TH'E SUSSEX JAZZ SUITE
After writing the Brighton Jazz Suite I dithered a lot about what to write next. What I've finally come up with is a suite about East Sussex - a county in the South of England which has a lot of interesting material to offer. It also means that I can add to the suite afterwards to keep it evolving and to focus on certain places or things, depending upon where the band can get a gig.
Here is a map of the county of East Sussex. Brighton and Hove is included within the county on a cermonial basis only and is a self-governing entity.
Some background information
The South Downs is a range of chalk hills which stretches from near Chichester in West Sussex to just outside Eastbourne. The word Downs comes from the Saxon word dun which means hill. Along the coast to the east of Eastbourne the land is flatter. Beyond the Downs to the north, is a (mainly clay) plain known as the Low Weald which gives way to the High Weald consisting of sandstone, the highest point in the county being at Crowborough. Ashdown Forest - an ancient deer-hunting forest - covers a lot of the High Weald, although it has shrunk to half of its original size. It is a predominantly heathland area. In fact the word forest originally meant a wilderness which lay beyond cultivated and settled land, rather than being anything to do with woodland per se. The word Weald is a corruption of wald meaning woodland.
No-one can accuse the Saxons of not having a sense of humour in calling hills Downs. So what did they call valleys? The answer is combe or coomb while dean/dene means a little valley. Sometimes you will see the word bottom as in Breaky Bottom, but that's a later Middle English word. (Incidentally, hurst means wood, mere means pond and leigh/ley/ly means a wood or a clearing in a wood. You come across these words in many place-names in Sussex.)
For hundreds of thousands of years, early humans have come to England. This was made easier by the fact that until 350,000 years ago, Britain was not an island but joined to the continent in the East Anglia region by what is known as Doggerland. With sea levels much lower during the ice ages as so much water was tied up in the ice-caps and glaciers, Britain was accessible to hunters from Europe. In the milder spells hill-forts on the South Downs were built, as at Coomb Hill at Jevington near Eastbourne and Mount Caburn just outside of Lewes. But in the colder periods the dense forests of the Weald were more hospitable places.
It is assumed that the earliest settlers could not stand the intense cold of the heights of the ice ages and perished or went on extended holidays to warmer countries for several thousand years.
East Sussex was once part of the larger county of Sussex - the kingdom of the South Saxons, formed in 477AD when Aelle arrived by sea at a place called Cymenshore, the whereabouts of which scholars are still not sure of.
In the 12th century, the religious administrative area known as the See of Chichester was split into two archdeaconries, based in Chichester and Lewes. In 1974, the two distinct areas became respectively the county of West Sussex and the county of East Sussex.
The music
Giving myself a large area to write some music about means I have a tremendous scope for continuously adding to this suite. Before going on holiday I wrote the initial collection of tunes.
Before getting down to writing the arrangments, I played over the tunes whenever I had a spare moment and allocated who I would like to play solos on them. Certain types of pieces suit different players. I always try and ensure that everyone gets a good chance to be in the spotlight. The initial soundbites are very rough versions of the tune played on a synth before they have been arranged. My apologies for the poor quality. The final results which will be added later will be much different.
I am not writing the tunes in any order - just the ones which I fancy doing next, so the order on this page will change as I add new ones. I will add notes to each tune in italics. More photographs will be added over time.
One of the most important places in East Sussex, arguably in the whole of Britain is Pevensey Castle, located a few miles East of Eastbourne. The castle was built, probably in 290AD by the Romans, and was called Anderitum or Anderida, meaning the Place at the River Mouth. It was built to guard against maurading Jutes and Saxons. At the time, the area was surrounded on 3 sides by the sea. Today it lies several miles inland.
In 491AD Aelle and his son Cissa led a Saxon invasion of the castle and slaughtered the defenders. In 1042, King Harold's army were encamped in the castle and only left in the summer of 1066 when they left to fight an invading army of Vikings under King Harald Hardrada at Stamford Bridge. So King Harold beat King Harald in case you are confused by now. Harald claimed the throne of England, a claim going back to the dyslexic King Cnut the Great, otherwise known in England as King Canute.
On September 28th of that year (1066) William of Normandy and his forces invaded England, landing at Pevensey (Anderida) before marching Eastwards where he defeated King Harold at the Battle of Hastings on October 14th. He also had laid claim to the crown of England - and got it.
