CD 1 1. Avatar (2003) for large orchestra Frankfurt Radio Symphony Hugh Wolff, conductor 2. At the Still Point of the Turning World, There the Dance Is (2002) Network for New Music Ensemble Jan Kryzwicki, conductor 3. Chorale for Nanine, with Birds (Hommage à Messiaen) (2015) Marcantonio Barone, piano 4. Now Your Colors Sing (2011) for double string orchestra Orchestra 2001 James Freeman, conductor 5. Musiques nocturnes (Hommage à Bartók) (1981) Marcantonio Barone, piano CD 2 1. Ringing Changes (2015) for two pianos Marcantonio Barone and Charles Abramovic, pianos 2. Anāhata (Symphony No. 1) (1984-86) for large orchestra American Composers Orchestra Hugh Wolff, conductor 3. Crickets (2009) for piano and string quartet Marcantonio Barone, piano; Orchestra 2001 Quartet 4. Au Coeur de l’infini (2012, rev. 2016) for organ Olivier Latry, great organ of Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris 5 – 9. in dark (three poems of the night) (1972) for soprano and ensemble texts by Robert Lax and Nanine Valen 5. I Adagio (vocalise) 3:20 6. II Andante (the moon comes down) 2:35 7. III Scherzando (in dark) 2:57 8. IV Lento (they moved like fish) 2:58 9. V Liberamente (vocalise) 3:51 Carmen Pelton, soprano; Orchestra 2001 James Freeman, conductor The works on this double album have been organized to form a kind of ideal program, widening and narrowing as it traces a path through big, outgoing pieces and others on a smaller scale. While most of the music comes from after the turn of the millennium, the selection goes back to what Levinson has called his “opus 1,” here placed right at the end, as a kind of memorandum of ground covered. This is where, though, deviating from the recorded order, we must begin if we want to explore Levinson’s progress, and his stability, through a period of more than forty years. To start at this point is specially meaningful because in dark (1972), besides being a work of astonishing assurance for a composer aged twenty, is full of promise that will be abundantly and variously fulfilled in years to come. In his own note, Levinson frankly admits the influences of George Crumb, with whom he had recently been studying, and Olivier Messiaen, a teacher still at this point in his future. Crumb is perhaps there in the striking crepuscular imagery, which Levinson obtains by means of an unusual combination of middle-to-low flutes and strings with harp, piano, and percussion. Messiaen we might feel we encounter right away, in the percussive clang with which the music begins (harp doubling the flutes and strings, with a ping of crotales in the upper octave) and the cadence that is also an alert: a pair of chords derived from a melisma in the French composer's Poèmes pour Mi but already going its own way, an entry point into an individual harmonic language maintained consistently through the piece, besides being an initiation that will, as the work proceeds, be recalled in ways at once subtle and direct (for instance, in the chords of quiet string harmonics when the soprano sings “but once a month,” and again at the end). It is a harmonic language – of modes, whether symmetrical like Messiaen's, or, in due course, derived from Indonesian, Indian, or Arab traditions, or freely invented – that will be developed far beyond the limits of this particular work. Another signal to the future comes in the choice of words. The poetry of Robert Lax (1915-2000), simultaneously immediate and strange, rooted in the real while gazing at far distant horizons, suggesting the compacted verse of Japan and China but also that of U. S. popular song, provides Levinson with a close match for his music. In this case, the two Lax poems were sent on postcards to a younger poet, Nanine Valen (Levinson’s future wife), who responded with one of her own. Levinson was to come back to both poets, though it is curious, especially given the supple effectiveness of the vocal writing here, that song was to be a rare genre in his output – perhaps because dance became so much his métier. Yet another Levinsonian feature fully formed in this piece is the resonant and alacritous use of the piano, closely associated with harp and percussion. Unlike the voice, the piano was to remain prominent in Levinson’s music, and it is a piano piece that comes next chronologically in this collection: Musiques nocturnes, composed in 1981 as a centenary homage to Bartók and modeled on the similarly titled movement from