Uploaded April 2023 | Updated September 2026, 2 hours ago
Frederic Rzewski - A Long Time Man, for Piano & Orchestra (1979)
Fredric Rzewski (piano)
American Composers' Orchestra
Paul Lustig Dunkel (conductor)
Live performance, Carnegie Hall, New York City, 2nd November 1997
Note: In 1996, Rzewski re-worked this piece for piano solo as the fifth of his North American Ballads (2006).
Programme Note:
"A Long Time Man, for orchestra with piano, was written in the fall of 1979 as a commission for the New Hampshire Symphony, and was first performed by that orchestra in the spring of the following year under the direction of James Bolle, with the composer as soloist. The piece is a series of twenty-four variations on a work song from Texas prisons ['It Makes a Long Time Man Feel Bad'], with a "cadenza for orchestra" inserted between variations 15 and 16. The cadenza, which is subtitled "Chain Gang", can also function as an independent piece for any number of players.
The theme is stated by the solo trombone, the song of the "long time man" (a prisoner serving a life term). The first nine variations, written in a kind of poly- or trans-tonal style similar to that of the North American Ballads for solo piano, develop the theme in a dialog between piano and orchestra, a fast-changing collage of bits and snatches of the tune which appear and disappear, in different keys and at different speeds. In Variation 10 a new, slow time suddenly sets in, lasting through Variation 15. In this section time seems almost to stop. The sudden "whump" of heavy objects dropped on the floor by several musicians at once, starts the "Chain Gang" sequence, a cadenza in which the orchestra improvises on a series of two-note rhythmic patterns, while the soloist improvises freely. The "whump," which continues throughout the cadenza, simulates the sound of several axes, or sledgehammers, coming down together in the cadence typical of work gangs. At the end of the cadenza the orchestra comes together on a single figure repeated several times, then passes immediately to Variation 16, which takes up the thematic material again in a manner similar to the beginning: a beginning that now seems to have happened a long time ago. Variation 17 evokes the slow time of Variations 10 to 15. Variation 18 is a written-out cadenza for solo piano. In Variations 19 through 24 time slows down again and comes to a stop. Accompanied by the sound of chains on the skins of the kettledrums, the theme is played softly in many different keys at once, fades away. The oboe plays the first two notes of the tune, and the music is over.
Why did I write this piece? I've always had ambivalent feelings toward the symphony orchestra, with its rows of string-infantry, woodwind cavalry, and brass artillery. Beethoven's symphonies seem to me like musical descriptions of Napoleonic campaigns, best understood by reading Clausewitz. I like Chopin and Schumann because they dealt awkwardly with the form. I don't like the orchestra's social organization, the oppressive work conditions, and the subservience of many individual gifted artists to a commanding, often non-musical authority. At the same time the thing is there, it exists, and for the purpose of creating beautiful music, which is something it certainly can do. This piece is an attempt, perhaps only half-successful, to express the life of the orchestra in its contradictoriness."
(Fredric Rzewski, September, 1987)
"The work opens with the prison song intoned by trombone. The tune becomes the basis for 24 variations of dizzying stylistic breadth: tonal and atonal, Serial and Romantic, even jazz-inflected. In the ''Chain-Gang'' section, announced by crashes of heavy metal, the orchestra engages in collective improvisation. ''The orchestra seems an anachronism,'' Mr. Rzewski said. ''The social hierarchy is that of Napoleonic France, with its string infantry, woodwind cavalry and brass artillery. I don't like the subservience of individual, gifted artists to a commanding, often nonmusical authority. This is not a social scene I enjoy working in, and so I'm not inclined to write pieces that encourage it.''"
(K. Robert Schwarz, New York Times, Oct. 26, 1997)
(Recording taken from: archive.org/details/cd_live-in-hall-recordings-vol-76_robert-didomenica-frederic-rzewski-vincent/disc1/02.+Frederic+Rzewski+-+A+Long+Time+Man%2C+for+Piano+%26+Orch..flac)
Frederic Rzewski - A Long Time Man, for Piano & Orchestra (1979)
Fredric Rzewski (piano)
American Composers' Orchestra
Paul Lustig Dunkel (conductor)
Live performance, Carnegie Hall, New York City, 2nd November 1997
Note: In 1996, Rzewski re-worked this piece for piano solo as the fifth of his North American Ballads (2006).