In 1264, King Henry III and his supporters took refuge in the castle after his defeat at the Battle of Lewes. You can learn more about it here.
Today, it is very unimposing. You can walk around the outer area, surrounded by the 12 foot thick, 28 foot high Roman walls (with or without a dog) free of charge, but for entry to the Norman Castle area there is a small fee. This is my tune called Anderida which you can hear for free! .
This is an alto feature. It builds from just alto and rhythm section over several choruses to full band backing. The tune itself is rather angular and the actual sequence is quite difficult but a good alto player can easily cope with this.
The Lady from Eastbourne. Many years ago I went to a concert by Sergio Mendes and Brazil 77 in Eastbourne. His opening remark I recall was that Eastbourne was rather like Rio. This caused a lot of laughter.
Bear in mind that the coastal area between Seaford and Bexhill is a big favourite amongst the retired, and the proportion of elderly people is very high here. So my title reflects this. This is how the lyrics of Girl from Ipanema might be written with this in mind;
Short and squat and drab and dumpy
The lady from Eastbourne goes out walkin'
And when she passes, each one she passes goes "Watch out!"
When she walks, she's like a barn dance
Arthritic hips in old ladies' pants,
And when she passes, each one she passes goes "Mind your step!"
O-ver the road I would help her
Past all the shops I would guide her
Up to the toilets I'd lead her
For each day when she walks near the sea
She needs to find somewhere to pee.
Grey and wrinkled with features drawn,
Hearing's bad and eyesight's poor, 'n'
When she passes, I smile,
But she doesn't see, not you or me,
She just cannot see..
This is not about anyone in particular. The point is that when she was young, she was probably just as beautiful and haughty as the girl from Ipanema. She might have lived a very interesting life, been all over the world, met a lot of famous people. She may have celebrated too in her time. But in Britain, people are judged by their looks and young people are idolised while the elderly are all too often despised or thought to be a nuisance. What a dreadful society we live in. This is the tune I wrote about her . As you can tell, it's a jazz waltz, a bossa would be too obvious.
Here are some pictures of Eastbourne: the sea-shore looking west, the carpet gardens looking east towards the pier and a view of the town from near Beachy Head. On the second row, the Grand Hotel and a picture of Debussy at the Grand Hotel. He finished la Mer there in 1905 where he stayed with his mistress. He wrote to his publisher: The place is peaceful and charming. The sea rolls itself with a correctness truly Britannic... But what a great place to work. No noise, no pianos, except those delicious mechanical pianos. Little did he realise that just over a hundred years later the management would purchase 3 modern "mechanical" pianos (which can also be played normally) which have enabled them to cut down the number of days work for real live musicians, one of them being me. Personally, I blame Claude!
In the introduction, I've quoted a few notes from The Girl From Ipanema - this is so un-obvious that I've had to mention it beforehand. I want a soft mellow sound, so I've used flugels in unison with the altos to play the tune backed by trombones in bucket mutes. As the tune leaves no room for breathing, I've split the instruments in two parts so they can play alternate phrases but the overall sound will be the same. Then there is a tenor solo (homage to Stan Getz), with the trombones quoting the 2-note phrases from the tune as a backing. After bar 16, I've notched up the backing to include everyone playing in section work. This leads into a trombone solo, the first part is just with rhythm section, then the saxes are added on a soft unison line. After that comes 8 bars brass harmony with unison saxes/flute, followed by 8 bars solo trumpet. This pattern is repeated, but as the second part of the tune is only 12 bars long, I've added an extra 4 bars to give the solo trumpet a full 8 bars. This is no problem since there is no turn-around - the tune resolves on the first bar of the tune when it is repeated, so an extra few bars treading water will help to wind things down before the whole chorus of ensemble block chords which follow. As a contrast, this is followed by a chorus of bass solo. Then back to the tune. This time, I've divided up the 2 ingredients of the tune. The 2-note bit is played now by the trombones and tenors to start with, with the flugels, altos and flute playing the other notes. (Listen to the sound clip to distinguish the 2 parts.) The second part of the tune reverts to the original treatment and the piece ends with a short extension and a drum rit before the final chord.
If you go west along the coast from Eastbourne for a few miles you will come Beachy Head. This is the highest point on the chalk cliffs - part of the South Downs - rising up to 162 metres (530 feet) above sea level. Although it is a beauty spot, it is also a place where people have come to commit suicide with 61 percent coming from outside East Sussex. For people tempted to do so, please think first. Think of the people who have to face danger themselves in retrieving your battered body. Think of relatives who may have to identify you. In other words, think of the grief it will cause other people. Look at these photographs and think again. The inscription in front of the cross reads: " - I love you, son".
