not be covered up by an overzealous stadium DJ: the buzz of people talking and laughing excitedly, the thud of a football being kicked 50 yards, cheerleaders firing up the crowd, vendors hawking their foodstuffs, the sound of a plane flying overhead, and, of course, the bands.
    There is, of course, wonderful music performed at the Midwest Clinic by many of the greatest musicians in the world, but do we ever stop to hear music that is not listed in concert programs? Take the exhibits for example. They are full of an Ives-like cacophony – merchants demonstrating their wares, trumpets squealing, drumsticks clacking, saxes soaring into the altissimo, piccolos poking at eardrums, colleagues talking, friends laughing, tubas bellowing, drums competing with each other to be heard, ride cymbals chinging, and keyboards arguing for playing time. The streets of Chicago have a music you have to walk outside to hear, and area restaurants don’t just have a lonely pianist for music. Sit and listen and you’ll hear free music of a different sort.
So, as you go to Midwest, think about taking in more sounds that just what you hear in the music halls. At some point, sit back for a minute or so, maybe even for four minutes and 33 seconds, and soak in the experience. It may be the best concert of your week.

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    Every year at Mark Keppel High School in Alhambra, California, Orchestra Camp occurs the week before the new school year. In reflecting and planning for camp, we identified improved intonation as a primary goal for the year. An internet search quickly uncovered the key concept on which to build this project: audiation. From the work of Edwin E. Gordon (1977), audiation is the ability to hear and comprehend sound without actually playing or singing it. Michael E. Martin, in his article 14 Steps Toward Improved Intonation () reiterated the importance of audiation: “Good intonation comes primarily from inside the player’s head.”
    We wanted our students to develop their internal ear so they could play better in tune with more confidence and increase their ability to anticipate how music notation would sound prior to actually playing it. We took to heart three of Martin’s steps: “Sing everything before you play; always audiate what you are going to perform before you perform it; and develop a vocabulary of scales and tonal patterns that you can sing, play and recognize.” Accordingly, we developed a simple strategy, TSP (think, sing, play), to introduce to our students in camp that year.
    On day one of Orchestra Camp, we introduced the students to their new vocabulary word, audiation, and explained how it could help us play more in tune. We began with the D major scale. Students notated the scale on the board, filled in the solfege syllables, we internally sang the syllables, sang the syllables aloud, and finally played the scale.
    Next, the students worked in sectionals (upper strings, low strings, winds and percussion). Each group worked from a book or chorales. We used chorales in the key of D for the first days of camp and then other keys, such as G and A for the strings and Bb and Eb for the winds. For each daily chorale, we practiced thinking each part, one at a time (soprano, alto, tenor, bass); singing each part; singing two (SA), three (SAT), and four parts (SATB) together; playing each part; and then playing the four parts together. At the conclusion of sectionals, students came back together and played their chorales for each other.
    Gradually we introduced the hand symbols for each solfege syllable, the chromatic scale in solfege, and the harmonic minor scale. In each case, we followed the same process of thinking, singing, and playing. During camp we also wrote simple melodic phrases on the board for students to read using solfege, such as Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and Jingle Bells. The process became second nature by the end of camp. As the school year started, we transferred the strategy of TSP to their concert repertoire.
    We reinforced the concept of audiation and the strategy of looking thoughtfully at the musical notation, singing it mentally and out loud, and only then playing it. As we progressed through a challenging fall semester, preparing and performing the musical A Christmas Carol, we maintained daily warmup exercises in solfege, always thinking, singing, and playing the exercises. Lee continued the process as the students learned the spring concert repertoire. As an added incentive to apply their new knowledge of solfege and the TSP strategy, Bartlett composed a piece for the Orchestra, aptly entitled Solfeggiana. Capitalizing on their abilities to sing solfege, the piece requires students to sing brief sections, and even to play and sing simultaneously. Lee sustained the TSP strategy throughout their learning of the piece, breaking into instrumental sections to write in the solfege syllables and practice singing.
    Getting instrumentalists to sing may be a challenge. If your students are anything like ours, you will hear comments like “This isn’t a choir” or “We signed up for orchestra.” It’s not that students dislike singing, but they probably have rarely done it outside the comfort of the shower or bedroom. Singing in public can be intimidating for many; establishing the music room as a place where mistakes are encouraged and where students feel safe and free of judgment is crucial to getting students to sing. Singing in a band or orchestra is not only a great stepping stone for teaching more music theory; it is an easy way of getting your kids to play in tune while building their self-confidence.
    To evaluate the outcomes of our audition project, we asked three music teacher colleagues not associated with our school or district to listen to the first five minutes of the orchestra’s spring concert performances, one from April 2016, the second from April 2017. We asked them to rate the intonation of the group using a simple rubric. Two of the three rated the orchestra’s intonation better (from 2 to 3) the year of the solfege project, and one rated the intonation the same for both years. We conclude from our project that the time spent on teaching and reviewing solfege through daily practice seems to increase students’ ability to audiate, resulting in more confident playing and better intonation. The experiment continues as we carry the project forward into the new school year.

