Uploaded March 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
Meditations on Ecclesiastes, for string orchestra (1958)
I. Introduction: Largo (To everything there is a season...and a time to every purpose under the heaven,)
II. Theme: Adagio con sentimento (A time to be born,)
III. Solenne (And a time to die;)
IV. Soave, e leggiero (A time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;)
V. Grave, con rividezza (A time to kill,)
VI. Larghetto, con leggerezza (And a time to heal;)
VII. Animato (A time to break down and a time to build up;)
VIII. Adagio, con intensità (A time to weep and to mourn,)
IX. Spumante (A time to dance and to laugh;)
X. Adagio liberamente (A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;)
XI. Con brio, molto deciso (A time of hate and of war,)
XII. Semplice: Adagio (A time to love and a time of peace.)
--Ecclesiastes III:1-8
Princeton Chamber Orchestra
Nicholas Harsanyi
Norman Dello Joio’s years of touring with his own jazz band have left a marked impression on his music, especially at the cadences. Meditations on Ecclesiastes is simply conceived: the opening premise, ‘‘To everything there is a season...”, gives rise to a theme, and each line beginning ‘‘A time to...” produces a variation on that theme. The moods of the lines are sharply opposed, giving Dello Joio’s highly descriptive score a good deal of vigorous and refreshing contrast. Meditations on Ecclesiastes was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in June of 1958. --Charles Briefer
Art by Walter Crane
Meditations on Ecclesiastes, for string orchestra (1958)
I. Introduction: Largo (To everything there is a season...and a time to every purpose under the heaven,)
II. Theme: Adagio con sentimento (A time to be born,)
III. Solenne (And a time to die;)
IV. Soave, e leggiero (A time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;)
V. Grave, con rividezza (A time to kill,)
VI. Larghetto, con leggerezza (And a time to heal;)
VII. Animato (A time to break down and a time to build up;)
VIII. Adagio, con intensità (A time to weep and to mourn,)
IX. Spumante (A time to dance and to laugh;)
X. Adagio liberamente (A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;)
XI. Con brio, molto deciso (A time of hate and of war,)
XII. Semplice: Adagio (A time to love and a time of peace.)
--Ecclesiastes III:1-8
Princeton Chamber Orchestra
Nicholas Harsanyi
Norman Dello Joio’s years of touring with his own jazz band have left a marked impression on his music, especially at the cadences. Meditations on Ecclesiastes is simply conceived: the opening premise, ‘‘To everything there is a season...”, gives rise to a theme, and each line beginning ‘‘A time to...” produces a variation on that theme. The moods of the lines are sharply opposed, giving Dello Joio’s highly descriptive score a good deal of vigorous and refreshing contrast. Meditations on Ecclesiastes was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in June of 1958. --Charles Briefer
Art by Walter Crane
![Toshirō Mayuzumi - Mandala Symphony
Mandala Symphony (1960)
I. Tempo non équilibré
II. Extrémement lent [6:18]
The NHK Symphony Orchestra
Hiroyuki Iwaki
Toshirō Mayuzumi was born in 1929. He has been a leader of avant-garde music in Japan since the end of World War II, but it was not until his Nehan Symphony, in 1957, that he brought his own style to perfection. His Mandala Symphony was completed in March, 1960, and first performed that month by the NHK Symphony Orchestra under Hiroyuki Iwaki.
In this work, as in the Nehan Symphony, Mayuzumi has tried to express his own Buddhist view of an omnipotent universe. The mandala is a Buddhist and Hindu mystic symbol of the universe, usually taking the form of a circular design of the faces of the deities of Kongokai-Mandala and Taizokai-Mandala, the unit being called Ryou-Mandala. Kongokai-Mandala symbolizes spiritual awakening through contemplation and a sense of oneness with eternity; Taizokai-Mandala represents the world of Sokushin Jyobutsu, which is made up of phases of life, such as Gakido (a place of hunger and thirst where sinners go in the afterlife) or Shurado (passage of pandemonium, the world of the immature until they attain spiritual awakening).