Beachy Head was also the sight of a sea battles - the battle of Portland in 1653 and the battle of Beachy Head in 1690. The name Beachy Head is a corruption of the Old French Beauchef, meaning beautiful headland.
I wanted to convey in the music the feeling of vertigo you can get by looking down from a great height on to the waves crashing on to the rocks below. I do this by use of dynamics - a series of short crescendo-decrescendos. This occurs every 2 bars for the first 24 bars (2 times 12 bars) and in the final 8 bars of the tune. Dynamics are also an important ingredient of the whole arrangement, almost as important as the notes themselves. After a long piano solo Ithis is the sort of sequence that I relish), there is a long tenor solo. There is then a long block ensemble shout chorus before a repetition of the first phrase of the tune harmonised in different ways. I'm afraid the initial sound clip does not do justice to it . This is the ensemble passage on the first run through at its first rehearsal .
Just a few miles inland from Eastbourne lies the small village of Jevington. Originally called Geofa-ing-tun (the settlement of Geofa) and dating back to Saxon times, it was heavily involved in smuggling in the 18th century with contraband stored in the rectory and in the pub. The kingpin was a certain Jevington Jigg, the landlord of the Eight Bells pub. He was playing cards when the authorities came to arrest him and quickly donned a petticoat, bonnet and cloak and escaped.
I love the story about the vicar of the church who found himself presented with a mechanical organ. As the organ could only play one tune, all of the psalms had to be sung to this, until one day after finishing playing the usual tune it burst into a very jolly tune called Little Drops of Brandy. No-one was able to stop it and in exasperation, the vicar picked up the organ and ran down the lane with it still playing and threw it down the village well.
There is a restaurant in Jevington called The Hungry Monk (jazz players take note!) which is famous for another reason: Banoffi Pie. It was dreamed up by the chefs, Ian Dowding and Nigel Mackenzie in 1972. To find out the original recipe, written by Ian Dowding himself, go to this page.
I have written a tune called Banoffi Pie (This is how he spells it and I'm sticking to that). It suggests a rather laid-back tune to me - something to be indulged in and savoured. Here is the tune
Food in jazz is often associated with bluesy pieces. So this follows suit, although it is certainly not a 12-bar. It should be in 12/8 but I have written it in 3/4 to make it easier to read. The tune starts with trombones in 6ths, doubled up on each part playing in plungers to get a dirty bluesy sound. In the next section, the tenors and baritone are added leaving 2 of the trombones free to play some low pedal notes. In the middle section the saxes take over in unison with sustained and shock chords from the brass. And in the final section the trumpets play the tune, with trombones on the lower harmony note to begin with before playing some low chords. The second chorus is an alto sax solo. This builds from just rhythm section backing in the first part, then adding some legato backing and then eventually more powerful chords from the horns. After a tag, the alto has 4 bars to wind down, like taking a cold shower after a good something-or-other. The bass(-guitar) then has a solo with just drums for the first section, adding organ for the next section and then high unison saxes and brass chords for the middle. No problems of drowning out a bass guitar, so it can become quite loud. After this, I let him off his lead and he can wander about freely by himself until he brings in a short vamp into the final part of the tune as in the first chorus. A repeated phrase (to which you could sing the words "Banoffi Pie") finishes off the piece with a muted trumpet playing some fills, like a person licking his lips after a good meal.
Between Eastbourne and Alfriston as the crow flies there is the small village of Wilmington. This is an ancient settlement going back to pre-Saxon times as burial mounds have been found nearby. Here, cut into the Downs, is the white figure called The Long Man of Wilmington. The figure, built on a chalk curved hillside is 226 foot high and the perspective is perfect when viewed from afar. How this was achieved is a mystery, as is the date that it originates from. Some people suggest the 4th century AD, while others think it may have been constucted by monks from the nearby Priory between the 11th and 15th centuries. It has been suggested that it might even date back to 3480 BC to mark the constellation Orion's movement across the top of the Downs.