Resources
    Learning Sequence and Patterns in Music by Edwin E. Goodwin (Chicago: G.I.A. Publications, 1977).
    14 Steps Toward Improved Intonation: Solo and Group Exercises from Author and Instructor Michael E. Martin, posted by James Reel, from Stringsmagazine.com.
    Bach and Before for Strings by David Newell (Neil A. Kjos Music Company, 2005).
    Bach and Before for Band by David Newell (Neil A. Kjos Music Company, 2002).

    Download a free copy of Solfeggiana at Enter code 2017SOL.

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How does it feel to serve as Director of Bands at your alma mater?
    This is my second year at the University of Minnesota, and I feel a wonderful sense of responsibility to continue the program’s fantastic legacy. Emeritus Director of Bands Craig Kirchhoff was one of my band directors when I was an undergraduate. It is an absolute pleasure to come home and take the baton from Professor Kirchhoff. In so doing, it is important to me to continue the work that has been done, by all former and current directors, while also starting new initiatives and traditions.

What traditions have you started?
    There really hasn’t been enough time to label anything we’ve done as a tradition, but I am proud to share our initiatives and current state of affairs. This season, we started a social media presence to get the word out about what we are doing within the comprehensive U of M Band program. In addition to a thriving 320-member marching band, we have six concert bands, including four predominantly non-major bands, which are the largest they have ever been.
    In the coming years, we are working toward going on tours and performing at regional and national conferences to build a greater presence in the band community. We are increasing our collaborations with other local ensembles. We are performing joint concerts with community bands and offering events where high school students participate next to college students. We are working to take all groups off campus to perform at high schools and other venues during the daytime. Additionally, we will continue recording projects and collaborations with guest artists and composers.

How involved are you in recruiting?
    My opinion is that everyone at a school of music is responsible for recruiting. Every time I work with a high school band, honor band, community, or professional ensemble, there is some level of recruiting. The performers in those ensembles hear what my values are, hear and see how I teach, and feel how I respond to them as musicians. I try to let my work speak for itself and if a prospective student resonates with me, they can find out where I teach.

What common problems do you see when conducting honor bands and giving clinics?
    Choosing appropriate repertoire is always the greatest challenge for any guest conductor and clinician. Given that, two of the biggest areas of opportunity nationwide are reading rhythm and internalizing subdivision. Many students struggle with individual ownership of internal pulse, playing music with offbeats, syncopations, and entrances on the and of the beat. It seems that students are less comfortable reading rhythmic notation, as many have shared with me that their teachers sing the rhythms rather than teach how to read. In my experience when pulse and rhythm are secure, addressing artistic elements in the music is easier and more fun.

What lessons did you learn in your first few years of teaching?
    A degree in music, at any level, is just the introduction to the work ahead. School can prepare you for many components, but it simply cannot prepare you for everything. My first position was as a public high school band and instrumental music director. I was responsible for all elements of the program. The most important lesson that I learned is that there is much more work to do than there are hours in the day – and the work is constant. Prioritizing is key, but knowing what to prioritize takes time. For your first few years, try to set reasonable goals, address what is most important or necessary first, be proud of what you accomplish, and be patient with yourself in the process.
    Additional nuggets of wisdom that I learned in my first years of teaching are to start building the program from the inside out – focus on students and infrastructure; accept that much of your time will be spent on administrative tasks; be incredibly organized; learn to be productive while tired; aim to be positive in all aspects of your work; and stay connected by participating in state, regional, and national events and conferences.

