INDESCRIVIBILI…

Ecco come si possono definire le sensazioni  generate nel nostro animo dalle magiche note di Debussy.

Il nome stesso del brano suggerisce a cosa esso si riferisce: Chiaro di Luna. Una ricordo di una bellissima notte d’estate, dove il cielo era cosparso di stelle luccicanti; tra tutte dominava una forte luce bianca: la luna. Ecco l’introduzione al brano. Piano piano i ricordi, le sensazioni, le emozioni di quella notte si fanno più vicini. Fino a rivivere quei bellissimi attimi con il pensiero… La felicità irrompe tutt’un tratto… La voglia di esplodere, l’accumulo di energia… BAM! Ed ecco l’esplosione. Non forte, ma delicata dolce, bella, MAGICA. Ma come tutto è venuto piano sparisce quella sensazione bellissima e si trasforma in un misto di amarezza e nostalgia. L’animo umano, quasi spezzato dal dolore di non poter rivivere quella sensazione si spegne dopo aver ricevuto la spinta di un soffio (l’accordo finale)… Salutando così la vita per sempre.

Questo brano tocca fortemente chiunque lo ascolti. Diverse volte è stato infatti utilizzato come colonna sonora da film (ultimo caso è quello di Twilight). Il compositore, Claude Debussy, scrisse il brano per pianoforte solo; adesso è stato trascritto per ogni strumento e formazione. Il video di Youtube qui sotto è molto bello, mostra l’evoluzione del pezzo mediante le tracce midi.

Angelo Lippolis

The following is the contents of the 1964 Programme, held by Bayan Northcott and photographed when I visited him.

[p 1]

Wardour Castle

Concerts and Lectures

16–22 August 1964

President Michael Tippett

Musical Director Harrison Birtwistle

Price 5’-

[p 2]

[map of Tisbury]

[p 3]

Contents

Acknowledgements                        4

The Composers and Artists            5

Programmes

16 August            Lecture            13

Concert            13

17 August            Recital            19

Concert            19

18 August            Lecture            25

Concert            25

19 August            Recital            31

Discussion            31

20 August            Recital            37

Lecture            37

21 August            Concert            41

22 August            Concert            41

[p 4]

Acknowledgements

We would like to thank the Headmistress, Miss C. B. Galton, and the Governors of Cranborne Chase School for kindly allowing us to use the Castle, both for the Concerts and the Summer School; and the following people for their invaluable assistance:

Mrs. M. I. Mackintosh

Honorary Secretary

Mr. H. O. Young

Honorary Treasurer

Miss G. Selby-Smith

Honorary Librarian

Mrs. T. Hetherington

Miss Caroline Philips

Mrs. R. Porteous

Mr. Michael Thomas

for the loan of organ and harpsichord

The Revd. C. J. Godfrey

for the use of Donhead St. Andrew parish church

The Ministry of Works

for the permission to use the grounds of the Old Castle

Cover Design and Book            Anthony Denning

Programme Notes                        Anthony Gilbert

[p 5]

Notes on the Composers and Artists

[p 6/7]

Harrison Birtwistle

was born in 1934; he studied at the Royal Manchester College of Music and subsequently at the Royal Academy of Music. He is now teaching music at Cranborne Chase School. His works include: Refrains and Choruses, performed 1959 Cheltenham Festival; Music for Sleep, a work for children; Chorales for Orchestra; The World is Discovered, performed at this year’s I.S.C.M. Festival; Entr’acts and Sappho Fragments, performed at this year’s Cheltenham Festival; and Three Movement with Fanfares, commissioned by The Worship Company of Musicians for this year’s City of London Festival

Peter Maxwell Davies

was born in Manchester in 1934, and studied  1952-57 at Manchester University, and Manchester College of Music; 1957-58, Italian Government Scholarship; studied composition with Petrassi in Rome. Director of Music at the Grammar School, Cirencester, and for the past 18 months he has been at Princeton, New Jersey. His works include: Sonata for Trumpet and Piano, 1955; Five Piano Pieces, 1956; Alma Redemptoris Mater, 1957; St. Michael, for wind instruments first performed at the Cheltenham Festival, 1957; Prolation, for orchestra, 1958; Five Motets for a capella choir, 1959; O Magnum Mysterium, for choir, instruments and organ, 1960. His Sinfonia was presented at the Cheltenham Festival by the English Chamber Orchestra in 1962

Anthony Gilbert

was born in London in 1934. He started to study music in 1958; harmony and counterpoint with Anthony Milner; composition briefly with Mátyás Seiber; then since 1959 with Alexander Goehr. Works include: a Duo for Violin and Viola, a Serenade for Six Instruments (commissioned by the S.P.N.M.); and a recently completed Mass for choir and brass.

Alexander Goehr

was born in 1932 in Berlin. Son of the conductor Walter Goehr. Was brought to England as a baby and educated. Studied composition at Royal Manchester College of Music with Richard Hall, and in 1954 was awarded a French Government Scholarship and student at the Paris Conservatoire with Olivier Messiaen and Yvonne Loriod. For some years taught at Morley College and now works part time at the B.B.C., and its chairman of the Society for the Promotion of New Music. Principal works include: Sonata for Piano, The Deluge; Cantata after Leonardo da Vinci; Suters Gold; Cantata on a text by Eisenstein; Violin Concerto; and Little Symphony.

Michael Tippett

was born in 1905, and at the age of 18 entered the Royal College of Music where he studied composition with Charles Wood and R. O. Morris, and conducting with Sir Adrian Boult and Sir Malcolm Sargent. In the early ‘forties he was the Musical Director of Morley College and was closely associated with Walter Goehr, who have many first performances of his music from this period. Works from this period were: Concerto for Double String Orchestra; an Oratorio; A Child of Our Time; and the First Symphony. In 1953 Covent Garden gave the first performance of his first opera, A Midsummer Marriage. In 1953 his second opera, King Priam, was given its first performance in Coventry, late at Covent Garden. This Piano Sonata to be played tonight was written shortly after “King Priam” and was given its first performance by Margaret Kitchin.

Hugh Wood

was born near Wigan in Lancashire in 1932. He started to study music when he was 22; academic work with Dr. Lloyd Webber and later with Anthony Milner; composition with Iain Hamilton and then with Mátyás Seiber. His compositions include: a set of variations for viola and piano; instrumental songs to texts by Christopher Logue; a trio for flute, viola and piano; quartets, the second of which was commissioned by the B.B.C. for the 1962 Cheltenham Festival. Several of these pieces have been broadcast. He has taught at Morley College for five years and also, latterly, at the Royal Academy of Music. He is married to the pianist Susan McGaw.

[p. 8/9]

Richard Adeney

wad born in London in 1920. He studied music at Dartington Hall and the Royal College of Music. He is now the principal flute of the London Philharmonic Orchestra and English Chamber Orchestra. Hs is unmarried and keenly interested in photography.

Lucy Berthoud

was born in Hertfordshire in 1942. Three years later she went to live in New York and there, at the age of 11, started to learn the flute with Ruth Freeman of the Julliard School of Music. When she was 17 she came to England and studied at the Royal Academy of Music with Derek Honner; in 1963-64 she went to Paris to study with Fernand Caratgé

John Carewe

was born in 1934 and studied with Roger Desormiere, Walter Goehr and Olivier Messiaen. For several years assisted John Pritchard with the Musica Viva Concerts in Liverpool, and has appeared as conductor with principal orchestras in this country. Is particularly interested in performance of new music and has given many first performances of works by young English composers.

Lamar Crowson

was born in American but completed his musical training with Arthur Benjamin at the Royal College of Music, with he is now professor of the piano. Among the many awards he has won are the Chappell Gold Medal, the Harriet Cohen International Medal and two first prizes for chamber music at the Munich International Competition. His is will known for his solo and chamber music productions.