I do pity him. Out there in all weathers, stared at by strangers and occasionally molested (at times in the past a phallus has been added to him, giving a new meaning to the name, Long Man). The only company he has are the birds. For the sake of the music, I have imagined him having a bit of a love affair with a small bird. The bird says to him "Come fly with me" (obviously a fan of Frank Sinatra) but the long man cannot - he is well and truly grounded. Here is the music I wrote for him .
I have tried to conjure up something misterious - the chord lacks a third and has a rather lonely and desolate sound. The notes are, from bottom to top, F C G D. The first part of the tune (20 bars) is harmonised with the same voicing. From the bottom, the notes are played by bass trombone, 3rd trombone with arco string bass playing both in 5ths, then 2nd trombone unis with 2nd tenor and 1st trombone. The trombones are all in bucket mutes and the saxes play subtone. In the second part of the tune, the harmony slightly changes and 4 flugels are added, doubled by alto, 2 clarinets and flute. My reservation before hearing the results are that the clarinet/flugel might sound too military, in which case I will change the instruments around. The first solo is by the bass trombone, as befitting a manly figure. It is followed by a flute solo (a bird). They then swap phrases and solo together before the tune is repeated again but with some solo fills by some of the other horns (sightseers, maybe, or sheep). Rather an operatic piece you might think. Maybe we should perform it at the opera house, Glyndebourne.
The county town of East Sussex is Lewes, a historic town in which there are some wonderful old houses and a Norman castle. The word Lewes, pronouned like the American name Louis, is derived from the Saxon word Hlaew meaning hill, as the town is indeed built on the side of a hill beside the river Ouse which flows in a gap in the South Downs.
One thing that Lewes is famous for is the celebration of November 5th (Guy Fawkes night) when people dress up in period costumes, parade down the main street and then gather around various bonfires to set off fireworks. In Lewes, this not only celebrates the foiled plot to blow up parliament in 1605, but also marks the burning at the stake of 17 Protestant martyrs in 1556 who were killed for practising their faith. A plaque commemorating this (far right) can be seen on Lewes Town Hall (middle picture). The Town Hall can just be seen in the first photograph at the top of the road. Thank goodness people are now tolerant of other denominations and religions!!!
Here is a tune to commemorate the Lewes Bonfires, aptly called Bonfire. Click here for more information on Lewes Bonfires.
The tune is voiced for saxes in just 2 parts (mainly thirds), but to give a bit of variety to this I have divided the trumpets and trombones into 2 of each, one with cup mutes and the other with plungers which play alternative phrases. After the tune, the key changes for a trumpet solo (an instance where one key is better suited for the tune than for the solos.) I let him run amok for the first chorus before unleashing some musical fireworks on the next chorus - he quite likes a good bang. A tenor solo follows this and to mark the transition to a new key and new soloist I also change from Latin to swing. No-one gets a chance to sleep in my band. A bit of tension is built up by the other sections and then in the second chorus I gradually add the other tenor and the altos for a communal "singsong" - a nice bit of organised chaos to reflect bonfire night. In contrast, this leads to a quiet ensemble passage voiced in thirds, then as second inversions of triads and then adding the major sevenths to these chords as volume and intensity increase. To finish off the firework display I unleash a big rocket before returning to the theme, this time with open brass with muted trumpet fills.
A celbrated former resident of Lewes was Gideon Mantell: a man of many talents. Born on the 3rd February 1790, he started work as a pharmacist and dentist before studying medecine in London and becoming a Member of the Royal College of Surgeons and a Midwife, delivering 200-300 babies a year at one time, which somehow still left him time to indulge in his passion for geology and the categorisation of fossils he found locally.
His most important find (some say it was his wife who found them) were some teeth, which (to a lot of derision at the time) he claimed belonged to a dinosaur he called Iguanodon. He is credited with discovering 4-5 genera of dinosaurs. He died in 1852.
He was also a very humane brave man who once took a woman from the gallows because he stated that she was not guilty of a crime. He also disproved of the treatment of patients at the Royal Artillery Hospital in Ringmer where he worked for a while.
It was discovered in a postmortem examination of Mantell that he suffered from scoliosis in which the spine is curved from side to side. A portion of his spine was removed and pickled and stored in the Royal College of Surgeons in London. How ironic that one of Britain's greatest palaeontologists should have one of his own bones on display for others to discover! The person whose decision it was to put Mantell's spine on display was Richard Owen, a fierce rival of Mantell who opposed his theories, prevented publication of one of his works after his death and wrote a damning obituary about him. It is also ironic that Mantell's surgery in Clapham Common where he lived for the latter part of his life is now a dental surgery, seeing that he is famous above all for discovering the tooth of Iguanadon.