the latter’s suite Out of Doors. As in that movement, the music is in distinct layers: human, one might think, in the middle register, where a Hungarian folk song is forming itself (“Tiszán innen,” collected by Bartók and used by Kodály in Háry János), animal at the outer edges. Shortly before writing this piano piece, and again shortly after, Levinson paid two long visits to Bali, of a year and then half a year – homecoming visits, in a sense, to an island of resonant percussion orchestras, of pulse-driven modal engineering on layers of different speed, of sudden startlement, of dance, and of music in which the individual is subsumed in the collective and caught up in the divine. He became, in the words of Messiaen, “A Europeanized American who had the luck to live in Bali,” one open to a whole range of human heritages in a spirit of exuberant communality. One of Levinson’s most powerfully positive works – indeed, one of the most powerfully positive works to have been produced by anyone in a decade of uncertainty – came in the wake of his second trip to Bali: Anāhata (1984-6), subtitled “Symphony No. 1,” and properly symphonic in its scale and energy, though not, of course, in anything like the form that came out of, and depended on, orthodox western tonality. (The composer notes that “it does nevertheless allude to some fundamental symphonic ‘types’: an introduction, a slow movement, a dynamic multi-part allegro, a scherzo-development leading to an amplified return of the opening, and a coda distilling much of the preceding.”) Levinson by now, following his Balinese experiences and his studies of Indian music, was thoroughly involved with scales of other kinds – and, indeed, with time of another kind, intensely pulsed, aiming not only toward some distant harmonic goal (in which respect Levinson’s music remains thoroughly western in its definition and purpose) but also at the more immediate jump-cut that will take it, very often, from one state of jubilation into another or, on occasion, allow it to enter a region of suspended time. The dialectic of western and eastern approaches to harmony, rhythm, and time may even be the engine of the work’s symphonism. When, from the pealing start, development leads to conflict and eventually crisis, resolution arrives for the moment with a majestic procession led by chiming instruments. While evoking the commonest five-note scale of Balinese music, this is in an unstable mode that also realizes other of the work's premises, in ragas and western harmonic ambiguities. Perhaps for that reason, the arrival is only momentary, engendering further tension that will be released into the longest passage of slow music. There is the same productive combination of allegiances on the level of sound. Bell-like sonorities, whether coming from a percussion department typically rich in tuned metal or evoked by wide harmonies, find Levinson moving in parallel with his spectralist contemporaries (Claude Vivier in particular, though neither composer knew of the other) while in the same instants walking Bali. The title is a Sanskrit term that, meaning “unstruck,” connotes what is immanent in the universe but not yet perceived by human beings – except through meditation and, indeed music. It is in the slower passages, where several instrumental lines may be wandering free of any beat, that we may, Levinson suggests, feel ourselves to be meeting this raw potentiality, which music supremely can convey: the “unstruck” in a harmonic identity (a matter not only of chords but also of their relationships, as supported by some mode or system of modes) that is not overtly presented and yet is present all the time in what vitally resounds. As much as such senior figures as György Ligeti, Karlheinz Stockhausen, and Pierre Boulez, Levinson was acutely aware at this juncture of the value of melody that, conforming with some modal scale, would thereby gain character and memorability but remain completely separate from regular western tonality. Indeed, that – along with the sense of music as having purposes beyond the aesthetic – may well be essential to his attachment to Asian musical traditions. As he put it in his program note for the first performance of Anãhata, given under Hugh Wolff, this first symphony specifically is based on three melodic ideas: “the rather wild melismatic woodwind monody heard at the very beginning; the slow, lamenting song first played by the English