Barbara Elsie

was born in Yorkshire in 1938 and at the age of 16 won a three-year Scholarship to the Guildhall School of Music in London. Her teacher was Winifred Radford, with whom she still works. Her oratorio repertoire is extensive and she performs regularly with principal choral societies in Great Britain. Since her first important engagement at York Minister in 1959 she has broadcast a cantata for her, and consequently she was invited to take part in the first performance of his opera “English Eccentrics,” which had u

Osian Ellis

was born in Flintshire. He started to play the harp at the age of 10 and at 17 he won scholarships which took him to the Royal Academy of Music, where he is now a professor. He has brought the harp into great prominence with his concert appearances, recitals and broadcasts, and he has taken part in most of the major European festivals. His performance of Ravel’s Introduction and Allegro with the Melos Ensemble was awarded a Premier Prix in 1962 by the French Society of Authors and Editors of Music. Ossian Ellis is an authority on Welsh Folk Music.

Emanuel Hurwitz

was born and educated in England. At the age of 14 he won the Bronislaw-Hubermann Scholarship for the Royal Academy of Music which was adjudicated by Hubermann in person. In 1939 he became the youngest member of the London Philharmonic Orchestra; he has played solos and obligatos with his orchestras and has always been singled out by the critics for his excellent performances. Since the war he has been leader of the Jacques Orchestra and is now leader of the English Chamber Orchestra. In 1954 he formed a string ensemble which has gained considerable success playing music of the seventeenth-eighteenth centuries. He has been a member of the Melos Ensemble since 1955.

[p 10/11]

Margaret Kitchin

was born in Switzerland and studied with Jacqueline Blancard. She has played all over Europe, giving recitals and as a soloist with all the leading orchestras, playing classical and many modern works in which she specialises. She has given many first performance of modern works, including the Piano Sonata by Alexander Goehr, and work by Ian Hamilton, Peter Maxwell Davies, Peter Racine Fricker, etc.

Susan McGaw

studied at the Royal Academy of Music where she son the Liszt Scholarship and many other prizes. On leaving she won a Caird Scholarship and one from the French Government, and studied in Paris for two years with Yvonne Lefébure Since returning she has played regularly in London and the provinces. She is a frequent broadcaster. He husband is Hugh Wood. They have a son and daughter.

Gervase de Peyer

was a scholar at the Royal College of Music and completed his studying under Frederick Thurston in 1958. He has played for many of the London symphony and chamber orchestras and is at present principal clarinet in the London Symphony Orchestra. He is well known as a soloist and has performed with nearly all the major orchestras in the country under many well known conductors. He has also appeared at many festivals, including Edinburgh and Holland. He has made records for Decca, H.M.V., l’Oiseau Lyre and Parlophone.

Neill Sanders

was born in London in 1923, son of violinist, and has a brother who plays the flute. He won an open scholarship to the Royal College of Music in 1939, after which he did a season with the Scottish Orchestra before becoming principal horn with the L.S.O. He spent seven years with Denniss Brian in the Philharmonia Orchestra and is at present co-principal in the B.B.C. Symphony Orchestra.

Michael Thomas

is at present recording concerts and making permanent recordings of music of keyboard instruments of exceptional historical importance on the continent and in England and Ireland. During the past few years he has recorded recitals on most of the famous old harpsichords, organs and clavichords. He is a person who has made the most thorough study of the technique, phrasing and ornamentation of old music and has, through his long experience and experiments with old instruments, learned how these techniques may best be applied to the old instruments that were used in historical times.

Terence Weil

studied at the Royal Academy of Music, where he won numerous prizes for Chamber Music including the Sir Edward Cooper prize. He was a member of the Hurwitz String Quartet until it disbanded in 1951. He has been principal ‘cello of many chamber orchestras but is at present free-lancing. He is a founder member of the Melos Ensemble.

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[advertisement, Universal Edition, for the path to the new music by Anton Webern]

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Sunday 16th August

5.0 p.m. Lecture

in the Assembly Room

8.30 p.m. Concert

in the Assembly Room

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Music in Our Time

Lecture 5.0 p.m.

ALEXANDER GOEHR will lecture on certain aspects of contemporary music with particular reference to works being performed in the evening concert.

Concert 8.30 p.m.

Introduced by MICHAEL TIPPETT

A concert of contemporary English Music

Promoted by: Institute of Contemporary Arts.

Society for the Promotion of New Music

Barbara Elsie            Soprano

Margaret Kitchin            Pianoforte

Peter Maxwell Davies            Pianoforte

Richard Adeney            Flute

Gervase de Peyer            Clarinet

Neill Sanders            Horn

Osian Ellis            Harp

Emmanuel Hurwitz            Violin

Terence Weil            ‘Cello

John Carewe            Conductor

Three Piano Pieces, op.5            Hugh Wood

These pieces were written for my wife to play, the first for a Wigmore Hall recital in January 1961, and the whole set for a midday recital at the 1963 Cheltenham Festival. the first, Lento, consists of a long tune with rises to a climax, after which some introductory material is heard again. The second, Energico, is the longest of the three, a rondo with episodes and an introduction; the first episode features constant trills, the second is lyrical, in a slower tempo. The main theme appears in a different register each time. The third piece, Calmo, is very short, reminiscent in its materials, valedictory in its nature.

[p 16]

Monody for Corpis Christi Harrison Birtwistle

[lyrics reproduced in original]

The first movement is a simple arch whose main member is the vocal line (to which all other parts are embellishments and from which they may be said to stem). Its rise and descent are emphasized by the gradual addition of instruments from the beginning and their subtraction towards the end, and by the gradually increasing complexity of the instrumental episodes separating the couplets.

This movement leads without a break into an instrumental fantasia Quasi fanfara in contrasting sections, at first very short and static, then longer and more flowing, the whole serving as a transition between the different levels of tension of the two movements for voice.

The third movement follows without interruption and again the overall form is very simple. Each stanza grows in intensity towards its end; in between the two there is a brief instrumental episode ending with a flute cadenza.

Sonata for Piano Anthony Gilbert

This sonata was written in 1961-62 and was first performed by Margaret Kitchin at the S.P.N.M. Cheltenham Festival concert in 1962. There are three movements:

1. Vivace. The overall shape is that of classical sonata form with two contrasting subject-groups, a bipartite section of development in which each group is treated in accordance with its individual character, and an elliptical reprise and coda.

2. Cantilena is a simple, song-type movement in three sections of continuous variation. The middle section, characterized by a pedal, forms a central point of repose for the whole sonata, while the third part recalls the other two and has the function of a coda.

[p 17]

3. Scherzo. This opens with two contrasting motifs and the first part of the movement is concerned with their development and gradual integration. As they become more completely combined the section reaches a climax which triggers off Trio 1, a set of short variations on a rhythmic motif. After a short link using first-section material there follows Trio 2, which is free and rhapsodic in character, and has echoes of the first and second movements. The final section is a telescoped and varied version of the first.

Sonata No.2 for Piano Michael Tippett

This Sonata was written early in 1962 and first performed by Margaret Kitchin at the

Edinburgh Festival of that year. It is in one continuous movement.

Composed very shortly after the completion of “King Priam,” the sonata derives form from the dramatic structure of at opera, and some of its materials from the orchestral piano part. It constitutes a complete departure from normal sonata procedure in that there is virtually no development; the sonata grows by statement – the constant addition of new material and by variation and repetition of material previously given. Constant use is made of new materials and by variation and repetition of material previously given. Constant use is made of contrasts: contrasts of texture, contrasts of tempi and timbres and contrasts between static and dynamic. Towards the end the phrases and motifs get shorter and tension grows until the final page, which is a coda concerned with the elimination of the principal motifs.

INTERVAL (25 minutes)

Five Little Pieces Peter Maxwell Davies

(first performance)

The five little piano pieces were composed between 1960 and 1962.

Suite, op. 11            Alexander Goehr

This work was commissioned by the Aldeburgh Festival Committee for the Melos Ensemble who gave its first performance in June, 1961. The object was to produce a piece of light, serenade-like character with an important part for flute and harp. There are five movements.

The first is a quick movement in three main sections. The first and second of these alternate two sharply distinguished types of material in continually varied forms; the third in contrast is a flowing section for solo flute with string accompaniment. There are two repeats: the first section is played again immediately, and the second again after the third.

The second movement is an Intermezzo for harp in improvisatory style. The structural principle is the note-by-note changing of two superimposed chords by pedal shifts.

The third movement is a Scherzo. This is very lightly scored, being almost all in one part over a pedal. Of its two main motifs, the first on the ‘cello is recognisable as the clarinet motif from the first movement in equal notes. Its “head” is used throughout the movement as a sort of punctuation mark dividing sections. The Trio comes right at the end and is for the three stringed instruments only; finally there is an eight-bar coda on scherzo material.