Like the mandala symbol, the symphony is in two parts. The composer has said of this work: I aimed to illustrate in sound the basic thought of Buddhism, just as painters have done on canvas. Since the object of my aim is so abstract, I have used only pure collections of sounds. [Stereo 32 160152]
Art: Mandala of Jnanadakini, Tibet, late 14th century Toshirō Mayuzumi - Mandala Symphony](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jFO6CJUvFNQ/mqdefault.jpg)
![Lukas Foss - Echoi
Echoi, for four soloists (1960-63)
1. Echoi I
2. Echoi II [3:50]
3. Echoi III [8:10]
4. Echoi IV [16:28]
Charles Wuorinen, piano
Raymond Desroches, percussion
Arthur Bloom, clarinet
Robert Martin, cello
Echoi is not serial in the accepted sense of the word. Series for pitches, durations, entrances, etc., serve to obtain a raw material, a scaffold which in the process of composition is gradually eliminated, destroyed. In composing in this manner one surrounds oneself with serially derived material, picks and chooses, and composes in a free, willful manner with these materials, these note groups, much in the way one used to compose with single notes. Or—to put it another way—the composer, after having obtained an abundance of serial material, composes not by adding but by deleting, erasing, arranging, choosing.
The title Echoi (echo in plural) has several connotations. Echoi were ancient Arabian modes; but it is obvious that the title is also reflected quite literally in the many echo sounds, imitations, instruments shadowing one another canonically, as in Echoi II, or echoes from the distance, as in Echoi III, where a children’s tune (vibraphone) is heard in the background (the past), then distorted, violated, in the foreground (the present), faintly emerging again in the distance (triangle beaters inside the piano strings à la mandoline), only to be annihilated, canceled out by the menacing activity in the foreground. Finally, echoes result from hearing double and triple at the end of Echoi IV. Here the clarinet and cello imitate their own performance as it emerges from two loudspeakers (two pre-recorded tape tracks). It could be argued here that the echoes do not follow, but precede, anticipate.
Throughout Echoi the four musicians play from the score. Where bar lines are absent, the rhythmic notation is proportional. They stay together by following the score and by listening to one another. Considering the high speed of Echoi I and the complex simultaneities of Echoi III and IV, a special skill is demanded here. Another dificult performance task occurs in Echoi IV when the players jump back and forth between different pages in the music (much like a phonograph needle on a defective record). This is done on cue from the percussionist, who strikes an anvil at random moments within a given stretch. This is the signal for the four players to skip from the moment of interruption to an earlier place in the music (idée fixe) and back, invalidating the carefully organized macro-structure. From the start of the obsessional piano monologue to the moment (climax) when the percussion resorts to what is a literal invasion of the piano strings (the only way to bring the piano to a stop), Echoi IV is a commentary on total organization, with the piano acting as protagonist. Though the aleatoric notion and even the musical happening are easily detected here, no share of the composition per se is ever relinquished to the performer—or to chance. Even the improvisatory moments toward the end are limited, directed, texturally controlled via footnotes or invented symbols.
Echoi was commissioned by the Fromm Music Foundation. [Monaural / LC3886]
Art by Eglė Ridikaitė Lukas Foss - Echoi](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jNat3GQ8qpc/mqdefault.jpg)
![Harold Shapero - Sonata for Piano in D
Sonata for Piano in D (1943)
Frank Glazer, piano
Harol Shapero’s Sonata for Piano in D was completed in 1943, and was first performed by the composer at concerts of the League of Composers in New York City. It has since been played throughout Europe and Asia by several pianists, in arrangements for both piano and harpsichord. Frank Glazer has performed it often in his American and European concert tours.
Mr. Shapero has kindly provided the following analysis: “The Sonata is clearly in a style which has been often called ‘international neo-classic’, and takes its inspiration from the keyboard music of Scarlatti, K.P.E. Bach, and Haydn. Integrated with these traditional elements are familiar twentieth-century materials and some slight references to jazz. A formal analysis of the Sonata runs as follows:
Allegro precisco — sonata allegro in D
Poco adagio — five-part song form in G
Minuetto — three-part ABA Minuet-Scherzo in B-flat minor
Presto — seven-part rondo in D.” [CS-217]
Art by Emma Kohlmann Harold Shapero - Sonata for Piano in D](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/kMyUA10f_yo/mqdefault.jpg)


![John La Montaine - Concerto for Piano and Orchestra
Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, Op. 9 (1958)
I. Moderately Fast — Decisive
II. Elegy: Andante [10:02]
III. Finale [18:21]
Karen Keys, piano
Oklahoma City Symphony Orchestra
Guy Fraser Harrison
John La Montaine, though known among his professional colleagues for a decade as a highly gifted pianist, came into national prominence as a composer only in 1958, when the Piano Concerto recorded here received its world premiere on November 25 of that year with Jorge Bolet as soloist and the National Symphony conducted by Howard Mitchell. The music had been commissioned by the National Symphony Orchestra under a grant from the Ford Foundation, and in 1959 the score was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Music. This CRI recording was done under the terms of a 1962 award to Mr. La Montaine from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
The reasons for the deep impression made by the Concerto on both lay listeners and on critics and professionals is not hard to discover; for in common with his senior colleague, Samuel Barber, La Montaine has displayed in his music a flair for intensely dramatic lyrical utterance in combination with virtuosic effectiveness in the best sense of the word that makes for surefire listener impact. For a contemporary composer to accomplish such a feat in a large-scale piece, sticking within a relatively traditional frame-work, and avoiding the slightest taint of the meretricious is a feat of no mean order, and one attainable only by a composer whose stylistic persuasions are backed by a solidity of craftsmanship that has become second nature. In this connection, it is sufficient to mention that Mr. La Montaine’s training, after studies in Chicago, was received from such august institutions as the Eastman School of Music and the Juilliard School, as well as from Nadia Boulanger.
