AUTOBONN is the second in a series of pieces called Imagined Adventures; short, programmatic works based on childhood fantasies. It is about the dream of taking off in a fast sports car, ramping up the energy with each gearshift.

This work was commissioned as part of the celebration of Beethoven’s 250th birthday in 2020. All of the motives were taken from the Presto movement of his String Quartet No. 14, Op. 131, in C-sharp minor. The quartet movement itself is a galloping race, which provided ample opportunity for orchestral adrenaline. The original opening cello arpeggio is treated as the roaring engine ignition in all of the low strings, bassoons, and timpani. Each successive section takes us through a different gear, with first gear being light in color and register, as our sports car is revving through high RPMs off the starting line. The second gear drops a bit lower as the engine resets for another build up, with the third gear dropping further, and then building up further still. Finally, we reach the last gear and a direct quote of the original string quartet, with the car beginning its last push towards top speed, all before winding down as the joyride comes to an end.

N.B. The composer apologizes for the title of this piece, fusing Autobahn, the famous German roadway, and Bonn, the town of Beethoven’s birth. The pun is indeed, regrettable, but necessary.

RUNNING ON ROOFTOPS is the first in a series of pieces called Imagined Adventures; short, programmatic works based on childhood fantasies. This fanfare is about the superhero fantasy of running, jumping, swinging, or flying across a city skyline.

It begins with rumbling, dreary, motoric “street-level” music, which lightens as our character spots a fire escape, and begins daydreaming about climbing to the roof to test out new imaginary super powers. As the piece progresses, there are occasional conflicts between the bright, sun-lit rooftop hero music, and the darker, shadowed, street-level music. Eventually, with new super powers well under foot, the final heroic version of the main theme emerges.

Not only is this piece about superhero fantasies, but for me, it is also about composer fantasies. Writing this piece allowed me to play in a film music-inspired sandbox that I might otherwise not get to do.

MARCH OF THE WEST RIVER is the third in a series of pieces called Imagined Adventures; short, programmatic works based on childhood fantasies. This piece suggests the timeless childhood game of “Army” as played by rambunctious pre-adolescents on the streets and backyards of a typical suburban neighborhood called “West River Estates.” Although it contains martial, march-like elements, they are filtered through the energy and innocence of kids.

Not only are these adventures about childhood fantasies, but for me, they are also about composer fantasies. Writing these pieces allows me to play in a film music-inspired sandbox I might otherwise not get to do.

SIMPLE SARABANDE almost functions as a rondo, but with gradually expanding statements. Woodwind soloists introduce fragments of a melodic idea as an introduction, followed by a slightly more complete first statement. The statement is interrupted by a short bridge, which is followed by an even more complete statement. This same pattern continues throughout the movement, as thematic statements and interruptions continue to expand in telescopic fashion. The result is a slow, somber work that builds in its intensity until it collapses under its own weight.

The content of this work stems from my Concerto for Saxophone Quartet, Winds, and Percussion, and has been refashioned for orchestra as a standalone piece.

SIMPLE SARABANDE almost functions as a rondo, but with gradually expanding statements. Woodwind soloists introduce fragments of a melodic idea as an introduction, followed by a slightly more complete first statement. The statement is interrupted by a short bridge, which is followed by an even more complete statement. This same pattern continues throughout the movement, as thematic statements and interruptions continue to expand in telescopic fashion. The result is a slow, somber work that builds in its intensity until it collapses under its own weight.

The content of this work stems from my Concerto for Saxophone Quartet, Winds, and Percussion, and has been refashioned for orchestra as a standalone piece.