Beethoven’s influence dominated 19th-century music, but after the First World War many artists, feeling betrayed by their own civilizations, rejected the influence of those civilizations’ major artistic figures. Composers felt justified in turning away from Beethoven.

When the Cold War ended in 1989, that justification withered. For my part, I wanted to write some music that would allow me, in my own small way, in my little corner of the world, to welcome back the spirit of Beethoven. I wondered if I could devise a music that would blend Beethoven-like gestures with the American idioms that are my legacy.

In 1990 Barbara Harbach, who had recorded some of my keyboard music, asked me to write a major work she could perform with a flutist friend.

I decided to try to write a big, strapping, audacious, Beethovenian/American sonata for flute and piano.

Beethoven wrote no flute sonatas. But if he had, you can bet he would have given the flute an heroic role. The flute is often cast as the sensitive soul, consigned to the playing of lovely, pale gestures, in pastel tones of lavender and magenta.

I wanted to do something different. I wanted to make the flutist swim for her life. I assigned the flute bold gestures, bright colors and long phrases, requiring the big breaths we take before plunging into water.

Today I want to share the first movement of my flute sonata. The piano offers a gray, tenuous introduction, bleak and shifting, likes sliding chunks of ice. Patience! The piece is establishing its vocabulary: the musical ideas that follow are derived from combinations of the perfect fourths and minor seconds that are announced in this strange introduction. Then, the heroic flute makes her entrance; she is poised, strong and noble, an athletic princess, beautiful and confident. She takes a deep breath, dives and swims, gloriously.

The subtitle, “Icy Waters,” didn’t occur to me until I heard the piece performed by the superb pianist Phil Amalong and his sister Barb Sink. A fine flutist who is also a marathon runner, she has a bold stage presence and gets a big sound out of her instrument. While she played this music, there came into my mind the image of a swimmer braving icy waters, challenging herself, perhaps rescuing someone. What I feel when I hear this music is what I would feel if I plunged into cold water -- braced, refreshed, invigorated, intensely alive.

Few have heard this music. So far as I know it's had only four performances and those were for small audiences. As it has not been professionally recorded on a CD, I have no means of sharing it except by inviting people to listen to this mp3.

I have dozens of other scores of which the same is true and I am very eager to share them. Some of the pieces, like this one, can hardly be absorbed in a single hearing. It's often that way with music that is new to us. I hope you’ll listen more than once.

Are you ready to take the plunge and swim hard for thirteen minutes? Barb and Phil play heroically, like lifeguards in full swing. Fill your lungs, hold your breath and click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

Rick Sowash
Cincinnati, OH
August 3, 2014

🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶

Beethoven’s influence dominated 19th-century music, but after the First World War many artists, feeling betrayed by their own civilizations, rejected the influence of those civilizations’ major artistic figures. Composers felt justified in turning away from Beethoven.

For me, that justification withered when the Cold War ended. I suddenly felt at liberty to write music that would welcome the spirit of Beethoven. I wondered if I could devise a music that would blend Beethoven-like gestures with the American idioms that are my inheritance.

In 1990 Barbara Harbach, who had recorded some of my keyboard music, asked me to write a major work she could perform with a flutist friend.

I decided to try to write a big, strapping, audacious, Beethovenian/American sonata for flute and piano.

Beethoven wrote no flute sonatas. If he had, he would have given the flute an heroic role. The flute is not usually cast as a hero. Rather, she plays the sensitive soul, articulating lovely, pale gestures, aural pastels in lavender and magenta. All well and good.

None of that for me, thank you. I wanted to make the flutist swim for her life. I gave the flute bold gestures, bright primary colors and long phrases, requiring the same big gulps of breath we inhale before jumping into water.

Today I want to share the first movement of my flute sonata. The piano offers a gray, tenuous introduction, bleak and shifting, likes sliding chunks of ice. Patience! The piece is establishing its vocabulary: the musical ideas that follow are derived by combining the perfect fourths and minor seconds announced in this strange-sounding introduction. Then the heroic flute makes her entrance; she is poised, strong and noble, an athlete-princess, beautiful and confident. She takes a deep breath, dives and swims, gloriously.

The subtitle, “Icy Waters,” occurred to me when I heard the sonata performed by the superb flutist sister Barb Sink and her equally superb pianist brother, Phil Amalong. Barb, a marathon runner, mother of two, has a bold stage presence and draws a strong sound from her instrument.

Hearing Barb play this music, I thought of a swimmer braving icy waters, challenging herself, perhaps rescuing someone. What I feel when I hear this music is what I'd feel if I took a plunge into cold water -- braced, refreshed, invigorated.

You are among the few who have heard this music. So far as I know it's had only four performances and those were for small audiences. It has not been recorded professionally, nor released on a CD.

Are you ready to take the plunge and swim hard?

Whitman: “I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it in lacy jags.” This music sometimes bites and stings like icy waters.

Fill your lungs! One, Two, Ready! Jump! Click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶

Very few people have heard the music I want to share with you today. So far as I know it's had only four performances and those were for small audiences. As it has not been professionally recorded on a CD, I had no means of sharing this music until I began sending these Sunday morning musical emails to friends and fans.

In 1990 Barbara Harbach, who had recorded some of my keyboard music, asked me to write a major work she could perform with a flutist friend.

I decided to try to write a big, strapping, audacious two-movement sonata for flute and piano, subtitled “Icy Waters." Last week I shared the first movement with y’all; this week I want to share movement #2.

The flute is usually cast as a sensitive soul, a conveyor of gentle gestures. I wanted to make the flute do something different. I gave the flute bold gestures, bright colors and long phrases, requiring the big breaths we take before jumping into water.

The second movement is a headlong romp. The heroic flute enters almost immediately; she is poised, strong and noble, an Olympic diver. The music grows more and more active, the piano gallumphing along, with harp-like glissandi tossed in for good measure.

The music calms now and then when the flute is given lyrical passages that contrast with the more rambunctious parts. The music has the forward thrust of an Olympic swimmer, rollicking right on through to the … I want to say “finish line” but swimmers don’t have finish lines, do they? Well, then, let’s say: to the far end of the pool or the lake's opposite shore.

Futist Barb Sink and pianist Phil Amalong play their instruments like lifeguards springing into action. Are you ready to take the plunge? Fill your lungs, hold your breath and click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.