​​​Album Notes​

 

I first encountered the music of Donald Ashwander in the summer of 1996 through a small advertisement in The Mississippi Rag. At the time, The Mississippi Rag was a monthly printed newsletter devoted to ragtime and related forms of American piano music. Long before social media or streaming platforms, it served as a lifeline for composers, performers, collectors, and listeners who cared deeply about this music. 

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Each issue arrived by mail, filled with concert announcements, record reviews, scholarship, and—most tantalizing of all—small classified ads offering sheet music from composers whose names were often known only within a narrow circle.

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One of those ads caught my attention. It was for a folio of piano music by a composer I had never heard of: Donald Ashwander. I sent away for the music without knowing quite what to expect. 

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I later learned that the very existence of the folio was thanks to the dedication of Donald’s sister, Judy Ashwander-Moore. In the years following his death, Judy was instrumental in championing his work and ensuring his music was preserved in print, overseeing the production of two wonderful folios that gave his music a life beyond his lifetime.

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When the folio arrived and I began playing through the pieces, I was immediately struck by the breadth and depth of what I found on the page. These were not stylistic exercises or period imitations. Ashwander’s music had a strong melodic identity, an unforced sense of rhythm, and—most impressively to me—a left hand that resisted the stock “oom-pah” patterns of early twentieth-century ragtime. 

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At the time, I had no way of knowing how important that discovery would eventually become. Like many pianists drawn to this repertoire, I filed Ashwander away as one of those composers I admired and returned to periodically. His pieces stayed with me—not just as clever constructions, but as music that felt deeply musical, humane, and sincere.

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Donald Ashwander had passed away in 1994, two years before I first encountered his music. Like many composers working outside the commercial mainstream, his death did not bring with it a renewed interest in his work. His music, for the most part, receded from view, known primarily to a small circle of pianists and listeners who had encountered it by chance, much as I had.

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Fast forward twenty-three years. In 2019, I launched a website devoted exclusively to American piano music. As I began building out composer profiles, I returned to Ashwander and quickly realized how little information was available about him. For a composer whose music showed such confidence and individuality, he remained surprisingly obscure. That curiosity turned into a kind of detective work. 

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After some searching, I was put in touch with Sharon Moore, Donald Ashwander’s niece—a remarkable singer and musician in her own right. (and who recorded an album with Donald in 1981 of lyrical songs titled Particular People). Sharon generously filled in biographical details, shared family stories, and helped place Donald’s music within the broader arc of his life. Over time, we corresponded occasionally by email, and I began to feel a growing responsibility not just to the music, but to its preservation.

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Around this same period, I started recording Ashwander’s piano works and posting them on YouTube. The response was immediate and encouraging. Listeners were drawn to the music’s lyricism and rhythmic vitality, often remarking that they were hearing something familiar yet distinct—a voice that felt rooted in tradition without sounding bound by it.

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Donald Ashwander occupies an important place within the continuum of American vernacular piano music. While many of his compositions fall comfortably within the ragtime lineage, his output extends well beyond it. He also wrote a substantial body of folk-influenced piano music—works without words that nevertheless seem to sing. 

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Like contemporaries such as Max Morath and William Bolcom, Ashwander understood this tradition not as a museum piece, but as a living language, capable of absorbing new ideas while remaining true to its origins. His music feels conversational rather than performative, more interested in expression than display.

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The idea of recording Donald Ashwander’s complete works for solo piano developed gradually, and perhaps with a bit of naïveté. I did not yet understand the scope of what I was proposing. That understanding came into focus in July of 2024, when I traveled to Gulf Shores, Alabama, at the invitation of Sharon Moore and Donald’s sister, Judy Ashwander-Moore. The purpose of the visit was straightforward but daunting: to go through Donald Ashwander’s handwritten manuscripts and locate every piece he wrote for solo piano.