The fourth movement is an Arietta for solo flute, backed by a horn pedal of three notes, with brief answering figures on viola, ‘cello and harp.

The finale is a true Quodlibet in which short blocks of material from all the previous movements are juxtaposed mosaic-wise. There are two cadenzas: one for flute on Scherzo material, and one for harp on Trio material. The whole is held together by a horn-call which recurs like a rondo-theme, and whose origins are revealed to the sharp ear on its final appearance.

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[Advertisement for UE composers Harrison Birtwistle and Hugh Wood]

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Monday, 17th August

5.0 p.m. RECITAL

in the Old Kitchen

8.30 p.m. CONCERT

in the Assembly Room

[p 20/21]

Early Organ Music            Recital 5.0 p.m.

Peter Maxwell Davies will introduce and play early music on a newly restored Snitzler organ. Works by: Dunstable, Taverner, Byrd, Tomkins, Gabrielli, Scheidt, Zipoli etc.

The Organ

The organ belongs to Peter Maxwell Davies and was made by Snitzler in 1768.

Snitzler’s soundboards have little pallets directly under the keys which are operated by a pin on the underside of the key, thus giving an extremely light and responsive touch. The disadvantage of this method is that the wind channels are small, so that it is only possible to play three or four rows of pipes at once.

This organ originally possessed an ordinary stopped Diapason 8’, and open Diapason 8’ which contrasted with it, a Dulciana with tongues and beards, and a very small scale, also 8’, and small Dulciana Principle: the effect was rather soft and lacked virility. The pipes were therefore transposed to give a stopped Diapason and Principle, and the Dulcianas became the 12th and 15th. In this way the incisive Snitzler tone was immediately regained.

Chamber Concert            8.30 p.m.

Melos Ensemble

Lamar Crowson            Piano

Gervase de Peyer            Clarinet

Emmanuel Hurwitz            Violin

Neill Sanders            Horn

Terence Weil            ‘Cello

Pianoforte Trio in F sharp minor Haydn

Haydn’s Piano Trios belong rather to his piano music than to that for string ensemble. The keyboard plays a dominant part in all of them and the use of the violin, and particularly the ‘cello, is held by some authorities to be optional. The first editions describe them as “Sonatas pour le piano-forte avec accompagnement de violon et violoncello,” and the violin rarely goes above 2nd position, the ‘cello merely duplicating the bass of the piano.

This interesting work is one of a group of three composed in or before 1795 and dedicated to his English friend, Mrs. Schroeter.

There are three movements, the first of which, a sonata allegro, is notable for its wealth but as it reaches the dominant cadence it acquires a minor flavour, providing an excuse to plunge straight into A for the middle section. The procedure in reverse brings back the tonic towards the end.

The Finale is a Minuet in F-sharp minor of great beauty, with a trio consisting of the same material transplanted to the tonic major. Without going beyond the canons of Haydn’s normal minuet procedure, it provided a most satisfactory ending to the work.

[p 22]

Six Little Piano Pieces, op. 19            Schoenberg

Light, tender

Slow.

Very slow.

Quick, but light.

Somewhat quick.

Very slow.

The first five of these pieces were written on 19th February, 1911; the sixth was written in June, just four weeks after the death of Mahler, to whom it constitutes a kind of epitaph.

Around this time perhaps more than at any other period Schoenberg was preoccupied with problems of form – particularly of finding more appropriate vessels for his rapidly evolving atonality. There is no doubt that he was struck by the aphoristic manner of Webern’s op. 6, and particularly of the violin pieces op. 7, to the extent of being impelled to see what possibilities the very short form held for himself.

In addition, in these little pieces we find him for the first time calling into question the traditional relationship between melody and accompaniment, and investigating the possibility of more interesting functions for the latter. So, for example, in Nos. 1, 2 and 4 it becomes merely an extension or feature of the melody, serving to heighten its expressiveness in various ways, and No. 6, the strangest piece of all, is concerned with the almost elimination of both elements.

Seven Sketches, op. 9            Bartok

These piano pieces were composed between 1908-10, and are, in a way, a diary of Bartók’s development as a composer in these years. The first ones reflect his early preoccupation with western mannerisms – particularly impressionism; the later ones show his growing interest in the folk-idioms of his own land.

1. Portrait of a Young Girl: to wit, Marta Ziegler, its dedicatee, whom he married in 1909. A short piece in ternary form, betraying the influence of, surprisingly enough, Busoni in its harmonic style and its treatment of material.

2. A Swing. Two motifs are used in alternation: the first a rocking, polytonal figure, the second a bagpipe tune in not quite a whole tone scale.

3. is dedicated to Mr. and Mrs. Z. Kodály. The lack of title emphasizes Bartòk’s abandonment of impressionism; the piece is simply a rhapsodic melody unfolded in rubato-parlando style over an accompaniment of major tenths.

4. is another rhapsodic piece. After an 11-bar introduction a Hungarian-style melody is presented in varied forms over a florid accompaniment.

5. A Rumanian Folk Melody, and 6., a dance in the Valachian manner, are still closer to popular sources, and foreshadow the Bartók of Mikrokosmos.

7. In this piece, perhaps the most interesting of all the Sketches, brief modal phrases succeed one another with striking juxtapositions of tonality; there is a gradual metamorphosis to irregular rhythms and whole-tone scales, and in the long code to note-clusters.

Première Rhapsodie for clarinet and piano            Debussy

This piece was written in 1910 as a test piece for clarinet competitions at the Conservatoire at which it was Debussy’s duty to adjudicate. It was subsequently orchestrated (the style of the accompaniment seems to indicate that this was his intention all along) and in this form is said to have been regarded by Debussy as one of the most pleasing pieces he had written.

It is freely constructed (as befits a Rhapsody) from static blocks of contrasting material in three main categories: slow and dreamy, poco mosso and scherzando, sharply juxtaposed or joined by brief linking passages.

Four Pieces for clarinet and piano, op.5             Berg

These pieces were written in the summer of 1913, and are dedicated to Schoenberg’s “Society for Private Performances,” under whose auspices they were first played more than six years later. Their epigrammatic style is an untypical of Berg as Schoenberg’s op. 19, their obvious model, is of him.

1. The clarinet’s opening six-note figure is a skilful simultaneous exposition of all the motivic elements of the piece, which in any case all spring from the single governing principle of intervallic expansion. Its form is very simple – the piano and clarinet move in opposite directions to the central climax which is held for two bard and then quickly falls away to a code of static harmonies.

2. This utilizes the same motivic elements as No. 1 in a pianissimo conflict between two kinds of ostinato accompaniment in the piano and a simple melodic line in the clarinet. The climax is expressed without rising above p, simply being the point at which the conflict resolves in favour of one of the ostinati.

3. Another very quiet piece, falling into four sharply contrasted sections, the first two quick and nervous, the third slow and flowing and the fourth an elliptical reprise and headlong code to be played as quickly and quietly as possible.

4. This piece takes farther the idea inherent in No. 3. The contrasted sections, each characterized by a different ostinato, are again present (though the speeds are the reverse of those in No. 3); likewise the sonata-like reprise before the code. Now, however, in spite of the ostinato, the piece is not static: it is aimed at the explosive climax which ends the first part of the code. The coda proper is simply three bars of echo.

INTERVAL (25 minutes)

[p 24]

Fantasia in C minor, K475            Mozart

This piece, written in 1875 for his gifted pupil Thérèse von Trattner, is one of four Fantasias for the piano composed in Mozart’s later years. It was customary for him to precede performances of his sonatas with an improvised introduction in the same key; the present Fantasia, published by Mozart as a prelude to the Sonata K457, may be taken as a fairly close indication of the nature of these improvisations.

It is made up of five contrasted open-ended sections: the first Adagio, the second a D major episode in the same tempo, the third a stormy Allegro in two halves, linked by a brief cadenza to the fourth, Andantino in B-flat; the fifth is another stormy Allegro. The whole is rounded off by a recapitulation and code on first-section material.

