Sub Navigation

Search Music:

Search for music by typing a word or phrase in the box below or by selecting one or more categories from the list on the side.

Or search for products by selecting an option below, and typing a word or phrase in the box above

  • Scores
  • CDs and DVDs
  • Downloads
  • Education Resources

Neville Hall  

a splinter of silence in the belly of time

Duration: 15' 00" Year: 1994
for string quartet and clarinet

Denise Hulford  

Before the Stars begin to Shine

Duration: 07' 00" Year: 1994
for cello and timpani

  • Programme Note

    Before the Stars Begin To Shine is written for solo violoncello and timpani. The work is a comment on the period of time between the often picturesque part of the day when the sun sets and the stars begin to shine. In southern regions of New Zealand this part of the day is called twilight and is defined as the time between sunset and darkness. Twilight can also mean the period of time when life begins to draw to a close. When twilight is referred to in the context of a day it may have a joyous meaning, but when associated with the penultimate stage of a life cycle it can bring sorrow. This work was written in memory of a dear friend who was drowned on January 2nd, 1994.

  • Availability

Neville Hall  

beneath the veil of silence

Duration: 08' 00" Year: 1994
for clarinet, alto sax, violin, cello and piano

  • Programme Note

    Ten years have passed since I wrote beneath the veil of silence. I remember at the time I was reading Michel Foucault’s The Order of Things, which is where I found the title for my piece. The fact that I was reading a book entitled The Order of Things says something about my preoccupation at the time – order.

    This preoccupation derived mainly from a fascination with the visual patterns of nature, in particular patterns found in trees and other flora, as well as patterns found in the movement of water in all its forms. There must, I thought, be a link between order and beauty; and perhaps by exploring this relationship I might also have a chance of making something beautiful.

    The phrase beneath the veil of silence also refers to nature. Specifically, the idea that nature contains a message, it is trying to tell us something, but it is mute and unable to speak directly. Hence the veil – something is concealed from our view, even though we are aware of its presence.

    The order of beneath the veil of silence is also intentionally hidden from view; it resides at a deep level in the structure of the piece. The surface we hear is laced with signs that refer to this deep structure but always in a more or less obscure way. Hopefully, the result is a sense of order – a feeling that something is going on in the background, without our ever being sure exactly what.

    There are two main structural layers to the piece – one that determines the pitch organisation and one that determines the temporal/rhythmic design of the composition. These two conceptually unrelated layers, both products of reiterative processes, are superimposed and interact with each other; in particular, the rhythmic design “smudges” the previously almost geometrically perfect pitch design, shifting elements left and right, and unpicking vertical pitch configurations.

    The “fleshing out” of this structural skeleton, although to some extent elaborating material from the skeleton itself, was largely an act of imagination/fantasy. Perhaps this is why the timbral aspect of the piece is so important. It is really in the interaction of the various instrumental combinations that the “poetry” of the piece (if it exists) is located. Thus following timbral indications, such as sul tasto or sul ponticello, are just as important as playing the right note at the right time; and being clear about how each part fits together, and what each part contributes to the combined timbre of the ensemble, is critical to performing the piece convincingly.

    Listening to beneath the veil of silence now, I can hear that I was preoccupied with a post-serial musical idiom in the early 1990s. This is hardly surprising considering my teachers we very much of the “Darmstadt” generation and heavily influenced by serialism. In recent years, I have moved away from this approach to composing, but the critical role of timbre and the search for the relationship between order and beauty are two things that remain from the early period. There are very few pieces written before beneath the veil of silence that I would now offer for performance, so this work is very much a starting point, the first step down a path that leads who knows where…

  • Availability

Michelle Scullion  

Cadenza 20 Years 2Day - Yay Celebrate

 Year: 1994
for two trumpets, violoncello and congas

Juliet Palmer  

Deep Stew

Duration: 10' 00" Year: 1994
for electric violin, bass clarinet, Hammond organ and drum kit

  • Programme Note

    “Have you ever lost your mouth or anything in that small area… your lips, your teeth, your tongue, your tonsils? The throat – everything around there. You’d be in deep stew, yes.” Patti Labelle, Moon Shadow

    Listening to the Hammond-centred sound of the Peddlers in my parents’ car in 1974, I’d feel positively queasy. Ransacking my Dad’s cassette collection a few years, I stumbled across some of this old ‘driving music’. Somehow I no longer felt nauseous when I listened to it. Around the same time I bought my brother a collection of Rare Groove for his 30th birthday. One of the stand-out tracks is of Patti Labelle singing her version of Cat Stevens’ Moonshadow. The central section is an insanely long rant by Labelle in which each of the musicians solo (including a fabulous Hammond improv). Deep Stew takes it title and its spirit from this crazy sequence of ‘what if’s.

    Commissioned by the Composers’ Association of New Zealand with funds from the QEII Arts Council, Deep Stew was premiered in 1994 at Wellington Town Hall, New Zealand. The Bang on a Can All-Stars gave the work its American premiere in 1995 at New York’s Lincoln Center.

  • Availability

Mark Langford  

Geoffrey-a motley feathered duck-glimpses distantly and ponders.

 Year: 1994
for wind and percussion

Noel Sanders  

Loomin'

 Year: 1994
for clarinet, cello and piano

Thomas Goss  

Matins

Duration: 08' 55" Year: 1994, r. 2004
for alto flute with harp or piano

  • Programme Note

    Matins is a musical depiction of a mind coming into focus upon waking. As the cool quiet of the morning acts as a canvas that is slowly painted by gradual awareness, this piece builds from the inherently calm symbiosis of alto flute and harp into a more complex emotional picture as the developing themes explore moods of reverence, expectation, and bittersweet optimism.

    From a flutist’s standpoint, Matins is an exploration of the alto flute’s personality, too often stereotyped only as low and velvety. While that is undoubtedly a trademark sound, the instrument is also capable of great subtlety and flexibility throughout its range. As the work unfolds, the rich presence of the middle register is unleashed, and the cool sweetness of the high notes is coaxed out of the arcing phrases.

    The title refers to the first canonical hour, celebrated at daybreak. The Gregorian chant quoted as a second subject is from the Easter liturgy, however, and is used to express a sense of purposeful introspection rather than as any specific reference to ritual.

  • Availability

John Psathas  

Overture

Duration: 05' 00" Year: 1994
for 4 horns in F, 3 trumpets in B flat, 3 trombones, 4 percussionists

Ross Carey  

Te Whanganui-a-Tara

Duration: 13' 00" Year: 1994
for alto flute/flute, guitar and cello

  • Programme Note

    The title Te Whanganui-a-Tara or ‘The Great Harbour of Tara’ is the original Maori name for Port Nicholson, commonly know as Wellington Harbour. I conceived the piece while living in the hillside suburb of Roseneath, where from certain vantage points the harbour lies enticingly at one’s feet in several directions. The piece is in three movements.

    I. Entwining melodic figures on alto flute, joined by guitar and cello relate a time before any human presence around this body of water; the hills and valley are alive with the sounds of birds and insects.

    II. Energetic motions convey the great Earthquake of the 1400s, which raised the land where Wellington airport now stands; the ensuing calm of the changed landscape is indicated by an ascending motif over an open fifth.

    III. A contemporary portrait; the busy lives of the inhabitants scattered all around the quiet presence of the great harbour of Tara.

    Written for guitarist Kazuhito Yamashita, the work received its premiere in ‘Green Concerts Volume Two’ held at ALTI Hall, Kyoto, in April 1995.

  • Availability