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What we found exceeded all expectations. After a full day spent sorting through manuscripts, sketches, and scores, we identified seventy complete compositions for solo piano—many of which had never been performed, recorded, or published. It was nothing short of a gold mine. Here was a body of work that revealed a composer of remarkable consistency and imagination, writing with urgency and fluency across decades, largely outside the spotlight—and no longer here to advocate for it himself.

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The discovery of Donald Ashwander’s manuscripts changed my understanding of his work in a fundamental way. What I had once known as a handful of admired pieces revealed itself as a sustained, deeply personal body of music—written steadily, purposefully, and with remarkable clarity of voice. This was not a composer working sporadically or experimentally, but one who knew exactly what he wanted to say at the piano.

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This recording marks the beginning of an effort to bring that voice fully into the present. It is the first of four volumes devoted to Ashwander’s complete works for solo piano, and it focuses on a particularly concentrated period of creativity: the years 1965 to 1967. In those two years alone, Ashwander composed seventeen substantial piano works—each distinct, carefully shaped, and revealing another facet of his musical language.

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Rather than treating these pieces as historical artifacts, I have approached them as living music—meant to be played, heard, and absorbed on their own terms. What follows is not a survey, but an encounter: seventeen moments in which melody and rhythm meet with quiet confidence, inviting the listener into Ashwander’s world, one piece at a time.

 

About Donald Ashwander

Donald Ashwander (July 17, 1929 – October 26, 1994) was an American composer and pianist whose work made a significant and distinctive contribution to 20th-century piano music, especially within the ragtime and related idioms. Though his name has not always been as widely recognized as some of his contemporaries, those who know his music recognize a voice that is both deeply rooted in tradition and refreshingly original. 

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Born in Birmingham, Alabama, Ashwander grew up on a farm near Hanceville and began piano studies as a young student. After high school he continued his musical education at Sacred Heart College and Birmingham Southern College, and later attended the Manhattan School of Music in New York City, where he focused primarily on piano performance and theory. 

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Ashwander’s musical path was unconventional. He was never drawn to the dominant academic or commercial styles of his time; instead, he gravitated toward the breadth of America’s musical heritage—from ragtime and folk to gospel and popular song. This wide-ranging interest informed his compositional voice, which blends infectious rhythm, lyricism, and a uniquely expressive harmony. 

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In the mid-1960s, Ashwander’s music began to attract wider attention through his friendship with author and critic Rudi Blesh, whose influential book They All Played Ragtime included two of Ashwander’s early piano rags, Friday Night and Business in Town. These works helped establish Ashwander as a leading figure in what came to be known as the contemporary ragtime movement—a generation of composers who respected the legacy of Scott Joplin and others while expanding the form’s expressive possibilities. 

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From 1966 until his death in 1994, Ashwander served as musical director and resident composer for The Paper Bag Players, an innovative New York children’s theatre troupe. In that role he contributed not only original compositions but theatrical energy and instrumentational creativity, integrating piano with electric harpsichord, kazoos, slide whistles, rhythm boxes, and other sounds that helped define the group’s distinctive musical character. 

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Critics and fellow musicians have noted Ashwander’s melodic gift and his ability to integrate memory and imagination into music that feels both nostalgic and fresh. His work often evokes a deep sense of place and personality, drawing from the rhythms of American life yet never feeling stylized or derivative. 

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Ashwander died suddenly in 1994 while preparing to perform with The Paper Bag Players. In the years since his passing, musicians, scholars, and listeners have worked to ensure that his keyboard music—much of it previously unavailable—can finally be heard, studied, and appreciated as a meaningful part of America’s musical landscape.

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About Corte Swearingen
Corte Swearingen is a pianist devoted to American piano music, with a particular focus on composers and works outside the standard classical canon. His playing emphasizes clarity, lyricism, and respect for each composer’s individual voice.

 

He is the founder of American Piano Music, a project dedicated to preserving and promoting overlooked and under-documented piano repertoire. Through recordings, writing, and research, Swearingen works directly with original scores and manuscripts to bring this music into the present.

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His work on the music of Donald Ashwander reflects a long-standing commitment to uncovering and sharing deserving American piano voices.