This plaque to Mantell can been seen next to the door on the left hand side of the house. The architect of the house, incidentally, was Amon Wilde - see Brighton Jazz Suite. The Barbican, part of Lewes 11th century castle, is just beyond the house on the right hand side.
To my mind, Gideon Mantell was a wonderful man and so I have written this tune in his honour. The soprano solo here is by Simon D'Souza. I call it Mantell Piece.
The tune is 24 bars (8+8+8) and ends up in various unexpected keys. It is first played by clarinet and single-note piano against trombones with cup mutes. Then the flute is added to the clarinet/piano tune and the other saxes double the harmony parts. In the last part of the tune, all of the saxes play the melody and trumpets in harmon mutes emphasise the harmony an octave up from the trombones. There is then a soprano solo followed by a brass soli and then sax soli section. Then each of the trumpets gets to play a short solo in rapid succession, ending with all of them at once, but for only a few bars before the third trumpet is left by himself, with not even the rhythm section to keep him company. When he is fed up with playing with himself, he plays the tune again, the trumpets join in for the second eight and the saxes again finish things off.
A few miles north east of Lewes is the village of Ringmer, albeit a very large village. Ringmer has several claims to fame, apart from the fact that I live here! John Harvard, after whom Harvard University in the USA is named, married a woman from Ringmer - Ann Sadler. William Penn, who founded the State of Pennsylvania, also married a woman from Ringmer - Gulielma Springett.
Then there is Timothy. He (some say she) was born in the Province of Virgina in 1784 and was kidnapped by a sailor, or rather tortoise-snapped as that is what he was. The sailor sold the tortoise when he got back to Chichester Harbour in West Sussex to a certain Henry Snooke who took it home with him to Ringmer. But it was not Henry but his wife, Rebecca, who looked after him for the next 40 years at Delves House in the centre of Ringmer.
Rebecca Snooke was the aunt of the Reverend Gilbert White, the author of The Natural History of Selbourne which has become a classic book about fauna and flora in England. When Rebecca died, Gilbert White took Timothy back to live with him in Selbourne. Being a meticulous natural historian he subjected Timothy to various tests: weighing him every six months and observing his every movement. He was shouted at with a megaphone to see his reactions, had his pulse taken and was dropped into a tub of water to see if he could swim - hye couldn't. No wonder he escaped from his new home in Selbourne once, but didn't get far and was found after a week.
A year after Gilbert White died in 1793, Timothy also died. The shell (carapace) is exhibited in the British Museum of Natural History.
Delves House, shown above, has served as a vicarage, a private dwelling, the home of Sir Thomas Beecham (the conductor), the baracks for Canadian forces during World War 2, and an "old folks home". It is now divided up into flats for elderly people. For a while, when it was an old folks home, I used to sell sweets there for a voluntary organisation. One day in the side-room where I kept the stock, I saw one of the residents in bed. "The usual", I said to her, picking up her favourite chocolate bar. There was no reply - quite understandable really as she was dead. It nearly put me off chocolate for life.
The tune, however, is devoted to Timothy the tortoise and is called When Timothy met Gilbert. Here is the tune with the trombone played by Tim Wade.
The 2nd Trombonist plays the part of Timothy (with a plunger), so he has the tune to start with accompanied by just bass and drums. Why is is a blues? Well, it can be pretty depressing being a tortoiee. The tune is repeated with the band playing the tune and the trombonist playing fills. There is then a chorus of piano fills answered by full band to give the trombone player a break and have more impetus for when he comes in in the next chorus with a solo. In the following solo chorus the saxes and flute have a little riff based on the tune. I put the baritone on flute and the lead alto on soprano to lighten the sax sound and keep the range up away from the trombone. In the next chorus, the brass play double tempo figures and the trombonist plays alternative bars. This is part of a ruse to contrast the rest of the band with the slow moving "tromtoise". The band gets rather carried away leaving the trombone with just drums for a stop-gap chorus next with band chordal interjections now and again - I wanted to keep the band from drowning out the trombone solo. After this the piece goes into double tempo with a trumpet player taking the part of Gilbert White. First chorus is with just rhythm, next with a trombone riff and in the third one the rest of the band play sustained chords. In the following chorus the trumpet plays 2 bars at the double tempo, answered by the trombonist playing 1 bar at the original tempo, and so on until the end of the 12 bars when he holds on to things, meanders about and then the tune is reinstated by the band. This time, the tortoibonist goes beserk in the fills - trying to keep up with the rest of the world. But the effort kills him off, as well as most of the audience I expect, just before the final band chord.
