Warren Benson A Centennial Celebration

Warren Benson A Centennial Celebration

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Bang the drum for Warren Benson. Benson was born in Detroit 100 years ago today.

At 14, he was playing timpani in the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, working with conductors such as Eugene Ormandy, Fritz Reiner, Eugene Goossens, and Leonard Bernstein while an undergraduate at the University of Michigan.

He taught in Greece for two years, establishing a bi-lingual music curriculum and organizing the Anatolia College Chorale, the first scholastic co-educational choir in the country. For 14 years, he taught at Ithaca College, organizing the first touring percussion ensemble in the eastern United States. From there, he joined the faculty at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, NY.

Benson composed over 100 works. He was especially well-regarded for his song cycles and music for percussion and winds. His most celebrated piece has been “The Leaves Are Falling,” written in the aftermath of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. The piece was inspired by the poem “Herbst” (“Autumn”) by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Benson died in 2005. Donald Hunsberger, an associate at Eastman, included “The Leaves Are Falling” on a list of essential works for wind ensemble.


“The Leaves Are Falling”

Benson discusses it:

https://irp-cdn.multiscreensite.com/2302eea8/files/uploaded/discussion_w_benson.pdf

“HERBST” (“AUTUMN”) BY RAINER MARIA RILKE

Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit,
als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten;
sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde.

Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde
aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit.

Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt.
Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen.

Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen
unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.

ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY DONALD MACE WILLIAMS:

Leaves fall, they fall as from a distant place,
as if far gardens withered in the skies;
they fall with a denying attitude.

And in the nighttimes falls the heavy world
out of all stars into the solitude.

We all are falling. Falling, here, this hand.
And look at others: it is in them all.

Yet there exists One who all of this falling
forever softly holds within his hands.

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