The music of Don Gillis III; 21

If you are listening to music by Don give us. This is done. You're listening very heavy indeed to be sitting at this microphone in the School of the arts division of music Southern Methodist University in Dallas Texas talking to you about music by Don Gillis and why not be happy. I'm a rare bird actually because there are very few people in these United States who are lucky enough to have 30 minutes each week. In which to play one's own music and talk about one's own music and the way I get to and especially to have it brought to you through the facilities of the national educational radio network which in this case it sure is. So a lot of it isn't Thanksgiving. Let me take a moment to be thankful for this particular privilege. I would also be thankful for your fine cards and letters except you rarely

write them. Come to think of it I really don't know that anybody really listens to this program except the radio engineers whose job it is to play it for us each week on the air. I'm not really sure about them actually. Anyway now that we're all alone let me at least tell you about this week's show. We're going to hear two works one a very short piece for bassoon in Chamber Orchestra titled Brushy Creek and the other is a setting of words by Thomas Wolfe titled Thomas Wolfe American. Clyde McLean is the guest narrator in this tape recorded especially for performers on the series by Dr. James Christian full of the boulevard Music Center. Our concert begins now as we hear the final movement of my suite for solo woodwinds called four scenes from yesterday. Dr. George C. Wilson conducts the young musicians of the Iraq and Arts Academy orchestra in Brushy Creek.

You're.

The You're. The A. Luther. Oh. Yeah. The way. The women. Look. The music was brushy country dance for

harp and percussion played for us by the talented young musicians of the inner lock in our academy. Dr. George C. Wilson conducting next to music about these United States in a different way this time with words are not just words but words and a great American novelist Thomas Wolfe. Back in 1948 Johnson and conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra. Ask me to write a new piece for a new pc set about anything as long as it was about Thomas Wolfe. Well I re read Thomas Wolfe novels and was most impressed all over again with the continuing theme about the United States and compiling all references and sorting them into three general broad subject areas I put a script together for the distinguished actor Sam Messer to read with Dr. Thor Johnson and the park of Cincinnati for their premier performance. The music was written in five general sections three of which are narrated. Each of the narrative

sections beginning with Thomas Wolfe's and Something's will never change some things will always be the same. I mean down here upon the earth and listen to these three narrative sections are first the geographical and then the remembered land and find the meaning in this performance we're about to hear Dr. James question for conducts the reguard Symphony Orchestra with Clyde Maclean as narrator as music by Don give us presents. Thomas Wolfe American. Some things will never change.

Some things will always be the same. Lean down your ear upon the earth and listen. Goal seeker if you will throughout the land. There where the hackles of the Rocky Mountains blazed in the blank and naked radiance of the moon. Go make your resting upon the highest peak. Can you not

see us now. Behold the gems strong towns and cities of the good greenies. Flung like stardust. Through the field of night. That spreading constellation to the north is called Chicago. That giant of the blazes in the moanin is the pendant. That it is built on the. Sand. And dance as a clenched fist. Are all the cities of our eastern seaboard. And there's Boston ringed with the bracelet a little shining little towns. All the lights that sparkle on the rocky and then patients of new.

Southward. And a little to the west. Is our intense history. The splintered firmament of the towered island of Manhattan. Roundabout her soul is brain is like a litter of a hundred towns and cities southward and inland by a foot or two. Behold the duller glare of Philadelphia. Southward further still. The twin constellations Baltimore and Washington. Westward but still within the borders of the good greenies. That. Like time glow and smolder of hell fire is Pittsburgh. Here St. Louis. Hot and humid. In the corn field that lay of the land. Southward 600 miles or so. You'll see the crescent of old New Orleans. And here west and south again. The

GEM a glitter of the cities of the Texas morning. Turn now see when you're resting. Still atop the Rocky Mount. And look another thousand miles or so. Across my blazing fiend whirls of the Painted Desert. And the young Sierras raid. Aired to the west. Like us. Belt around the magic setting of its lovely harbor is the fabled town of San Francisco. Below it Los Angeles and all the cities of the California shore. Observe the whole. Survey and as you might survey a few. Make it your garden seeker or your backyard cat. Deity Zammit. It's your oyster. Yours to open if you will. Don't be frightened. Just make yourself. At home. Refresh yourself. Get the feel of things. It's your past year now. And it's not so

big. Only 3000 miles from east to west. Only 2000 miles from north to south. Yes go seeker if you will. Make your resting upon the highest peak. Of the hackles of the Rocky Mountains blaze in the blank naked radiance of the moon. And know that not alone through moon like magic can man find America. Somewhere. Their lives they see. Fierce with light savage with hunger indestructible and everlasting. For it is a fabulous country. The only fact the country it is the one place where miracles happen but where they happen all the time. Yes.