Between Alfriston and Seaford the road climbs over the Downs. At one point, there is a small car park leading to a wonderful vantage point over the river valley of the River Cuckmere leading into the sea a few miles away. This is one of my favourite beauty spots in the county and has been given the name Hindover which is an abbreviation of the full name - High and Over. There are so many beauty spots in East Sussex offering panoramic views. It always raises my spirits to come across them. Here is part of the arrangement from the sax soli to the end .
I think this is a very Englishy tune. I have given the melody to 2 soprano saxes in unison with the flute, while the chordal backing is provided by flugel horns and trombones in bucket mutes. Then the third trombone gets a solo, followed by the third trumpet and then they get 4 bar phrases each. It's only 16 bars long so I have modulated each chorus. After this, there is a sax soli for flute, soprano, soprano, alto and tenor - nothing too heavy. As the flute could get overpowered by the saxes I have put it in octaves above the lead soprano. I always assume the flute will be well-mic'ed up which tends to be the case. Then there is a passage for brass before going back to the original key and recapitulation of part of the tune. I'm not really sure about this arrangement - will have to find out when it is rehearsed.
The village of Herstmonceux, a few miles from Hailsham in the central area of the county, not only has a 15th century castle but also has, or rather had, an observatory.
Herstmonceux (pronounced hurst-mon-zoo - that must horrify a French-speaker!) is derived from either the Saxib word hyrstmeaning wooded hill, or from the family name Herst plus Monceux. I would opt for the second explanation since Idonea de Herst, who came from an aristocratic family which owned the manor at Herst, married Ingolgram de Monceux, a French nobleman, in around 1200AD. The manor became known as Herst of the Monceux before being abbreviated to Hersmonceux. Just think, it could have been known as IdoneaIngolgam!
A descendant of the de Monceux family, Roger Fiennes, whose position was Treasurer of the Houshold of King Henry, built the castle - one of the first large brick buildings in the country - in 1441 on the site of the old manor house. The property changed hands several times and eventually ended up owned by the Admiralty in 1946. Unfortunately for them, it was a long way inland so they could not keep their warships there, so they did the next best thing. They used part of the land to build the Royal Greenwich Observatory there. The word Greenwich applies because it lies on the prime meridian which starts at Greenwich in London where the Observatory was originally sited.
Within spitting distance of the castle, six large copper-plated domes were built housing telescopes, although one of them was never installed. Copper goes green when it is weathered and it was thought that this would blend in better with the fields around. Astronomers lived in the local village or in the castle itself and because no light was permitted, they had to find their way to the various domes by a network of paths using different paving and with different plants to guide them. In spite of this, several scientists fell into the ditches nearby or into the ornamental pond.
The Observatory stayed here until 1988 when it was relocated in Cambridge and one of the telescopes - the 100 inch (254 cm) aperture Isaac Newton telescope was taken to La Palma in the Canary Islands where light pollution is much less of an issue.
Today, the former observatory is part of a interactive science centre for children and there are guided tours of several of the domes which can be combined with a visit to the castle.
I wrote the piece Star Track about the Observatory .
To emphasise the twinkling of the stars and the broadness of the universe I used the technique of making each note of the tune remain sounding while the next notes are played - a bit like using the sustain pedal on the piano. This calls for extreme accuracy. I have learnt that it is most effective if some instruments actually play the whole tune, otherwise it can sound bitty. So I have got the flute and piano and lead trumpet and then the trombones playing the tune while the rest of the band play long notes on notes which form the tune. There is a tenor solo after that and then the band (high block chords) and soprano swap 2 bar phrases, leading into the middle section where the soprano takes a full solo. At the end of the middle bit, the soprano is left alone with the drums. After a while, the band plays long note phrases against it. Here I've used a variation on the way I treated the tune and when each new note is played the previous note which is played by others diminuendos in a rapid face. I think that there is a lot that can be done with dynamics to create special effects. Then it is back to the last part of the tune with a short coda. If it doesn't work at least I will have learned something. Here is the tune at the first rehearsal .