This Sonatina developed from the revelation that some of the musical essence and aesthetic of rococo music had a recognizable resonance in the impressionistic approach of light jazz. This was particularly evident in comparing the light, spacious and yet fully engaged music of jazz flutists to the innumerable works written for the court of Frederick the Great by such transitional composers as C.P.E. Bach, Quantz, and the Benda brothers. In some ways, this would only be the natural response in both cases to transforming an intensely involved style of music using a simpler, more elegant approach replete with daring yet graceful ornamentation. But there is also the essence of emotional intent that is common to both styles; to charm, rather than bewitch; to amuse, rather than bemuse. This lack of pretension and false grandeur must have been as refreshing in the 1750's as it was in the 1950's.

The first movement underlines the definition of the word "Sonatina" in presenting an allegro structure of very simple delineation; "Allegretto" not only in mood, but in framework. A simple call-and-response of running 16th notes in G serves to introduce a gentle, easy-going theme in the flute part, which lightly plays with color and phrasing before modulating to the unexpected key of B-flat. The development that follows seems to lead ever closer to a stricter model of the rococo, but is interrupted by a languorous episode of lushly chiming piano supporting the flute's clear, clean tones and patterns. An abbreviated reprise leads to the cascade of modulations that brings the movement to a close.

The freer harmony and melodic wandering of the opening of the second movement gives way to a measured, melancholy theme traded between piano and flute. At times, it is a baroque aria with jazz substitution chords, at others, an impressionist essay with baroque phrasing and ornamentation. All moods and influences blend in the chromatic mélange of the final bars as the piano's descent ripples and murmurs beneath the flute's anchoring tones.

The final Rondo is the most traditionally rococo of the three movements in its leaping 6/8 pulse and bright consonant harmonies. Yet there is a more contemporary sense of expectation and surprise, as motives fall into occasional minimalist loops, phrases add or subtract a pulse, and modulations shift wantonly. There are more obvious touches as well, with a blues bass line or a jazz waltz breaking out of the veneer from time to time. A flute cadenza interrupts the coda for a last exploration of color and style before riding the piano to the final dancing bars.