horn, inspired by a North Indian raga (which I first heard in devotional songs during a ‘sacred concert’ at a temple in Kathmandu); and string melodies (often played over massive wind chorales) that are transformations of the ornamental figures in the woodwind melody and of a high-flying solo violin line from the solo quartet music near the beginning.” Here we make our own jump-cut, passing over the major orchestral scores of the 1990s – Levinson's Second Symphony, Five Fires, and Sea Changes – and such other works of this period as Dreamlight for cello, piano, and percussion and the piano concerto Time and the Bell…, both recorded elsewhere. At the Still Point of the Turning World, There the Dance is (2002), scored for a mixed nine-piece ensemble, brings us to earth – or to sky – again with a now familiar architecture of activity and stasis, each formed by and informing the other, in keeping with the paradoxes locked into the lines from Eliot’s Four Quartets the composer condenses into his title: At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is, But where, the work seems to ask, is this dance? It appears, at the start, to be resident in the lusty rhythm that keeps breaking off to let resonances or sustained chords shine through. However, it is not lost then but rather transformed in the larger episodes of calm that intervene, these based on a new commingling of east and west in quoting North Indian ragas and creating chains of chords from their scales. The first such passage unfolds over a low D; the second is a marvelous C-scape with soprano saxophone and other creatures. Then, when a long and unstoppable slow melody emerges, it is greeted by fragments from the rhythmic dance, now decelerated, as if their power has passed into this new thing they have come to welcome, this melody that is, perhaps, the dance in stillness. Its arrival eventually at D, again, is a reminder of how Levinson’s music, in all its multicolored modality, maintains a western sense of, as one might put it, orientation. Just as the dance both spins and is still, so it flickers characteristically with reflections from both far and near – and does so also in its sound. Levinson chooses an ensemble that includes, of course, his chiming, glinting metal percussion, along with a guitar that strongly colors the overall sound, reeds and string bass, these bringing with them a robust jazz energy. This is indeed a turning world, turning so fast the maps overlap. Levinson’s next work was again for the large orchestra of Anāhata, again massively continuous through diverse states, and again involved with Indian cosmology: Avatar (2003). There is even the same reference to the “unstruck,” for a traditional avatar (the word is of Sanskrit origin) is an embodiment of an unseen divine principle. However, the emphasis here is on the embodiment, on music as avatar of the eternal unheard. Avatar jumps down mightily into existence as a multiform character presenting itself under five different aspects for its five instrumental families: initiating strokes from high-pitched wood and metal percussion, bell chords for keyed instruments (or other), loud swirl-rushes in 32nd-notes from the strings, decorated chants from the woodwinds, and chorales held sure by the brass. These ideas will echo through much that follows, but so will the long, slower melody that joins them from low reeds, its first phrase spelling out the name of the new music director of the commissioning orchestra, the Philadelphia: “C. Eschenbach.” Though this provides a highly chromatic set of notes (six within a fifth: A–B –B–C–E –E), Levinson uses wide intervals, as well as a bass register and steady tempo, to provide a shapely contour. The theme reappears quite otherwise as the violin solo, marked “rough, angular,” that comes soon after the beautiful solo for cello (doubled by English horn) over divided strings. It also underlies the string adagio toward the finale, where the avatar eventually vanishes in a haze of radiant delicacy. If, in a sense, Avatar is a sibling to Anāhata, one crucial difference, already found in At the Still Point, is that allusions to other musics have been pushed to the edges as the composer in full maturity comes into his own. One might have expected further orchestral works to follow rapidly, but though the Philadelphia came to him soon after for a piece for organ and orchestra (Toward Light, 2006), his next big symphonic