The organization of keys is interesting. The first, third and fifth sections are unstable and constantly modulating, any affirmations of the home (or any) key being rigorously avoided. The second and fourth are anchor sections firmly in keys two removes [sic] from home on the dominant and the subdominant sides respectively – so that the acute ear may sense an implied tonic midway between. However, not until the final section is the home key reached and established.

Trio for Piano, Violin and Horn, op.40            Brahms

This is one of a group of works composed after Brahms’ resignation in 1864 as Director of the Vienna Choral Society. It is a very much a horn trio; the horn part is as it were the backbone of the work, and the character of all the melodic material is determined by its appropriateness to that instrument.

The first movement is an Andante of unusual design, with boldly planned key relationships. There are two balancing sections, each in two contrasting parts, organised as follows: Andante in E-flat (2/4 time); poco più animato in C minor and G minor (9/8); Andante in E-flat; poco più animato in E-flat minor and B-flat minor, leading to a final Andante in G-flat which modulates back to the home key at the final climax.

The Scherzo begins with a long (12-bar) upbeat to the principal motif, whose four bars of 2/4 rhythm in 3 contrast strikingly with the overall 3/4 pulse.  The whole of the first section is built up from the material of these first 16 bars – a secondary motif given out by the horn on the next page plays little part in the growth of the movement. The Trio in the subdominant minor is less exuberant and decisive in character; the melody owes its outline to the “upbeat” motif of the previous section. After 76 bars uninterrupted by any form of full cadence the Scherzo is given de capo.

In the third movement, Adagio mesto in E-flat minor, there are four sections whose exact symmetry and the economy of whose material are belied by the flowing, almost rhapsodic manner in which the music unfolds.

The Finale is a lively movement in sonata form, through whose many modulations the horn is handled with such adroitness that accidentals seldom appear in the part.

[p 25]

Tuesday, 18th August

5.0 p.m. Lecture

in the Assembly Room

8.30 p.m. Concert

in the Assembly Room

[p 26/27]

Quartet for the End of Time            Lecture 5.0 p.m.

Olivier Messiaen, the Man and His Music

given by Hugh Wood

Concert 8.30 p.m.

Members of the Melos Ensemble

Emmanuel Hurwitz            Violin [viola]

Gervase de Peyer            Clarinet

Terence Weil            Violoncello

Lamar Crowson            Pianoforte

Clarinet Trio in E flat K498            Mozart

Andante;

Menuetto;

Rondo – Allegretto

The year 1786 was a trying one for Mozart. He was heavily in debt, his newly completed Marriage of Figaro had been withdrawn after only nine performances, and he had lost his third son. Nevertheless in the space of only six months he managed to turn out eight masterpieces, of which this Trio is one. It was written for his friends Francisca Jacquin and Anton Stadler with Mozart himself playing the viola part.

The unusual choice of instruments gives a mellow, closely-knit ensemble capable of considerable expressive power, and it was no doubt with this possibility in mind that Mozart made the first movement an andante rather than an allegro, almost – but not quite – discarding the sonata in favour of the song-form. The movement grows continuously from the motif in the first bar, and very little other material is introduced,

The second movement is a vigorous Minuet with a Trio effectively contrasting the timbres of the clarinet and viola in dialogue.

The theme of the final Rondo springs from a fragment of the “2nd subject” in the first movement. Little important music is given to the viola in the first section, in order to heighten the effect of its striking C-minor entry in the second episode. Save for a few bars of A-flat melody in the central part, its rôle is secondary until nearly the end, during a final brilliant reworking of the Rondo theme.

[p 28]

Four Impromptus, op. 142            Schubert

This is the style under which, mainly for commercial reasons. Schubert published the first of four piano sonatas written during the last 10 months of his life. And although undeniably a sonata of sorts, there is a certain looseness about its construction which suits its new name better.

For instance, in the first movement, Allegro moderato, there is an F-minor first subject and an A-major second subject, but where we might expect a development there is a longish passage of new material which moves into all sorts of interesting keys but does not grow. This innovation is taken a step further when the passage is reintroduced in the recapitulation, and at last Schubert’s scheme – a simple binary form – becomes apparent.

The second movement, Allegretto, is a Sarabande and trio going hand in hand with the first movement in key and character.

The third, Andante, is a set of variations on a tune from Rosamunde.

The finale, Allegro Scherzando, is in clearly defined ABA form, but the manner of organising the material in the outer sections gives it certain Rondo characteristics. It is perhaps the most imaginative of the movement. Cross-rhythms abound, the harmonic structure is striking, and the lead back from the central to the final section is magical.

INTERVAL (25 minutes)

Quatuor pour la fin du temps Olivier Messiaen

“And I saw another might angel come down from heaven, clothed with a cloud, and a rainbow was on his head, and his face was as the sun, and his feet were as pillars of fire… and he set his right foot upon the sea, and his left foot upon the earth… and standing upon the sea and upon the earth, lifted up his head to heaven; and he swore by him that liveth for ever… that time shall be no longer; but in the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he shall begin to sound the trumpet, the mystery of God shall be finished…” (Apocalypse of St. Jonn, Chapter X).

Conceived and written during my captivity, the Quatuor pour la fin du temps was first performed in Stalag Villa on 15th January, 1941, by Jean le Boulaire (violin), Henri Akoka (clarinet), Etienne Pasquier (‘cello) and myself on the piano. It was directly inspired by the above quotation from the Apocalypse. Its musical language is essentially immaterial, spiritual, catholic. Modes which, melodically and harmonically, realize a kind of tonal ubiquity, being the listener nearer to eternity in space or the infinite. Special rhythms, not bound by regular metre, powerful serve to put the temporal at a distance. (All this is but mere tentative stammering if one thinks of the overwhelming grandeur of its subject).

This “Quartet” is in eight movements. Why so? Seven is the perfect number, the six days of creation sanctified by the divine Sabbath; the seven of rest extends into eternity and becomes the eight of undecaying light, of unalterable peace.

1. “Liturgy of Crystal.” Between three and four in the morning, the birds awaken: a blackbird or solo nightingale improvises, surrounded by a fine sprinkling of sound, a halo of trills lost high in the treetops. Transfer this to the religious place, and you have the harmonious silence of heaven.

2. “Vocalise, for the Angel who announces the end of Time.” The first and third parts (very short) evoke the power of this mighty angel arrayed in cloud with a rainbow upon his head, who places one foot upon the sea and the other foot upon the land. The “middle section” depicts the impalpable harmonic of heaven. Gentle cascades of orange-blue chords on the piano surround with their distant carillon quasi-plainchant recitatives on violin and ‘cello.

3. “Abyss of the birds.” Clarinet solo. The abyss is Time, with its sadness, its wearinesses. The birds are the opposite of Time; they are our desire for light, stars, rainbows and paeans of jubilation.

4. “Interlude.” A Scherzo, more extrovert in character than the previous movement, but linked with them, nevertheless, by a number of melodic “reminders.”

5. “Praise to the Eternity of Jesus.” Jesus is considered here as the Word. A long ‘cello phrase, infinitely slow, magnifies with love and reverence the eternity of this might and gently Word, “whose years shall never be exhausted.” Majestically the melody spreads out, into the tender and sovereign distance. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”

6. “Dance of fury for the seven trumpets.” Rhythmically, this is the most characteristic piece of the set. The four instruments playing in unison take on the sound of gongs and trumpets (the first six trumpets of the apocalypse following by various catastrophes, the trumpet of the seventh angel announcing the consummation of the mystery of God. Use is made of added values, augmented or diminished rhythms, and non-retrogradable rhythms. Stone music, formidable granitic sound; the irresistible movement of steel, enormous blocks of purple fury, glacial drunkenness. Listen above all to the terrible fortissimo augmentation of the theme with its notes all changed in register which comes towards the end of the piece.

7. “A confusion of rainbows, for the Angel who announced the end of Time.” Certain passages for the second movement return here. The almighty Angel appears, and so, particularly, does the rainbow which he wears (the rainbow, symbol of peach, goodness, and of all vibration in light and sound). In my dreams I hear and see groups of chords and melodies, known colours and shapes; then after this transitory phase I move into the unreal and experience with ecstasy a whirling and mingling together of superhuman sounds and chords. These fiery swords, these torrents of blue-orange lava, these sudden starts: these are confusions, these are rainbows.

