An anecdote: I played in a chamber piece of his at an Institute of Music student recital – the only modern piece among the usual list of Schumann, Bach, Chopin. At intermission, he asked a fellow teacher, an elderly, somewhat dotty elementary piano teacher what she thought of the concert so far. She said, “it was lovely, all except that dreadful modern piece.” Don said calmly, “That was my piece.” Her face fell as she said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.” And Don, without blinking said, “Miss …. , you couldn’t hurt my feelings.” She, of course, didn’t get it. But for the rest of us, it was all we could do to suppress our snickers.

I found this web page because I had been reminiscing about Don Erb and wanted to see just what he was doing. A few months too late to send him greetings and thanks for the formative role he played in my life.

Stan Heilbrun

All devotees of powerful, cathartic sound – those who awaken daily to expect the Apocalypse – must listen to his orchestral works. Exciting, filled with tension & doom, sometimes with additional brass and percussion sections behind the audience, they are not for the faint of heart. He was a composer of exuberant, unbridled cacophony & noise in a time when restrained (serial, and later, neo-Romantic) music was getting the Pulitzers – and many of the commissions. An expressionist to his core, Dr. Erb had no interest in pandering to a prize committee.

He was emotional man whom I loved as if he were my own grandfather. Devastated after the Oklahoma City catastrophe in 1995, Dr. Erb wrote a beautiful and sorrowful solo violin piece. He abhorred violence and war. He had seen the effects of the nuclear bomb in person. I recall at a composition seminar he wept as he admitted to us all that his friendship with our fellow classmate, a Japanese student, had in his excellent personality, love and humor finally erased what awful effects Dr. Erb had carried with him all those decades since serving in WWII. I will never forget that day, a man in his seventies finally shedding the last remnants of a youth spent in the shadow of the war propaganda machine. He loved his students immensely.

I cried for days when he became ill over the summer after my freshman year. It might sound melodramatic, but I couldn’t leave my apartment; I was worried he might not recover. I did not want to lose him – after all, we’d just met! And there were so many more things to laugh about, and good times to be had, and much more for me to learn from him. I never had another teacher I respected in the Conservatory. I miss him today.

I especially liked when he would speak his mind in public. Once after a Cleveland Chamber Symphony concert a composer whose work was premiered that night walked up to him asking what Dr. Erb thought, perhaps expecting a compliment… instead Erb shook his head and replied, “The piece was total shit, but their performance almost held it together.” I’m pretty sure he was speaking for everyone there.

Cheers.