work was to remain for the moment unstruck. Perhaps the whole of Levinson’s output was by this point taking the shape of one of his compositions, moving now through a phase of relative stillness, as represented by pieces for small forces. Fully apparent in this phase is the openness to animal sounds foreshadowed long ago in Musiques nocturnes, the piano quintet Crickets (2009) being explicitly a case in point. This short piece alludes, in the composer’s words, to “the overlapping Morse-code-like rhythms of late-summer crickets,” heard in string harmonics within a field of staccato intervention, song, and canon in which the violins tug against the viola and cello – a field that is, to quote the composer again, “colored by a mode in an enhanced C major, eventually arriving at a musical inscription in which the piano spells out the name of the dedicatee (conductor-pianist James Freeman) in bell-harmonics.” It is the same field, but pulling out to gain a panoramic view, into which we are invited by Now Your Colors Sing for double string orchestra (2011), where some of the same figures appear, including the crickets again (toward the halfway point and again in the closing passage). Added to these is the call of the golden oriole as rendered by Messiaen, a pertinent choice for two reasons. In the first place, Levinson composed the piece as a double tribute to Messiaen and his wife, Yvonne Loriod, who had departed the year before. Since her name had the same sound as that of the bird in French (loriot), this was the call the couple would whistle to one another. But also, the oriole call is the site of an overlap between Messiaen’s world and Levinson’s. For Messiaen, it is a modal affirmation and, in being so, a signal of jubilation. Levinson’s music can also be affirmative and jubilant, but from within a context more uncertain. Even where the quotation is most direct, at the beginning, it is displaced, divided between violins that, placed offstage on opposite sides, give the effect of a wide natural acoustic into which the music will come. And that music remains antiphonal, of course, in being projected by ensembles to the left and right of the platform. Moreover, “oriole color” persists (in combination with others), represented by a three-note distillation of the call that is also a common Levinson motif. In the rising form G–E–G , for example, the motif starts the phrase for the two orchestras together near the beginning of the piece and the canon of utmost serenity near the end, for two quartets, one standard, the other lowered (violin, viola, cello, bass). One may sense orioling, too, behind the intervening polyrhythmic passages that, based on a piece for balafon (West African marimba) by the Ivoirian musician Aly Keita, “Maloya,” give another function to the antiphonal layout. The title come from the memoirs of Marc Chagall recalling what his former teacher Leon Bakst said on visiting him in his studio in Paris. They could have been spoken without question to Messiaen, and could be equally to the author of this composition. Sound in space is at issue again in Au Cœur de l’infini (2012, rev. 2016), Levinson's imposing organ solo for Olivier Latry (for whom he had composed Toward Light). Made to mark the 850th anniversary of the cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, and to resound there, the piece is cast in much darker harmony and conveys an impression of the infinite partly in how its several ideas appear and reappear as if in cross-cutting cycles, impinging on each other, enmeshing, going off alone into the huge vaulted space by virtue of inbuilt silences. Then there is the grand chorale that is the culmination of the work's basic melodic theme, now proceeding in progressions that may be imagined to go on infinitely after it has left the stage. Two more keyboard works of 2015, adding to Levinson’s strong line of piano compositions, bring this selection to its furthest point. Chorale for Nanine, with Birds is a brief solo piece Levinson wrote as a birthday present for his wife but also as another homage to Messiaen, the chorale being introduced and overlaid by the songs of “a highly stylized chickadee and two song sparrows.” In Ringing Changes, for two pianos, the composer once more looks rather at his Asian inheritance, the brilliant main material being a perpetual-motion line “in fluidly changing rhythmic groupings and in shifting modes inspired both by Balinese