8. “Praise to the Immortality of Jesus.” A broad violin solo, acting as pendant  to the ‘cello solo of the 5th movement. Why this second praise? It is addressed more particularly to the second aspect of Jesus, to Jesus the Man, to the Word made flesh, returning immortal to give us His life. It is all love. Its slow climb to the heights is the ascension of man towards his God, of the child of God towards its Father, of the beatified creatures towards Paradise.

– And I say again what I said above: “all thus us but mere tentative stammering if one thinks of the overwhelming grandeur of its subject.’

(Notes translated from score by Anthony Gilbert)

[p 30]

At the age of 56, Olivier Messiaen is almost certainly the most distinguished composer working in Europe today. He was born in 1908 at Avignon, song of a Shakespearean scholar and a poetess. He entered the Paris Conservatoire when he was only 11, and there studied the organ under Marcel Dupré, theory under Maurice Emmanuel and composition under Paul Dukas. At 18 he won the first prize for counterpoint and fugue, and he went on to win first prizes for piano accompaniment, organ playing, improvisation, music history and composition. His first mature work was, like so much of his later output, for the organ: Le Banquet Céleste, written in 1928. The Eight Preludes for piano followed in 1929: it was on the recommendation of Dukas that they were published. In 1931 he was appointed organist at the Great Organ of Holy Trinity, Paris. Other works of these years include Les Offrandes oubliées, L’Ancension, the Theme and Variations for Violin and Piano, and the Nativité du Seigneur cycle for organ. In 1936 he appeared as the leader of a group of young musicians calling themselbes “La Jeune France,” the other being André Jolivet, Daniel Lesur and Yves Baudrier. In this year also he was appointed professor at the Ecole Normale and at the Schola Cantorum. Works 1936-39: Poemes pour Mi, Chants de terre et de ciel, and the Corps glorieué for organ.

Messiaen enlisted at the beginning of the war and was taken prisoner during the fall of France in 1940. It was in a German prison camp in Silesia that he wrote the Quatuor pour la fin du temps (1941). This work was the harbinger of the most prolific period of his career. He was repatriated to occupied France and then wrote the Visions de l’Amen for two pianos, for Trios petites liturgies de la Présence Divine (the first work of his to become widely known after the war), the immense piano work Vignt regards sur l’Enfant Jésus, the similarly large-scale song-cycle Harawi, and then his chef d’oeuvre the Turangalila Symphony. This was written in 1946-48 and has been performed many times all over Europe and in America since its first performance in Boston in 1949. In 1953 and 1954 two performance took place in London, conducted by Walter Goehr. The work has recently been recorded.

On his return to France, Messiaen had been appointed professor of harmony at the Conservatoire, and before the end of the war a lively group of young pupils had gathered themselves round him, including the 19-year-old Pierre Boulez. The title of his appointment was changed in 1947 to that of Professor of Aesthetics, rhythmic studies and of the analysis class; a wider range of pupils now included Karheinz Stockhausen, Jean Barraque, Yannis Xenakis and Gilbert Amy. During the years 1947-53 Messiaen gave classes at various musical centres, including Budapest, Sarrebruck, Tanglewood and Darmstadt. His Quatre Etudes de rhythme for piano was begun on Darmstaft in 1949, and this work has had a great influence on composers of the Darmstadt circle. Other works of this time: Canteyodjaya for piano; the Cinq Rechants for choir; the Messe de la Pentecote for organi; Le Merle Noir for flute and piano; and the Livre d’orgue.

During the last 10 years Messiaen’s name has become well-known all over the world and his importance recognised as one of the sources of new musical thought. Latterly his works are even to be heard in England, where in particular his organ music now received regular performances. A recent group of works springs from the composer’s lifelong preoccupation with bird-song: the Réveil des oiseaux (1953) for piano and orchestra; the Oiseaux exotiques (1956) for piano, wind ensemble and percussion, and the piano work Catalogue d’oiseaux (1959). More recent still is Chronochromie (1960), an important work for large orchestra, and the Haikai for piano and clarinet solo and chamber ensemble (1962).

Hugh Wood

[p 31]

Wednesday, 19th August

5.0 p.m. Recital

in the Old Kitchen

8.30 p.m. Discussion

in the Assemble Room

[p 32/33]

Flute and Harpsichord

Recital 5.0 pm

Lucy Berthoud            Flute

Michael Thomas            Harpsichord

Suite in D Major            Rameau

Sonata in B Minor            J. S. Bach

Ordre in B Minor            Couperin

Sonata No. 6 in E Minor            J. S. Bach

Rameau and Couperin

Couperin (Le Grand), 1668-1733. His music for clavecin was called “Ordres,” another name for suite. They were published between 1713-30 with varying numbers of movements, some with 10 or 15 and the longest 23. He was a master of a musical miniature and pieces include portrait studies and nature sketches, e.g. Les Tricoteuses and Les Petits Moulins a Vent.

Rameau, 1683-1764. He was the most prominent figure of his day in French opera but won fame in all musical arts including writing for the clavecin in which he followed Couperin. Picturesque titles of his music for harpsichord include La Poule and Les Tourbillons.            G.S.S.

Flute Sonatas J.S. Bach

Bach wrote six flute sonatas, the first three have a fully written up part for the right hand of the harpsichord and can, therefore, be regarded as trio sonatas with the harpsichord playing the solo melodic part as well as the base. No. 1 in B minor has a long first movement marked andante in which the flute and the harpsichord alternate in a long melodic line and, of course, often play the two subjects against each other. Indeed both subjects are played together in the very first line. The faster semiquaver subject can really be regarded as two parts in quavers, as is so common in much of Bach’s music, which looks like a single part. It contains no harmony but tonic and dominant till the third bar. The harmony changes abruptly when a chromatic movement is introduced. This is, of course, developed in the course of the movement. The middle section of the movement is a much lighter subject in quick moving triplets. This is perhaps the longest and one of the most beautiful movements in all the Bach sonatas. The 2nd movement, a largo, is really a development form the siciliano but considerable complications and additions have arisen in the rhythm by the second bar. The 3rd movement is a short movement marked presto and starts with a canon with the harpsichord following the flute nine bars later. This time there is a chromatic climbing movement. The movement is in the form of a fughetta without cadence to the end. The last movement is a jig but of the highly developed type and note suitable for dancing in so far as the first beat of the three semiquavers instead of being an articulated down beat is actually a sustained syncopation in the very first bar. Again this contains a canon but it is at the unison pitch instead of at the 5th, the harpsichord entering in the fourth bar. Bach’s flute sonata No. 6 begins with an adagio but which is a completely expressive work and it would be difficult to say that it was closely related to any of the dance movement but bears more resemblance to a slow movement by Quantz. The 2nd movement is allegro in straight-forward binary form and in the Italian style. The 3rd movement is again a siciliano. The 4th movement is allegro again in binary form.

[p 34/35]

The Harpsichord

While engaged in restoring harpsichords, Michael Thomas became interested in two types of this instrument, which seemed to him to be particularly fine: one being the Italian and the other the French type.

After much experimenting independent of any specific model, Michael Thomas constructed this instrument in which he has sought to incorporate the best qualities of each type.

He uses the light construction and small bridge found in the Italian model, thus giving it simultaneously a deep hollow resonance and an enormous harmonic range; and by bending the wood of the curved side only as far as it will naturally and easily go, he has obtained the depth of tone of the French instrument. A clear attack on each note is achieved by the use of quills for plucking the harpsichord.

Opera Today            Discussion 8.30 p.m.

Alexander Goehr, Peter Maxwell Davies, Michael Tippett

Chairman: Harrison Birtwistle

Opera Today

Michael Tippett’s activities in the operatic field are already well known to all. His two works for the stage, dating from 1952 and 1961 respectively, for which in both cases he was his own librettist, are among the most striking and original contributions to opera this century.

Peter Maxwell Davies has for the past two years been working on his first opera, based on the life of John Taverner, and now nearing completion.

Alexandr Goehr began, and abandoned, his first opera some years ago. Its subject was the Women of Troy, and a fragment survives in the orchestral work Hecuba’s Lament. His activities in recent months as musical director of various stage productions at the Mermaid Theatre have resulted in his increasing absorption with music on the stage, and he has recently been commissioned to write an opera on the play Arden of Feversham.