Programme Note:
"A Long Time Man, for orchestra with piano, was written in the fall of 1979 as a commission for the New Hampshire Symphony, and was first performed by that orchestra in the spring of the following year under the direction of James Bolle, with the composer as soloist. The piece is a series of twenty-four variations on a work song from Texas prisons ['It Makes a Long Time Man Feel Bad'], with a "cadenza for orchestra" inserted between variations 15 and 16. The cadenza, which is subtitled "Chain Gang", can also function as an independent piece for any number of players.
The theme is stated by the solo trombone, the song of the "long time man" (a prisoner serving a life term). The first nine variations, written in a kind of poly- or trans-tonal style similar to that of the North American Ballads for solo piano, develop the theme in a dialog between piano and orchestra, a fast-changing collage of bits and snatches of the tune which appear and disappear, in different keys and at different speeds. In Variation 10 a new, slow time suddenly sets in, lasting through Variation 15. In this section time seems almost to stop. The sudden "whump" of heavy objects dropped on the floor by several musicians at once, starts the "Chain Gang" sequence, a cadenza in which the orchestra improvises on a series of two-note rhythmic patterns, while the soloist improvises freely. The "whump," which continues throughout the cadenza, simulates the sound of several axes, or sledgehammers, coming down together in the cadence typical of work gangs. At the end of the cadenza the orchestra comes together on a single figure repeated several times, then passes immediately to Variation 16, which takes up the thematic material again in a manner similar to the beginning: a beginning that now seems to have happened a long time ago. Variation 17 evokes the slow time of Variations 10 to 15. Variation 18 is a written-out cadenza for solo piano. In Variations 19 through 24 time slows down again and comes to a stop. Accompanied by the sound of chains on the skins of the kettledrums, the theme is played softly in many different keys at once, fades away. The oboe plays the first two notes of the tune, and the music is over.
Why did I write this piece? I've always had ambivalent feelings toward the symphony orchestra, with its rows of string-infantry, woodwind cavalry, and brass artillery. Beethoven's symphonies seem to me like musical descriptions of Napoleonic campaigns, best understood by reading Clausewitz. I like Chopin and Schumann because they dealt awkwardly with the form. I don't like the orchestra's social organization, the oppressive work conditions, and the subservience of many individual gifted artists to a commanding, often non-musical authority. At the same time the thing is there, it exists, and for the purpose of creating beautiful music, which is something it certainly can do. This piece is an attempt, perhaps only half-successful, to express the life of the orchestra in its contradictoriness."
(Fredric Rzewski, September, 1987)
"The work opens with the prison song intoned by trombone. The tune becomes the basis for 24 variations of dizzying stylistic breadth: tonal and atonal, Serial and Romantic, even jazz-inflected. In the ''Chain-Gang'' section, announced by crashes of heavy metal, the orchestra engages in collective improvisation. ''The orchestra seems an anachronism,'' Mr. Rzewski said. ''The social hierarchy is that of Napoleonic France, with its string infantry, woodwind cavalry and brass artillery. I don't like the subservience of individual, gifted artists to a commanding, often nonmusical authority. This is not a social scene I enjoy working in, and so I'm not inclined to write pieces that encourage it.''"
(K. Robert Schwarz, New York Times, Oct. 26, 1997)
(Recording taken from: archive.org/details/cd_live-in-hall-recordings-vol-76_robert-didomenica-frederic-rzewski-vincent/disc1/02.+Frederic+Rzewski+-+A+Long+Time+Man%2C+for+Piano+%26+Orch..flac)





![Grachan Moncur III - The Intellect
Grachan Moncur, III—‘The Intellect’
Grachan Moncur, III: trombone
Bobby Hutcherson: vibraphone
Cecil McBee: bass
Beavre Harris: drums (Credited as ‘Bill Harris’)
Performance recorded live at The Village Gate, New York City on March 28, 1965 at a benefit concert for the newly-founded Black Arts Repertory Theatre/School (BART/S), held at the Village Gate under the title ‘New Black Music’, on Sunday Mar 28th 1965. The concert featured performances by the groups of John Coltrane, Albert Ayler, Archie Shepp, and Charles Tolliver. One track per group was included on the original Impulse! Records release, titled ‘The New Wave in Jazz’, with the exception of performances by Sun Ra and Betty Carter. (It’s unclear if Cecil Taylor performed as advertised.) Written by Moncur, ‘The Intellect’ was first released on the Impulse double LP ‘The New Breed: The Dedication Series Vol. VIII: ecil Taylor/Charles Tolliver/Grachan Moncur/Archie Shepp’ (1978), and then included as a bonus track on the 1994 CD reissue, now itself out of print. It represents a significant extension of Moncur’s recorded work, in the wake of his ground-breaking collaborations with Jackie McLean and his own recordings as a leader, ‘Evolution’ and ‘Some Other Stuff’ (the latter of which was developed while Moncur was working in the premiere production of James Baldwin’s play ‘Blues for Mister Charlie’). To my knowledge, no other recordings of this and the other piece performed on the night, ‘Blue Free’, exist; as such, the combined tracks, recorded in impeccable sound, represent almost a lost album. We might see it as representing the ultimate stage of the ‘introverted’ tendency in Moncur’s playing represented, say, by the piece ‘Gnostic’ on ‘Some Other Stuff’: a hidden knowledge found deep inside the self through a press of isolation and contemplation, a defensive retreat into the self that is also a social affirmation of what it takes to survive in tight spaces and what expansive resources can be found there. (Moncur would soon go on to play with Archie Shepp, to co-found the 360 Degree Music Experience with Dave Burrell and Beaver Harris, and to record ‘New Africa’ on BYG records in 1969.)