gamelan and North Indian ragas.” Drawn from his solo piano piece Ragamalika, itself derived from a movement of Time and the Bell…, this material characteristically alternates and collides with fully chromatic music. Meanwhile, its circling similarities gain an extra bounce from canons at the octave that gain ever-new rhythmic intricacies as the parts come closer together in time. As so often in Levinson’s work, electric activity alternates with a complementary kind of music springing, it would seem, from the same source, this comprising bell sounds and a bass motif in stopped notes. We have come a long way from in dark, to find ourselves at the close of this piece, as at the start of its predecessor by almost half a century, captivated by a modal chord on C. This is not the end, of course, but further lines from Eliot’s Four Quartets nevertheless seem apt: And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. –– Paul Griffiths is a British music critic, novelist, and librettist. in dark Gerald Levinson, born in 1951 and raised in Connecticut, has been increasingly recognized as one of the major composers of his generation. In 1990, he received the Music Award (for lifetime achievement) of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, which cited his “sensitive poetic spirit, imaginative treatment of texture and color,” and his “potent and very personal idiom which projects immediately to the listener.”   His first teachers were George Crumb, George Rochberg, and Richard Wernick at the University of Pennsylvania; then Ralph Shapey at the University of Chicago. He then studied at the Paris Conservatory with Olivier Messiaen, for whom he later served as translator and assistant. He is the Jane Lang Professor of Music at Swarthmore College, where he been on the faculty since 1977, and has twice served as Chair of the Department of Music and Dance. He spent 1979-80 in Bali as a Henry Luce Foundation Scholar, composing and studying Balinese music, and returned there in 1982-83 as a Guggenheim Fellow, followed by extended stays in Thailand, Burma, Nepal, and Sri Lanka. Levinson has received numerous awards for his music, including two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Goddard Lieberson Fellowship and the Music Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and the Pew Fellowship in the Arts (2007).  He has also served as a juror for the Rome Prize, the Copland Fund for Recorded Music, and the Pulitzer Prize. 
 His music has been widely performed in the US and Europe by major orchestras and ensembles, including the London Sinfonietta, the Los Angeles Philharmonic, the Philadelphia Orchestra, the Seattle, Indianapolis and Cincinnati Symphonies, the City of Birmingham (England) Symphony Orchestra, the Aspen and Tanglewood Festivals, and many others, led by such conductors as Sir Simon Rattle, Christoph Eschenbach, Hugh Wolff, Oliver Knussen, Gunther Schuller, Gerard Schwarz, Esa-Pekka Salonen, and David Zinman. His principal works include two large-scale symphonies: Anāhata (Symphony No. 1) (1984-86) and the Second Symphony (1992-94) (commissioned by the Koussevitzky Foundation and premiered by the Los Angeles Philharmonic, conducted by Sir Simon Rattle) as well as seven other works for large orchestra, and numerous chamber-orchestra, ensemble, vocal, keyboard, and band works. Five Fires (1995) for orchestra was broadcast worldwide by the BBC in the 1997 Masterprize Competition, and was awarded the Prix International Arthur Honegger.  Time and the bell … (1998) was commissioned by Orchestra 2001, the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and the Syracuse New Music Group. Two of Levinson’s orchestral works were commissioned by the Philadelphia Orchestra: Avatar (2003), for the inaugural concert of Christoph Eschenbach as Music Director in 2003, and Toward Light (2006) for organ and orchestra, for the dedication of the new organ in its concert hall. A close association with Philadelphia’s Orchestra 2001 resulted in commissions, performances and recordings of numerous works over the years for ensemble and for chamber orchestra. His music for keyboard includes works for solo piano, piano four-hands, two pianos, and organ. Among his vocal works are the song cycles with ensemble, in dark (poems by Nanine Valen and Robert Lax) and Black Magic / White Magic (Poems by Nanine Valen); as well as Three Fables (by Robert Lax). More information about his