[p 36]

[advertisement for Schott’s composers: Banks, Blomdahl, Davies, Franciax, Fricker, Gilbert, Goehr, Hamilton, Hartman, Henze, Hindemith, Huber, Nono, Orff, Rainier, Schoenberg, Schuller, Searle, Seiber, Stravinsky and Tippett.]

[p 37]

Thursday, 20th August

5.0 p.m. Recital

in the Assembly Room

8.30 p.m. Lecture

in the Assembly Room

[p 38/39]

Matinee for Erik Satie            Recital 5.0 p.m.

Susan McGaw            Piano

Four songs without words Mendlessohn

F sharp minor op. 19, no. 5

B minor op.67, no. 5

F minor op. 62, no. 3

A minor op. 38, no. 5

1st Gymnopedies Satie

3rd Gnossiemme Satie

Vieux sequins et Vielles Cuirasses Satie

Passion Sonata no. 6, A major            C. P. E. Bach

Allegro

Adagio

Allegro

Pieces friod 1st set            Satie

Airs a faire fuire Satie

Three songs without words Mendelssohn

G major op. 62, no. 1

D major op. 85, no. 4

A major op. 102, no. 5

Erik Satie: 1866-1925

The amount of discussion of a non-musical nature aroused by Satie’s eccentricities led people for many years almost to forget he was a musician; now, with the arrival of new eccentrics on the musical scene, most people have even forgotten Satie the lunatic. Even when, at the age of 54, he suddenly found himself hailed as leader of the Parisian avant-garde, it was less as a musician than as High Priest of a new aesthetic cult devised by Cocteau that he was worshipped, and rarely at any period since his death have any but a dwindling number of devotees taken the trouble to disregard the funny words and listen simply to his music.

This is a pity, because although undeniably a most interesting character in many ways, it is in the light of his contribution as a composer pure and simple that he new deserves to be considered.

Maybe he never produced a large-scale masterpiece, and maybe his influence is not as profound or as far-reaching as other influences this century; nevertheless, musically he is a true original, and the best of his work has a timeless quality that puts it in another category altogether from all the bizarrerie.

His was a fairly prolific composer, the bulk of his output being for the piano, either solo or duet, and this portion of his work contains his best and most characteristic pieces. Few of them are long; most are in groups, generally of three; and quite often, like the Gymnopédies and the Sarabandes, they are just three ways of looking at the same idea.

He had a way of anticipating points of technique in other composers by some 15 or 20 years. In his earlier piano pieces are to be found harmonic innovations used much later by Debussy and Ravel; slightly later pieces gave Stravinsky his mechanical accompaniment figures, and in later ones still, in particular the “3 Valses du Précieux Dégoûté” and the 20 “Sports et Divertissements,” his masterpiece, we find utilizes Messiaen’s techniques of incantatory repetition and the systematic juxtaposition of brief unrelated phrases.

The groups of pieces we are to hear this afternoon are among his best-known and least-known works. The Gymnopédies were published in 1887 and quickly achieved popularity; Vieux Séquins et Vielles Cuirasses (1914) belongs to a period of advanced buffoonery through which Satie went during the years following his celebrated return to the Schola Cantorum

[p 40/41]

Lecture 8.30 p.m.

Musical Characterization in Mozart Opera

with particular reference to Don Giovanni

Stephen Pruslin, Princeton University

Friday, 21st August

8.30 p.m. Concert

at Old Wardour Castle

Saturday, 22nd August

8.30 p.m. Concert

at Donhead St. Andrew Parish Church

[p 42/43]

Concert 8.30

Nocturnal

A concert in the open air* of English and Italian echo-music from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries for brass and voices.

Given by: Gabrieli Ensemble and Choir conducted by Peter Maxwell Davies, Alexander Goehr.

Music by: Maschera, Isaac, A. and G. Gabrieli, Locke, etc.

* Under cover if wet

Concert 8.30 p.m.

Participants Concert

A concert given by the participants of the summer school

Conductors: John Carewe, Michael Tippett

Morgengesang C. P. E. Bach

Symphony Haydn

Sequentia Sanctia Evangeli Secundam Lucan, in illo Tempore XXII 14-20 Peter Maxwell Davies

(first performance written for the summer school)

Fantasias Gibbons

For these concerts a more comprehensive programme will be available on the day.

El que baila es Nureyev.

No fa gaire, vaig poder visitar l’exposició que l’Obra Social de Caixa Catalunya dedica a Aristides Maillol i que fins al 31 de gener es pot veure a La Pedrera. La mostra em va interessar força perquè s’hi poden veure algunes de les escultures més destacades de l’artista i també exemples de les seves facetes de pintor, il·lustrador o tapisser, entre d’altres.

Una escultura em va interessar per sobre de la resta, la titulada ‘Debussy’. És del 1930 -el compositor francès havia mort el 1918- i està dedicada a un músic al que admirava i que com ell, trobava la inspiració en la natura.

Pomysł prosty i na pewno ktoś już na taki wpadł. Oto lista pięciu utworów muzycznych, które odnoszą się do konkretnych pór dnia. Żeby było ciekawie, listę postanowiłem ograniczyć do muzyki poważnej. Więc proszę nie liczyć na Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight) ani na którąś z pięćdziesięciu piosenek o tytule Sunday Morning. Zaczynamy od świtu:

Świt nad rzeką Moskwą, Modest Musorgski. Początek opery Chowańszczyzna, której nie widziałem, ale ma świetny tytuł. Fragment ten ilustruje najprawdopodobniej świt nad rzeką Moskwą.

Sunday Morning, Benjamin Britten. O, jednak będzie ten tytuł! Jeden z instrumentalnych przerywników Sea Interludes z opery Peter Grimes. Miał być Poranek Griega, ale przez kilka lat miałem to jako budzik w telefonie, więc już mi wystarczy.

Popołudnie fauna, Claude Debussy. Przełomowy utwór – po nim muzyka poważna nie była już nigdy sobą. Nie mylić z “Popołudniem fauny”, popularnym programem przyrodniczym.

Im Abendrot, Richard Strauss. Tytuł “O zmierzchu” oznacza tu wprawdzie ostatnie lata życia. Żeby jednak pasowało do listy, udajmy, że to tylko o tym, jak słonko zachodzi.

Um Mitternacht, Gustav Mahler. W ten oto późnoromantyczny sposób dotarliśmy do północy. Najlepsza pozycja na płycie Mahler Midnight Moods. Nie mylić z piosenką Gib mir, gib mir, gib mir einen Mann nach Mitternacht.

Zachęcam do klikania w linki, póki działają oraz do podawania własnych propozycji.

Animowany obrazek: Nevit Dilmen, Wikimedia Commons.

Isn’t it just so lovely. The playing. The music. Even if it’s not your thing surely you can appreciate this one.

My Motivational Monday now is becoming Musical Monday. I have made a habit of treating myself with beautiful classical music every Monday at the RNCM lunchtime concert.

And in the concert just now, as I was swept away with the beautiful playing, in my mind’s eye, I suddenly saw a  world that is buzzing with creative energy. Where people all coming together to create great works – either in art or science or business. And when they rest, they pray. And, they start working again. For their work, the art, their thought, are all inspired by The One, The Only One. It’s such a vivid visualisation in my head. And it made me feel very happy.

And I have been enjoying my research every day. Today while reading in the library, I thought of how in Malaysia I used to hang around in MPH, browsing their business books, and budgeting my money as I can only spend so much on books. And now, here I am, surrounded by books of every nature, of every kind – and I can just swipe my library card and they are mine! (well, at least for a week).

And then reading messages and comments from friends, I feel warmth and life comes back to me. I don’t even know where to begin to express my gratitude for the few short sentences all of you sent my way. When the cold and loneliness creeps in again, now I have your messages to warm my heart. Thank you all, you beautiful people.

These are the things that made me put everything in perspective. My life in perspective. While there as aspects of my life that I am sad about, there are so many more things that I am just so blessed with. How can I complaint for long? How can I be ungrateful?

Thank you again, alhamdulillah.

The combination of the carol Greensleeves, which I listened to this morning, and the sound of this Debussy piece, which I’ve been working on, have reminded me of how much I love these two movies.