Regarding the musical form and content of Mr. La Montaine’s Piano Concerto, the publisher has supplied a succinct and valid summation: The Concerto affirms both the lyric and virtuoso capabilities of the piano. The first movement is bold and decisive, classic in form, romantic in content. The second movement is slow and introspective, rising to an overwhelming climax. It is an elegy in memory of the composer’s sister, Isabel La Montaine. The Finale, in quadruple meter, is brilliant, rhythmic and march-like, interrupted twice by an extended songful passage of great intensity in triple meter. All the thematic and passage material of the final movement is derived from the opening of the first movement. [CRI SD189]
Art by Xenia Hausner John La Montaine - Concerto for Piano and Orchestra](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/m_XDC2b1624/mqdefault.jpg)

![Yoshihisa Taïra - Synchrony / Synchronie
Synchrony / Synchronie (1986)
Pierre-Yves Artaud, flute
Yoshikazu Iwamoto, shakuhachi
I originally wrote this work for two flutes. In this new version for flute and shakuhachi (a traditional Japanese flute) I tried to use two instruments belonging to two different cultures. A kind of dialogue was thus created between Japan and the West. Yoshihisa Taïra
This should not be seen as a mere chance encounter and the deep bonds of friendship that united us for almost forty years. More profoundly, this frail instrument [the flute], brought to life by human breath, was perhaps, unbeknownst to him, the best vehicle for his inner song, for that prayer that made him who he was. Pierre-Yves Artaud
Art by Tomioka Tessai Yoshihisa Taïra - Synchrony / Synchronie](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/n55zx9EhG_A/mqdefault.jpg)


![Ernst Toch - Concerto for Cello and Chamber Orchestra
Concerto for Cello and Chamber Orchestra, Op. 35 (1925)
I. Allegro assai moderato
II. Agitato [10:30]
III. Adagio [13:58]
IV. Allegro vivace [21:29]
Frédéric Mottier, cello
The Forum Group
Fred Barth
The Cello Concerto was written for a competition sponsored by Schott Publishing Company. Toch composed it quickly, between October and November 1924, in good time for the competition in 1925 (he’d already won the 1924 competition with his Divertimento for Violin and cello). Dedicated to the cellist Maurits Frank it was premiered by Emanuel Feuermann in July 1925 and so popular was it that the cellist performed it about sixty times in Germany in the next eight years, with conductors such as Klemperer in Berlin and Monteux in Amsterdam. Scored for a chamber orchestra it features the soloist in a primus inter pares role in a work that is a microcosm of contemporary compositional technique. Metres are constantly changing and there is a weight of complex rhythmic difficulty. Whilst the four movements are very broadly classical in design this is no neo-classical jeux d’esprit. Instead it’s a tough, densely argued work the opening movement of which sets the scene for much that is to follow; quixotic harmonies and instrumentation; a novel role for the protagonist, a perplexing air of indistinctness until a solo horn announces a new direction and the movement ends in the cello taking up a romanticized theme. The rather galumphing scherzo (Sorcerer’s Apprentice meets Stravinsky) has a second subject announced by the horn in bold fashion encouraging a scurrying cello until, abruptly, the music seems to end in mid-air. The cello by contrast spins a long cantilena line in the Adagio, laden with an expressive depth that signals that this is the central point of the work and its heart beat. In the finale, which again broadly conforms to the classical formula, a stern figure threatens to turn into a fugato before first ominous percussion and ostinato strings drive the argument still further, embracing a crookedly humorous passage and decisive conclusion. Jonathan Woolf
Art by Þorlákur Kristinsson Ernst Toch - Concerto for Cello and Chamber Orchestra](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/nlJhK9opyCg/mqdefault.jpg)