How have you set the tone in your various teaching positions?
    In every place I have ever taught I have tried to achieve a high level of organization and excellence. This can start simply with clean and orderly workspaces and clear and timely communication. This sends a message that you care about the learning environment and you are respectful of time. I also believe in creating a culture of leadership and ownership from within an organization – students, parents, colleagues, staff, and others. There are many talented and capable people to learn from and to help.
    When I taught high school, I had a band handbook with expectations, rules, assessment, and other details outlined. While teaching in the collegiate setting, I create working documents that all colleagues and graduate students can see and update. We meet on a weekly basis to discuss events, issues, ideas, and updates. I meet with individual colleagues, graduate students, and staff to discuss expectations and needs.
    Regarding setting a tone in the classroom, I work to be very clear with my expectations and how we are going to spend our time together. My syllabi have daily details, my rehearsals are organized by the minute, and I communicate what to prepare for our next session as effectively as possible. I also put a daily schedule up on the board. If class starts at 10:00, I’ll say 10:00-10:02 instruments come together, 10:02-10:04 warm up, 10:04-10:06 announcements. When students see a neat room and that level of minute-by-minute organization, that sets an expectation and creates discipline in rehearsals. When I teach, I try to teach with passion, care of those with whom I am working, and commitment to excellence.

What separates good conducting from average conducting?
    I believe great conductors are great listeners. They worry more about how the music and ensemble sounds than they do how they move or look. Great conductors are able to adjust how they move to influence what they are hearing from their ensemble.
    In the best way possible, all conducting teachers try to get aspiring conductors to connect to the sound and to the musicians in front of them. As a conducting teacher, it is easier to address what is seen because no one is able to hear what another person can hear. Because of this, I tend to ask aspiring conductors many questions, such as: What sounds do you want to hear? Do you want a bright sound, a dark sound? Do you want this section to be wild and crazy or crisp and bright? What is your emotional narrative or your descriptive adjective? Once they have a good descriptor for the emotion or color they want, we discuss the how to move our bodies and hands and use our breath to produce that.
    Certainly, all of this takes time. For young conductors, knowing how to listen and what to listen for is a daunting task. I remember my ears when I first began teaching. I could hear the trumpets and upper woodwinds perfectly. Then, I could somewhat hear the bass line. The middle voices were very hard for me to discern. It took several years for me to really be able to hear details of the full ensemble. I have also developed a stronger image of what I want to hear, and my ear goes to the sounds that do not match that image. In the second movement of Lincolnshire Posy, I want to have an even split between horns and reeds. If I start a group and the horns are dominant while everyone else is soft, that guides me to adjust the balance. In the opening of First Suite in Eb, I want a homogenous sound between tubas and euphoniums, but often one of the sections sounds a little louder, especially with younger players. I will notice that right away. That awareness came from several years of standing in front of groups and digging into scores to develop ideas about what I want.
    Great conductors also have a strong point of view and impulse of will. They are not afraid to convey their ideas and are willing to get what they want out of the music. This confidence also takes a bit of time and experience.

What advice would you give a new teacher?
    All teachers tell their students that the first year is the most difficult. This is true. There will be incredible pressure, frustration, and moments of anxiety. These feelings are a normal part of the experience and the learning curve. Over time these feelings turn into enthusiasm and excitement in a productive way. Be kind to yourself and know that you can bounce back from early difficulties. I also advise new teachers to find mentors who they trust. I am grateful to my own mentors for continued guidance. Finally, keep yourself organized, realize you cannot do everything all of the time, try to keep your enthusiasm for the art burning hot, and do whatever you can to take care of yourself.
    Regarding balance, in my experience, early in a career it is very difficult to find balance between work and personal life. The learning curve in our work is steep and knowing where to put energy takes time, especially in new positions. Once a few years are under the belt, the balance can be equalized.

What is the most important lesson you learned from a mentor?
    The most important lesson is to remember that we are working with human beings. I love to dig intensely into the music, push an ensemble to a high level of performance, challenge a class on a tough topic, and expect a lot from others, but I do not want to do it without sensitivity. It is important that everyone that I work with feels heard and appreciated.   

* * *

Favorite Pieces For High School Band

    There are many compositions that would fit this list, but here are my top five high school level band compositions, listed chronologically:

The Florentiner March
Julius Fucˇík (1907)

First Suite in Eb
Gustav Holst (1909)

Irish Tune and Shepherd’s Hey
Percy Grainger (1918)

Courtly Airs and Dances
Ron Nelson (1996)

An American Elegy
Frank Ticheli (2000)

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