music can be found at www.geraldlevinson.com and www.presser.com/composer/levinson-gerald/ Hugh Wolff is among the leading conductors of his generation. He has appeared with all the major American orchestras and is much in demand throughout Europe, Asia and Australia. Appointed Music Director of the Belgian National Orchestra in 2017, Wolff was principal conductor of the Frankfurt Radio Orchestra from 1997 to 2006. From 1988 to 2000, Wolff was principal conductor of the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra. Wolff has recorded more than fifty discs, including the complete Beethoven symphonies and collaborations with Mstislav Rostropovich, Yo-Yo Ma, Joshua Bell, Hilary Hahn, and jazz guitarist John Scofield. Born in Paris to American parents, Wolff graduated from Harvard College and Peabody Conservatory. For the last decade he has been deeply involved in music education, teaching conducting and leading the orchestras at Boston’s New England Conservatory. In 2015 James Freeman retired after 27 years as founder, artistic director, and conductor of Orchestra 2001.  In 2016 he launched a new orchestra, Chamber Orchestra FIRST EDITIONS and continues to lead it as artistic director and conductor. He is also Daniel Underhill Emeritus Professor of Music at Swarthmore College.  He was trained at Harvard University, Tanglewood, and Vienna's Akademie für Musik, and has recorded as pianist, bassist, and conductor for Nonesuch, Columbia, Turnabout, Acoustic Research, CRI, MMC, Albany, Centaur, Innova, and Bridge Records. Philadelphia's Orchestra 2001 is dedicated to performing and promoting the music of the 20th and 21st centuries.  Its name pointed to the future when the ensemble was founded by James Freeman in 1988.  Today the name is by now indelibly associated with landmark performances and recordings of contemporary music. The orchestra has brought new American music to countless local, national, and international audiences, especially through its tours abroad and its recordings for CRI, Albany, Innova, Centaur, and Bridge Records. A unique relationship with George Crumb led to the creation, performances, and recordings (for Bridge Records) of the composer's monumental series of seven volumes of "American Songbooks." Jan Krzywicki is a composer, conductor and educator.  His music has been commissioned, performed and recorded by prestigious performers nationally and internationally.  He is the recipient of a Pew Fellowship in the Arts, an award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and international artist residencies.  His work is published by Theodore Presser Co., Tenuto Publications and others and can be heard on Albany Records and other labels.  Since 1990 he has conducted the contemporary ensemble Network for New Music.  Krzywicki is a professor of music theory at Temple University, where he has taught courses in analysis, performance practice, ear training, and conducts the New Music Ensemble. The Network for New Music, which The Philadelphia Inquirer has called the city's "premier new music organization," presents music by emerging and established composers from Philadelphia, the greater United States and abroad. Since its inception in 1984, Co-founder and Artistic Director Emerita, Linda Reichert has led the Ensemble to present more than 650 works, including 147 Network commissions, and has overseen recordings of 4 CDs for the Albany and Innova labels. Also committed to education, the Network Ensemble has been involved with projects involving middle school through high school-aged students, as well as the Curtis Institute of Music, the University of Pennsylvania, Temple University, Swarthmore College, Haverford College., and others. The flexible 20-member Network Ensemble is comprised mostly of musicians hailing from the Philadelphia Orchestra, Opera Philadelphia, the Pennsylvania Ballet, and the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia. In June 2018, Reichert was succeeded by Thomas Schuttehelm. http://www.networkfornewmusic.org/.  Marcantonio Barone has premiered piano works by Ingrid Arauco, Richard Brodhead, David Finko, Ulysses Kay, Gerald Levinson, Philip Maneval, George Rochberg, Andrew Rudin, and Melinda Wagner  As a member of Orchestra 2001, he was the pianist for the first performances and recordings of the seven volumes of George Crumb’s American Songbook.  