Some things will never change. Some things will always be the same. Lean down your rear upon the earth. And listen. These are the things we remember. Of America. It is a place

of exultant sea and strong joy. The place of the dark and brooding air. Of all the fierce. Colors of October. Where all the wild sweet Woods flame up. The hurrying of the leaves. The hard clean falling to the earth of acorns. It is the place of autumnal moon hung low at the frost the edges of the. Dry shocks of an enormous pumpkin on hard plastic near. The place of the wild in the morning. And the wind howling. It's the place of solitude. The branches of the spruce and hemlock filled with snow. Of the tragic. And lonely beauty of New England. These are the things we remember.

The place of the red barn. And the clothes. And the right. Here is a hole torn circus poster is. The place of the stir and feathery stumble of the hens upon their roast. The running sweep of the moon lighted countryside. It is the place of the immense and pungent smell of breakfast. The country sausages. And the ham and eggs the smoking wheat cakes and fragrant coffee. And the lone hunters in the frosty thickets. Who whistled to their lop eared. Now. It is the place where spring. And the young birch trees have white and tender barks. The homelier. And the burst of. Grass and. The wild and sudden tenderness of the wilderness. It is the place of baseball players and the easy lives. The soft spring smacking of the glove

and. The. Crack of the back. Of the great batters fielders and pitchers. The short sleeved man. The bleachers. The resin the smell of old worn. It is the place where they'd like to win always and boast about their victories. The place of. QUICK MONEY. And sudden loss. A young man cry out in their ropes and feel the savage vigor the rude strong energy. The place where trains cross rivers. A mile long freight. Of flares and steaming on the tracks. The swing and tottering lanterns on the yards. It is the place of the net lings and the sudden glare of mighty engines over sleeping places in the night. These are the things we remember. Where great boats are

being a Pearl Harbor. Where great ships are putting out to sea. And where the river. The. Sacred. River. Strange time. Is for ever growing by. The sea. Is the place of loneliness. And good fellowship. Of harshness. And tenderness. And crime. Of desolation and exultant hope. And of beauty so lovely and so overwhelming that the tongue is stopped by it. And the language for it. This is the place of the immense. Tears of corn and the abundance of wine rather. Than the good. And always. America is the place of death. And enraptured.

But smiled. On the word of. The door we never found it. Never. These are the things. We remember. Some things will never change. Some

things will always be the same. Lean down your ear upon the earth. And Venus. I think I speak for most men living. When I say that our America is here is no and back and so on before us. And that this glorious assurance is not only in our living but our dream to be accomplished. I think that the true discovery of America is before us. A true fulfillment of our spirit of our people of our mighty and immortal land is yet to come. And I think that all of these things are as certain as the morning. Inevitable as. Yes seeker go throughout the land.

Can you not see us now filled with an almost quenchless hope and almost boundless optimism. Fierce with a life savage with hunger and destructible and everlasting. Observe the whole of it. Get the feel of things. Don't be frightened. Just make yourself. At home. For America is the one place where miracles not only can happen but where they do. Happen. All the time. So then to every man. His troops. Do every man regardless of his birth. His shining golden opportunity. To every man the right to live to work. To be himself and to become what. There are things his manhood and his vision can combine to make you. This is the promise of America. You have been listening to Thomas Wolfe American with Clyde the plane appearing as guest speaker with

Dr. James Christian for in the reguard Symphony Orchestra and the state made especially for us on this program. This were commissioned by Dr. Thor Johnson for the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra had its world premiere in 1989 with the distinguished actor Sam Messer as narrator. Earlier we heard Brushy Creek from my Suite four scenes from yesterday played by the students of the interlocking arch Academy orchestra Dr George C. Wilson conducting next week there will be more music by Don Gillis as we return to bring you program number twenty two of the current series we will hear music for a band titled him song for Sunday three sketches for string orchestra. And then the man who invented music. Two weeks from now we'll have my seventh symphony work commissioned by Texas Christian University and the occasion of their 70th anniversary and on future programs we'll hear a new performance of my work art or trash can a portrait of a century played for us

by Lieutenant Colonel Arnold Gabriel in the United States Air Force Symphony Orchestra with Sergeant Gary Gleason as narrator. And so it goes week after week. Friends same old thing music by Don goes. But besides the music there will be some talk too so why not twist your radio dials around so they focus right on the FM station represents these programs. They'll appreciate having a listener and so will I and censor currently following my suggestions so nicely I'd like to suggest that you write to me telling me who you are. After all it isn't really too polite is it to be all tied up in this way when we haven't been properly introduced. Oh I have of course but you haven't. So before the price of stamps goes up again. Why don't you send me a note addressed to Don Gillis School of the arts division of music Southern Methodist University in Dallas Texas or if you can't remember all of that just say don't give us SMU Dallas Texas and your cards and letters will

be as we keep saying on the radio. Warmly received and now friends it is time to say farewell to that clock on the studio wall whose hands are waving so frantically for me to stop talking about anything else except to say that music by Don Gillis has brought you each week. At the national educational radio network and saw online in the thick of it. So from the campus of Southern Methodist University in Dallas Texas this is Don Gillis saying solo until next week. This program was distributed by national educational radio. This is

the national educational radio network.