I am thrilled about this piece. I think my practicing is driving the paraplegic downstairs nuts, because it often consists of me playing one grouping of highly dissonant and jarring notes after another, over and over, but I’ve never been happier. The whole piece is one of contrasts: striking between dissonances and consonances, and thus causing each to highlight the other; between the linear action of the scales and the vertical building of chords, which is such a pleasure to feel translated from the written score to the muscles of the hand; of aural contrasts created by the frequent changing of time signatures. This is perhaps one of my favorite things about playing Debussy – the way that such mathematical regularity on the page can produce such a whimsical, interpretive sound for the ear. To me the whole piece sounds like the movement of different animals, and like running a finger along a string of crystals on a wire.

Here ’tis: Debussy Preludes Book 2, L 123 – Ondine

Manuel de Falla

Manuel de Falla (1876-1946) es uno de los autores más representativos del Nacionalismo Español. Alumno de Felipe Pedrell, se trasladó a París en su juventud conociendo allí a Debussy y Ravel. Más tarde volvería a España, concretamente a Granada, donde pasaría la mayor parte de su vida hasta marcharse a Argentina, tras la Guerra Civil.

Aunque la mayoría de sus obras presentan temática nacionalista, Falla no utiliza en ningún momento melodías populares puras, sino que su estilo entremezcla rasgos de estilo “español” con pinceladas de Impresionismo francés.

Su obras más conocida es “El Amor Brujo”, ballet en un acto de temática andaluza e inspiración flamenca, cuyo libreto podéis leer aquí http://es.wikisource.org/wiki/El_amor_brujo_(libreto)

Otras obras suyas son: “La Vida Breve”, “Noches en los Jardines de España”, “el Retablo de Maese Pedro” y “El Sombrero de Tres Picos”.

Si queréis saber más, podéis encontrar información sobre su vida y sus obras en su página oficial: http://www.manueldefalla.com/

Aquí tenéis un vídeo de “El Amor Brujo” con coreografía de Carlos Saura:

Y por último, un análisis de la “Fantasía Baética”: http://www.latindex.ucr.ac.cr/kan004-11.php

Hier soir, Benoît Mernier, compositeur de musique « d’aujourd’hui » (dénomination qu’il préfère à « contemporaine »), a exposé au public qui avait répondu à notre invitation quelques idées heureuses et lumineuses.

Comment devient-on compositeur ? L’étiquette est pesante quand on débute, quand la mission du compositeur est de s’inscrire dans l’Histoire, rien que cela !

Benoît Mernier a eu la chance d’être toujours encouragé dans cette voie, notamment par Philippe Boesmans, qui l’aidera de manière informelle et ensuite deviendra son professeur de composition.

Pour Mernier, être compositeur, c’est être à l’écoute du monde et s’en faire l’écho. De la sorte, lorsque que l’on est à l’écoute d’un créateur, l’on est à travers lui à l’écoute du monde.

La rencontre fut aussi l’occasion d’aborder plus en détail son opéra Frühlings Erwarchen. Sa genèse se trouve dans une sollicitation de Bernard Foccroulle en 1999. Une fois l’idée digérée, Benoît Mernier est parti à la recherche d’une œuvre littéraire à adapter : ce sera l’Eveil du Printemps de Frank Wedekind, une oeuvre en langue allemande du début du XXème siècle qui traite de l’éveil d’une jeune fille à la sexualité.

Il faut également trouver un librettiste et un metteur en scène, ce seront respectivement Jacques De Decker et Vincent Boussard.

Pour le travail de composition à proprement parler, Benoît Mernier explique qu’il estime que son action dans ce cadre est de retrancher une part de l’œuvre littéraire – tout ce qui n’est pas constitué par les textes chantés –et de lui adjoindre une nouvelle composante qui transpose sous une forme musicale tout ce qui a été ôté. Il prend l’exemple de l’œuvre littéraire de John Steinbeck Of Mice And Men dont la première scène est une superbe description de paysage qui, dans une adaptation scénique, ne peut être rendue que par la musique.

La conversation, avec Noël Godts de la Médiathèque, a également abordé l’éveil musical du jeune Benoît Mernier, de l’importance dans cet éveil de Bach, de Debussy et aussi du stationnement du Discobus de la Médiathèque à Bastogne.

Mernier terminera la rencontre en évoquant son intérêt pour d’autres compositeurs d’aujourd’hui : Magnus Lindberg, pour son travail conjoint sur le rythme et l’harmonie, George Benjamin, pour sa réinvention permanente, ou l’Argentin Oscar Strasnoy.

Jean-Grégoire Muller

]]> http://kunstlicher.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/interview-chris-taylor-grizzly-bear/ Fri, 13 Nov 2009 11:35:06 +0000 Laura Snapes http://kunstlicher.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/interview-chris-taylor-grizzly-bear/ http://blackbluerose.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/playlist/ Fri, 13 Nov 2009 08:51:39 +0000 blackfadingrose http://blackbluerose.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/playlist/

Gorillaz   Debussy Armin Van Buren

E liniste…ma aud gandind …din cand in cand… .

Inauguramos el Blog con una presentación sobre el primer tema de la asignatura: El Impresionismo Musical



Este também é para a Marta ouvir.

Thanks be to dennisovich for documenting the performance!

Oui, oui, les Feuilles Mortes se ramassent à la pèle mais en musique classique aussi, on les ramasse.

Inspiré par la chute des susdites feuilles, j’ai été jeter un coups d’oeil dans le répertoire classique pour faire la nique à Joseph Kosma, Yves Montand et tous ceux qui ont sussuré cette chanson fameuse. Ne croyez pas pour autant que je n’aime pas cette rengaine.  En vérité, elle me touche toujours mais laissons de la place aux obscures, aux sans grades.

Je vous fais grâce de toutes les feuilles et feuillets d’album: il y en a des bennes de semi-remorques. Par contre, j’ose vous présenter quelques feuilles qui, vous le remarquerez, passent par tous les états.

Feuilles jaunies, miniatures pour piano de Nicolai MIASKOWSKI       Première étape                                            

La Feuille morte, élégie pour piano de Franz Liszt      Suite du processus

Les Feuilles Mortes, mélodie pour voix et piano d’Anatoly NicolayevichALEXANDROV         

Feuilles mortes, pour piano de  Claude  DEBUSSY 

Les Feuilles tombent,  mélodie de Fryderyk CHOPIN    Conséquence

Je vous laisse en compagnie de cette végétation languissante. Qu’elle puisse remplir vos pavillons de leurs froissements mélodieux.

Senaste inköpet av tillbehör är en ostbricka av svart skiffer. Den skall nu ersätta de runda glasbrickor som funnits i skåpen sedan urminnes tider. Eftersom det även firades en födelsedag igår så var Champagne den givna drycken. Eftersom jag hade ärenden uppe i Saint-Germain-en-Laye så passade jag på att titta in på Ferme Sainte-Suzanne och lämpligaste ostförslag blev inte helt oväntat en parmesanost som de hade vänligheten att skära upp i tunna skivor. Som andraost för att fylla ut brickan så blev det butikens egna lokala specialitet, Le Debussy, som är en riktigt fet ost (triple crème, 77 % fetthalt) av komjölk och som lägger sig som bomull i magen.

Denna nya brickan känns riktigt trevlig och frågan är hur länge vi kan vänta innan vi måste komplettera med några lite mindre skifferplattor som var och en kan lägga upp sin ost på. Champagnen som fick ackompanjera osten var en av våra sista flaskor Cuvée Brut från huset Driant-Valentin. Som tur är damp det i veckan ner en inbjudan från dem till en gourmetmässa här i närheten så att vi kan åka dit och förhoppningsvis fylla på vårt lager av champagne.

Namnet på den lokala specialiteten är inspirerat av den franske tonsättaren Claude Debussy som föddes i Saint-Germain-en-Laye 1862. Mittemot ostaffären där jag handlade ligger faktiskt även Musée Claude Debussy, vilket det kanske nu är dags att besöka.

Pensar que hemos de entrar en el cielo,
y no entrar en nosotros… es desatino.

Santa Teresa D’Ávila

Leia O diário dos dias extraordinários completo

acessando o índice disponível no cabeçalho acima.

Obrigado, desfrute!