He and violinist Barbara Govatos received the Classical Recording Foundation’s 2012 Samuel Sanders Award for their recording of the Beethoven Violin Sonatas. He performs regularly with the Lenape Chamber Ensemble, 1807 and Friends, and the Craftsbury Chamber Players and teaches at the Bryn Mawr Conservatory of Music and Swarthmore College.  His teachers included Eleanor Sokoloff, Susan Starr, and Leon Fleisher.  Mr. Barone is a Steinway Artist.  Charles Abramovic is Professor of Keyboard Studies at Temple University’s Boyer College of Music in Philadelphia. Mr. Abramovic has performed often with such artists as Midori, Sarah Chang, Robert McDuffie, Viktoria Mullova, Kim Kashkashian and Mimi Stillman. He is a core member of the Dolce Suono Ensemble in Philadelphia. French organist Olivier Latry is one of the most distinguished concert organists in the world today. One of three titular organists at the Cathedral of Notre-Dame in Paris, he is also Professor of Organ at the Paris Conservatory of Music, Organist Emeritus with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra in Canada, and maintains a full schedule of concert performances appearing regularly as a soloist at prestigious venues and festivals, and with leading orchestras around the world. Robert Lax (1915-2000), was born in Olean, New York, and lived for many years on the Greek island of Patmos. He is the author of numerous books of poetry, including The Circus of the Sun, Sea and Sky, and Fables (set by Gerald Levinson in his Three Fables [2009], recorded on Avie 2269), as well as prose and journals. A large collection of his work has appeared as Love Had a Compass. Nanine Valen is a poet and writer of children's books, and a psychotherapist. Her books include The Drac: French Tales of Dragons and Demons (co-authored with Felice Holman), and The Devil's Tail. Her poetry forms the text of another song cycle by Gerald Levinson, Black Magic / White Magic (recorded on CRI 642). Recording Data and Personnel *All recordings, unless otherwise noted, were made in Lang Concert Hall, Swarthmore College, George Blood, engineer and editor; Tadashi Matsuura, assistant engineer Avatar Commissioned by the Philadelphia Orchestra for the inaugural concert of Music Director Christoph Eschenbach, Sept. 18, 2003. Recorded by Radio Symphony Orchestra Frankfurt, Hugh Wolff, Music Director, Alte Oper, Frankfurt, Dec. 9-10, 2004, Udo Wüstendörfer, engineer and editor. This release on CD is by kind permission of the Hessischer Rundfunk and Hugh Wolff. At the Still Point of the Turning World, There the Dance Is Commissioned by the Network for New Music, Linda Reichert, Artistic Director; Jan Kzrywicki, conductor, supported by the Chamber Music America Commissioning Program and the Philadelphia Music Project. First performance April 27, 2003. Recorded Feb. 4, 2005.* Network for New Music Ensemble: Elizabeth Masoudnia, oboe/English horn; Arne Running, clarinet; Paul Demers, bass clarinet; Marshall Taylor, baritone and soprano saxophones; Burchard Tang, viola; Michal Schmidt, cello; Mary Wheelock Javian, contrabass; Angela Zator Nelson, percussion, William Newman, guitar. Originally released on Albany TROY 838; reissued by kind permission of Albany Records and the Network for New Music, Linda Reichert, former artistic director Chorale for Nanine, with Birds (Hommage à Messiaen) First public performance: Marcantonio Barone, Swarthmore College, Nov. 13, 2016. Musiques Nocturnes (Hommage à Bartók) First performed by the composer, Swarthmore College, Dec. 1981 Ringing Changes Written for Stephanie Ho and Saar Ahuvia; First performance: Makrokosmos Project, Portland Oregon, June 23, 2016. Three works (Chorale, Musiques Nocturnes, Ringing Changes) recorded Dec. 20, 2017 at Rock Hall, Temple University, Philadelphia*. Now Your Colors Sing Commissioned by Orchestra 2001, James Freeman, Music Director, as part of the Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts; first performed April 8, 2011. Recorded June 21, 2011* Crickets Written to honor the 21st anniversary of the founding of Orchestra 2001, and the 70th birthday of its Music Director James Freeman. First performance: Dec. 13, 2009, Swarthmore College. Recorded June 21, 2011.