Nicole Piunno

Since becoming a full-time composer in 2007, I have been fortunate to have had a steady stream of commissions
and projects, keeping me always on task and, luckily, in demand. Stemming from my days as a professional
trumpeter in the Naples (FL) Philharmonic, I have endeavored to be a “performer’s composer” – always
remaining sensitive to the needs of those who are on stage making the music happen.  Chicago Symphony
clarinetist John Yeh has playfully called me  “The Concerto King”, and I am happy to admit that my catalog
does include a concerto, and sonata, for nearly every symphonic instrument, with more being added every year.

A notable characteristic I try to infuse in my music is rhythmic momentum, as well as colorful scoring and
orchestration,  whether for instruments of the same timbre, or in mixed chamber settings.  For me, this is the
playground, and I absolutely love this part of the process.

I will always cherish and hold in high esteem the musical giants of the past, in addition to adding my own modern sensitivities, so as to try to give my music a blend of familiarity and new discovery all at once. With this, I hope to lead audiences and performers on a journey of both anticipation and reward.

~ Jim Stephenson

Old Salt Sonatina

Commissioned by Laura Bruton for her son, Nathan Little, in memory of her father, Henry.

Program Notes:

In the early summer of 2014, I was approached by Laura Bruton, principal violist of the Ft. Worth Symphony, with the idea of writing a work in memory of her father. Her father was a Navy veteran, and apparently, quite the character. Sadly, he had died from Alzheimer’s disease, but video proved that even as the disease progressed into late stages, he still never forgot “Anchors Aweigh”. To further enhance the personal quality of the project, the piece was to be written for Laura’s son, Nathan, who had become quite a high school standout on trumpet.

Almost all the works I compose have very personal relationships with those who have commissioned them. The difficulty is to create a work that has meaning to those directly involved with the collaboration, while maintaining a wide-arching flavor so that the work might live on. I think this can even enhance the meaning more, if a new work created in someone’s memory enters the repertoire, resulting in many performances.

With all of this in mind, I set the work into three movements.

The first movement explores the (assumed) frustration of Alzheimer’s.
I have never closely known anyone to be stricken with the disease, so my impressions are based purely on what I have heard. The music is not meant to make light of any of it, but does delve into some of the common characteristics: repetition, frustration, and intermittent glimpses of hope. The opening pattern – the basis for the entire movement – gets repeated many times, with some tense harmonies under-pining it, suggesting someone struggling to remember something important. There are some jazz harmonies thrown into the B section – as Henry was apparently a fan of jazz – but the music is still in an “angry” fashion, reminding us of the frustrating nature of the disease. Hidden into the chromatic “B” section is “Anchors Aweigh”, where the first accented note of each gesture spells out the main tune. The second movement is about remembrance. The main thematic material is again taken from “Anchors Aweigh”, now awash in lush jazz harmonies. The soloist plays echoes of the Naval Hymn “Eternal Father”. The third movement again deals with frustration – this time from family members as they come to grips with the passing with a loved one. However, frustration turns to joy, as the life of Henry begins to be celebrated. The entire movement is full of rhythmic and jazzy activity, and earlier themes, including “Anchors Aweigh”, return in a celebratory fashion.

The trumpet writing is challenging, but takes into account the exercises that might be common for a young trumpet player, such as scales, and other patterns that might work the fingers.

Jim Stephenson; December, 2014
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Silent Echoes
Commissioned by the following 65 micro-commissioners:

Mark Adler, Richard Ashmore, David Bailey, Rick Bogard, Amy Burmeister, Jerry Cerchia, Michael Chapple, Barbara Chickosky, Eric Davis, Matt “Doc” D’Errico, Willis Dotson, Bryan Edgett, Louie Eckhardt, Kevin Eisensmith, John Ellis, Jim Estes, Mark Flegg, Robert Frear, Kevin Gebo, Ryan Gilbert, Marcus Grant, Jason Grooms, Brittany Hendricks, Michael Hohnbaum, Michael Hull, Lawrence Johansen, David Koch, Will Koehler, Joseph Lill, Doug Lindsey, D. Scott Loose, Stephan Mattsen, Daniel Mendelow, Susan Sievert Messersmith, Jason Mirus, Joe Nibley, Kyle Norris, Merrill Perret, Thomas Ragozzino, Marc Reed, Jason Royal, Richard Rulli, Derek Sanchez, Terry Sawchuk, Judy Saxton, Charles Schlueter, Donald Scott, Pat Shaner, Cathy Sheridan, LeAnn Splitter, Adam Stachowiak, Andrew Stetson, Ron Stinson, Richard Stoelzel, Luke Swanson, Dario Tabales, Stephen Thiel, Mary Thornton, Michael Tiscione, Jacob Walburn, Steven Weisse, Glen Whitehead, Neville Young, Frank Zahn, Bruce Zeiger

Silent Echoes is a unique piece in many ways. First, it was created through a micro-funded commission. This is one of the reasons for the dedication reading “for many”. In the summer of 2013, I took a family trip to the Grand Canyon; the first time there for all of us. I suggested the idea to my friends in the trumpet world about writing a piece based on my travels, and many (listed below) signed on. Then, while hiking a trail at the North Rim, I spotted a fallen log with holes in it (see back cover), strategically placed so that they resembled notes on a staff. I solicited suggestions from Facebook friends as to what notes they thought were represented. All of those suggestions have been realized in this piece.

However, my impressions of the Grand Canyon were not at all what I thought they might be. Yes, I witnessed the vastness, the grandeur, the colors, and the stillness. But we can’t force our experience; our experience comes to us:

As I mentioned, I was there with family: my wife and myself, my parents, my in-laws, and 7 children (including four of my own and three of their friends/cousins). Given that many of the hikes were quite strenuous, there were many times when my wife and I were left alone with the responsibility of the seven children. Unfortunately, much of the hike was consumed with the fear of one of them slipping – with no chance for saving – and falling off the edge. This increased even more with the fact that it was all THEY could talk about. On top of that, my daughter showed me a book at THE GIFT STORE, called “Death at the Canyon”, which gave very grim and detailed accounts of every known fatality at the Grand Canyon over the last several decades. As a composer, my imagination is supposed to run wild, and this was no exception!

Silent Echoes, therefore, is in some way what might be expected: echoes, open “Americana” chords, and harmonies imbued with color. But it is also a prayerful tribute to those whose lives were lost in the blink of an eye, and how terrifying it must have been to have unanswerable calls for help echo through the walls around them. This is the other reason for the dedication: “for many”.

Listed below are the micro-commissioners who – at the time of this writing – committed to help fund the creation of this piece. I thank them for their trust in me to write something worth their time and expense.

Program notes by the composer. July 17, 2013

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