WTAMU Symphonic Band – 2026 Performance Tour

About the Program

Royal Welch Fusiliers (John Philip Sousa)

The Royal Welch Fusiliers marches were composed in memory of the association of U.S. Marines with the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion in China. The occasion was the thirtieth anniversary of the Battle of Tientsin. General Wendell C. Neville, commandant of the Marine Corps, asked Sousa to compose a march, and the fact that two separate marches were composed was revealed in an exchange of letters between Sousa and Neville. Late in 1929, Sousa composed a medley-march that included The World Turned Upside-Down, Hymn of the Marines, Men of Harlech, and God Bless the Prince of Wales. When he asked Neville’s opinion, Neville replied that he would prefer an original Sousa composition. Sousa composed a second march, and this is the one known today.

Finale from Symphony No. 4 in F minor (P. I. Tchaikovsky / arr. V. F. Safranek)

To say that Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky was a melancholy man would be a rather drastic understatement. Throughout his life, the brilliant composer was plagued by depression and self-doubt, particularly where his music was concerned. It has even been suggested that he took his own life (by deliberately drinking water during a cholera epidemic) after his Sixth Symphony received a lukewarm response from critics. He was famously ambivalent about works such as The Nutcracker, which would, of course, become one of the world’s most beloved pieces of classical music. The only one of his works that he seemed to genuinely love was Symphony No. 4, composed in 1877.

The work was written for his mysterious patroness, Nadezhda von Meck, who paid for all of the composer’s expenses during the period, but strangely insisted they never meet in person. She also wished the dedication to be anonymous, so Tchaikovsky simply dedicated it “to my best friend.” The symphony addresses the role of fate in one’s life, and ultimately how the search for individual happiness can be futile if fate has decreed otherwise. The fate motif appears at the opening of the first movement in the trumpets and horns and recurs at the end of the fourth, interrupting an otherwise joyous experience. The “Finale” is described by the composer as an attempt to seek out the happiness of others and to lose oneself in a carnival-like atmosphere. In the end, however, fate crashes the party, again in the throbbing triplet fanfare in trumpet and horn, and the protagonist is reminded of himself and his isolation.

Concerto for Alto Saxophone (Steven Bryant)

The Concerto for Alto Saxophone is Steven Bryant’s third concerto, which is somewhat ironic since he said he didn’t like concerti and never planned to write one. This one was a particular challenge, though, since the alto saxophone was his primary instrument throughout high school and college. One might think that would make it easier to compose for, but Bryant found that he had to set aside his own limitations as a player—particularly the fact that he had not played regularly in 20 years—and explore the incredible virtuosity of the soloist for whom this piece was written, Joseph Lulloff.

He wanted to showcase both his technical prowess as well as his extraordinary jazz improvisation skills, even going so far as to record and transcribe some of his improvisations during a collaborative session while he was composing the work. All three movements are constructed from a single motive, which is itself derived from the opening notes of Paul Creston’s Sonata for Alto Saxophone, a staple of the solo saxophone repertoire and something Bryant had played during his college years as a music major. Movement III unleashes the soloist and ensemble in high-speed interplay, again derived from the same central motive. Most of all, Bryant strove to create a work that explores and celebrates the idiomatic characteristics of the saxophone.

Fantastic Dreams (Frank Ticheli)

Fantastic Dreams by Frank Ticheli was composed during his six-week residency in the late summer and early fall of 2023 at the MacDowell Colony in Peterborough, New Hampshire. The work’s four short movements—really dreamscapes—are wide-ranging in mood and style, yet connected via shared musical motives, gestures, and themes.

Dancing with the Muses bursts forth ecstatically, settling into a series of short, light-hearted variations, each showcasing a different instrument or group—bassoon, oboe, horns, alto saxophones, trumpets. Short episodes and ghostly gestures interrupt the variations, like unrelated thoughts interrupting a dream.

Elysian Fields is a meditation directly influenced by quiet morning walks at the MacDowell Colony amid peaceful forests and meadows. Unhurried lyrical lines float over a gentle walking motif that lilts back and forth like a lullaby.

L.A. Noir pays tribute to old Hollywood’s film noir tradition—a frantic chase scene, a dark figure lurking in the shadows, a moment of quiet, anxious anticipation. Midway through, the calm oboe melody from the scherzo’s middle section reappears, now in a more menacing atmosphere. The suspense builds relentlessly, the music culminating in a ferocious roar that suggests the melodramatic endings typical of many film noir pictures.

Un Cafécito (Dennis Llinás)

The phrase Un Cafécito means “a little coffee.” Dennis Llinás grew up in Miami’s Cuban culture, where it was customary for co-workers to bring to work an eight-ounce cup filled with Cuban coffee (basically really strong and sweet espresso) with many tiny shot cups. At certain points in the day, they would approach colleagues and pour a quick shot for them accompanied by the phrase, “¿Quieres un cafecito?” translating to, “Do you want a little coffee?” Needless to say, after that shot, you were ready for another few hours of daily activity. This piece is meant to be just that—a little bit of a pick-me-up.

Flying Jewels (James M. David)

Flying Jewels by James M. David is a symphonic poem for wind ensemble that attempts to capture the joyous and hopeful spirit of a famous essay (Joyas Voladoras) by the late author Brian Doyle (1956–2017). The essay asserts the connection that all people and creatures share; we all have one heart that carries us through life’s struggles, victories, and simple pleasures. David’s composition deals with the themes of Doyle’s essay by depicting the heart rhythms of different creatures through various metric/tempo modulations and relationships.

First is the hummingbird, flitting about with bright flourishes from woodwinds and metallic percussion at superhuman speeds. A reptile’s three-chambered heart is heard next, with nods to the triple-meter dances of the Caribbean. At the center of the work is the human heart, which is a simple tune that slowly builds to a cadence at the heart rate of a blue whale: four giant chords that resound under ocean depths. Finally, the work recapitulates each idea while gaining speed to combine all of the tempi in an exuberant and ecstatic finale.

This work was commissioned by the United States Air Force Band, Washington, D.C., Col. Don Schofield, commander and conductor.