*Please support musicians like Grachan Moncur III by buying their in-print albums.*
From the original liner notes:
“Grachan Moncur represents, along with Charles Tolliver’s group, the cool aspect of the new generation. The post-milesian cool. The vibist, Bobby Hutcherson, makes this stance thoughtful and challenging, as does, say, a drummer like Tony Williams or bassist Cecil McBee, who can stretch out even further.
These musicians change what is given and hopefully understood. What the normal feeling of adventure is. You think hard-bop to cool soft bop. But there is a persistent will to be original that sheds these labels effortlessly. These are men [...] who show you the music is changing before yr very ears.” (Amiri Baraka)
“[...] The lands of Dada-Surreal a la Harlem, South Philly and dark Georgia nights after sundown, night-time Mau Mau attacks, shadowy figures out of flying saucers and music of the spheres [...] This music, even though it speaks of horrible and frightening things, speaks at the same time so perfectly about the heart and to the heart. This music, at the same time it contains pain and anger and hope, contains a vision of a better world yet beyond the present and is some of the most beautiful ever to come out of men’s soul or out of that form of expression called Jazz.”
(Steve Young (Music-Art Co-ordinator at BART/S)) Grachan Moncur III - The Intellect](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/gt35ob7E_CU/mqdefault.jpg)



![Alan Bush - Relinquishment (1928)
Alan Bush - Relinquishment, Op. 11 (1928)
Alan Bush (piano)
BBC radio broadcast
“The tonality of the piece is A flat mixolydian. The first section is in three-part counterpoint; the lower voice parts introduce notes which contradict the modal basis of the melody. The harmonic idiom is that of West European twentieth century style, but quite free from Schoenbergs repetitive use of thematic material. The middle section is built up from rapid and contrasting rhythmic figures, developed almost exclusively from seconds and fourths. In the coda section a recapitulation of the opening appears above a tonic pedal.
The title is derived from the feeling expressed of deep regret that a particular course of action had to be consciously abandoned.” (Alan Bush)
“Bush started to engage with aspects of modern music from Continental Europe in the late 1920s. [...] this very period was significant for Bush both musically and politically. The year 1928 – in which he composed Relinquishment – was when Bush moved to Berlin and began experiencing what [Luigi] Nono called ‘the historical, cultural and political importance of Berlin in the years before 1933’.
Having already begun working with the LLCU (London Labour Choral Union) in 1926, alongside his fellow English communist composer Rutland Boughton, Bush sought out both radical music and radical politics in Berlin. He attended both the Berlin premiere of Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex in 1928 and a performance of Brecht and Eisler’s masterpiece of political theatre Die Massnahme. As his fellow student in philosophy, Egbert Hildebrandt, would later attest, such outings ‘were always the occasion of serious discussions on fundamental artistic and aesthetic questions and on problems of world outlook, over which we struggled to come to a clear understanding’. Nor was there an abrupt division of music and politics in Bush’s [...] Radical politics did not supplant modernism for Bush; rather, he discovered them at the same time within a cultural discourse with which modern music and politics were constantly associated.”
(Joanna Bullivant, Alan Bush, Modern Music, and the Cold War: The Cultural Left in Britain and the Communist Bloc) Alan Bush - Relinquishment (1928)](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ilNzBlUUDFI/mqdefault.jpg)