* Marcantonio Barone, piano; Igor Szwec and Emma Kummrow, violins; Ellen trainer, viola; Brooke Cyzewski, cello. Anāhata (Symphony No. 1) Commissioned by the Northeastern Pennsylvania Philharmonic, Hugh Wolff, Music Director. First performances: April 18 - 22, 1986, Scranton and Wilkes Barre, PA. Live concert recording, Carnegie Hall, New York, Jan. 28, 1990. This first commercial release is licensed by permission of the American Composers Orchestra and Hugh Wolff. Restoration and mastering by George Blood. Au Coeur de l’infini Written for Olivier Latry; first performance: May 28, 2013, Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris, at a concert celebrating the 850th anniversary of the cathedral. Revised version first performed by Olivier Latry at the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Newark, New Jersey, Nov. 20, 2016. Recorded February 15, 2017 on the great organ of Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris. Philippe Malidin, engineer and editor. in dark (three poems of the night) First performance: University of Pennsylvania, May 3, 1972; Judith Westcott, soprano; composer conducting. Recorded September 11, 1995*. Orchestra 2001: Pamela Guidetti, piccolo/alto flute; Lois Herbine, flute/bass flute; Michael Strauss, viola; Lori Barnett, cello; Sophie Bruno, harp; Charles Abramovic, piano; Susan Jones and William Kerrigan, percussion. Curt Wittig, engineer and editor. Originally released on CRI 760, 1997. Reissued by kind permission of New World records. All works are published by Theodore Presser Co. (BMI) Cover photo by Gerald Levinson, Aspres-lès-Corps, France, 2008. Moon photo by Gerald Levinson, Assateague Island, Virginia, 2018. Graphic design by Ari Levinson. “The Art of Music” and “Music and Dance” by Anatol Kovarsky are reproduced by kind permission of Gina Kovarsky. Innova Director: Philip Blackburn Operations Director: Chris Campbell Publicist: Tim Igel Innova is supported by an endowment from the McKnight Foundation. Music of Gerald Levinson: for further listening Trio for clarinet, cello, and piano John Russo, Lori Barnett, John Dulik: CRS 8219 (LP), 1983 Black Magic/White Magic for mezzo-soprano and ensemble Dreamlight for cello, piano, and percussion Morning Star for piano four hands Bronze Music for two pianos Orchestra 2001 et al: CRI / New World 642, 1993 in dark (three poems of the night) for voice and ensemble Eastman Music Nova: Albany Troy 277, 1999 Morning Star Elson-Swartout Duo: Laurel LR 859CD, 1996 For the Morning of the World for chamber orchestra Chant des rochers for 11 winds, piano, harp, and percussion Time and the Bell . . . for piano and ensemble Marcantonio Barone, Orchestra 2001: Albany Troy 742, 2005 Bronze Music and Mountain Light for symphonic band New England Conservatory Jordan Winds, Wm. Drury, conductor: “Bronze Music,” Albany Troy 913, 2007 Duo (winds of light) for violin and piano Trio for clarinet, cello, and piano Consolation for voice and piano Ragamalika for piano Here of amazing most now for ensemble Marcantonio Barone, Orchestra 2001, et al : “Here of amazing most now,” Albany Troy 936, 2007 Odyssey for solo flute Mimi Stillman: “Odyssey: 11 Premieres for Flute and Piano”, Innova 814, 2011 Midnight Dream for piano Emmanuele Arciuli: “Round Midnight: Homage to Thelonius Monk,” Stradivarius STR 33898, 2011 Fanfare for Boyd Barnard for two trumpets David Ammer, “La trompette a renouvelé,” Brassjar Music, 2011 Three Fables: David Yang, Auricolae Children’s Music Ensemble: Avie 2292, 2014 Acknowledgements This recording was made possible in large part by support from Swarthmore College. Special additional thanks to Constance Hungerford, former provost and interim president, and to Maurice Eldridge, former vice president, for their help in securing additional funding; and to Jeff Scheuer for his generous support. Major additional funding was also provided by the Friends of Music and Dance at Swarthmore and Li-Lan Cheng, as well as by Deborah How, whose tireless generosity and initiative in support of this project are very gratefully acknowledged. Thanks also to the Department of Music and Dance at Swarthmore for the use of Lang Concert Hall for many of the studio recordings. Finally, thanks are also due to Michael Geller, former president of the American Composers Orchestra, for approving the release of the concert recording of Anāhata and negotiating the licensing arrangement; to Hugh Wolff, for graciously approving the release of that performance (and for originally commissioning the work) as well as that of Avatar; and to New World Records and Albany Records for permitting the reissues of the recordings of in dark and At the Still Point of the Turning World, There the Dance Is.