Como amar mais?
Como amar tudo?
Como amar por completo?
Como amar o bastante?
Como amar até o que não consigo amar?
Com estas perguntas, sentei-me para meditar, colocando o zafu no corredor, entre a porta do escritório e ali onde Theo dormia sobre a colchonete.

Na superfície do lago havia marulhas, agitadas por um vento leve. Inspirando, expirando. Encontrava-me num estado bastante distinto daquela manhã. Inspirando, expirando. Apesar de ter meditado antes de dormir, ainda acordara com alguma angústia pelo aparente abandono a que Theo me relegara, sem jamais ter me convidado para sair com ele e os amigos à noite, nem que fosse por educação – mas a educação de quem, do meu avô quatrocentão ou de um jovem cool francês? – pois afinal eu não cogitava passar pelo ridículo de sair com a trupe adolescente…Pensamento, reconheci – mas não fui capaz de larga-los. Inspirando, expirando. Ainda acalentara a percepção de perda – agora anulada por seu pedido de refúgio, como passara a interpretar, seguindo o raciocínio de Verena, tendo vindo dormir à minha porta, mesmo que fosse para não se esborrachar na escadaria rumo à cobertura, e a um pedido de Fedora. Parecia-me surpreendente que desse menos importância à inclusão cada vez mais intensa que eu ia tendo na história dele, a participação da morte do irmão amado e sua tentativa de suicídio, do que uma balada… seria por ter sabido através do Joshua que ele tinha saído com outro cara? Pensamento, reconheci, e quebrei esta cadeia. Inspirando, expirando. Inspirando, expirando. Inspirando, expirando. Ocorreu-me que Lissa estaria decepcionada comigo, e como compensa-la? Como desculpar-me com ela? Pensamento. Inspirando, expirando – recomecei. Verena tinha muito mais razões para estar verdadeiramente ofendida comigo, o meu sumiço por meses. E no entanto, diversamente de Lissa, ela parecia relevar isso… Pensamento. Julgamento – deslindei, liberando. Inspirando, expirando. Inspirando, expirando. Como um rádio – a Rádio Mente — a que tinha de desligar muitas e muitas vezes, já que ele ligava automaticamente. Automática Mente. E surgindo como se fosse um espetáculo inédito, o tema nunca suficientemente explorado, tragando-me mais fundo — a culpa. Suficiente Mente? Como ainda podia querer assisti-lo? Como ainda encontrava interesse? Desta vez, inovado o espetáculo sempre repetido, vi Gustavo sorrindo. Ocorreu-me que me lembrara diversas vezes dele no mosteiro, pois entre meus amigos mais queridos estava um polonês que era discípulo (póstumo) de Osho. Ele já havia estado em diversos centro de prática, inclusive no de Pune, que era o sonho de Gustavo. E apesar de não ter conseguido sentir qualquer apreço ou aceitação por este afamado senhor a quem eu sequer reputava mestre, através do amor e admiração que sentira por meu amigo tinha ao menos reduzido o asco e aversão ao indiano, o que me trouxera certa liberação. Na companhia do polonês recordava do meu afilhado, assim fundindo a afeição que por ambos sentia, e cultivando-a numa escalada que só se interrompeu com a partida do meu amigo. E a morte de Gustavo? Como interrompia o afeto que eu sentia por ele? Pensamento. Inspirando, expirando. Inspirando, expirando. Então ocorreu-me tocar aquele sentimento novamente, mergulhando em águas mais profundas – ou finalmente emergindo, não sei descrever a sensação — afilhado e afeto eram sinônimos, e no mesmo espaço onde navegara a culpa, agora surfava na afeição, no amor verdadeiro — espaçoso, inclusivo.

Quando foi que comecei a visualizar o meu prédio? Quando foi que novamente senti o milagre de estar ali sentado não somente sobre o zafu lindamente confeccionado mas no meio do céu, pendurado muitos andares acima do solo graças à engenhosidade humana, e a muito trabalho árduo? A gratidão dominou-me. E me vi mentalmente visitando as fundações do prédio, e não sei bem como nem porquê visualizando-as feitas de Amor, reconhecendo o trabalho nelas, a sabedoria nelas, a solidez, a confiança… Percebi aquela outra cadeia de pensamentos, mas como não me pareceu nociva, deixei que se desenvolvesse para ver a que lugares me levaria… Senti que havia uma forte energia de Amor, da qual eu não era o centro mas da qual participava como… dínamo? Das fundações do Amor parti para a garagem do subsolo, com as dependências para funcionários, todos os carros estacionados, as bicicletas, os armários, fechaduras, cadeados… Madeira como Amor, borracha como Amor, metal como Amor… Minha visita inundou a garagem de uma água aerada, dourada, cintilante, levíssima… Amor. Havia uma família chegando de carro — assim vi ou visualizei –, e envolvi-os em bem estar, delicadeza, harmonia. Amor. Depois de ter percorrido todos os cantos da garagem, subi ao andar térreo… Ou não fui eu, pois não havia eu, mas a onda de Amor na qual me encontrava, diluído, cintilante, vaporizado naquela espécie de ar aquoso e dourado como um nevoeiro mais denso atravessado por um esplendoroso nascente, que se estabelecia desde as fundações do prédio e os poços dos elevadores, preenchendo toda a garagem e agora espalhando-se pelo térreo, inundando os jardins, a guarita dos seguranças, a casa do zelador e de novo, quando cada canto encontrava-se pleno de luz dourada, e as próprias paredes não eram feitas de outra essência que não fosse Amor, a escalada prosseguiu para os dois apartamentos do primeiro andar, que a onda visitou desde a frente até os fundos, de uma ponta a outra, envolvendo todos os objetos e seres com Amor, Amor, Amor… Pleno e satisfeito o primeiro andar, a onda subiu para o segundo, e uma vez preenchido, para o terceiro, e assim por diante, cada vez mais densa, mais brilhante e intensa – passou pelo meu andar, pelo meu próprio apartamento e o do vizinho, e em seguida o dos gêmeos acima, e depois ainda para o alto, até a cobertura da família de Theo, e o próprio salão de festas onde ele morava… Amor. Das fundações ao topo o prédio estava inteiramente preenchido todos os cantos em todos os aspectos todos os materiais e elementos visíveis e invisíveis manifestando Amor a onda era tão forte encontrando tanto espaço e avançando tão naturalmente e sem resistência que uma vez tendo inundado todo o prédio senti que ela vertia por sobre os muros dos jardins suspensos de Theo e como uma vertiginosa cascata luminosa para a avenida a água dourada não apenas lavando todos os transeuntes e carros que por ali passavam mas repintando-os da cor do Amor da matéria do amor de tal forma que os carros correndo com seus motoristas e passageiros iam levando o Amor para outros cantos da cidade eles próprios mensageiros e arautos do Amor tornados Amor e quanto mais carros passavam e alguns deles entravam no prédio uns saiam outros estacionavam e os elevadores funcionavam para cima e para baixo e quanto mais as pessoas e os cães e os gatos se movimentavam por quartos e corredores quanto mais me dava conta de toda a miríade de insetos as formigas e seus caminhos silenciosos os cupins e suas moradas secretas e tanto mais o Amor se intensificava tanto mais ele se expandia não mais somente como uma majestosa e poderosa cascata dourada desde a cobertura mas a partir de todas as janelas do meu prédio que como centenas de faróis emitiam fachos de luz dourada em todas as direções fachos cada vez mais fortes o Amor alcançando os outros edifícios também pelo poços dos elevadores pelas fundações o Amor tendo se infiltrado no subsolo da cidade e pelas tubulações pelo lençol freático fluindo e espalhando-se mais rapidamente…

Não estive cochilando.
Nem estava alucinando.
Permanecia imóvel no zafu, consciente da minha respiração, e de uma certa expansão… Houve enfim o momento em que algo me fez compreender que eu não estava criando uma onda de Amor e com ela inundando todas as coisas… Pois não havia nenhum criador. Havia um mero observador, que de repente se deu conta – ao reconhecer que todas as coisas já eram Amor, quer se dessem conta disso ou não. Foi o refluxo da onda. Num instante, o caminho que seguia espalhando-se pela cidade e por todos os seres, para fora, expandindo-se, percebeu que era o mesmo e um só caminho de volta… O caminho se deu conta, não o caminhante, de que ele era de ida e volta. O Amor se deu conta. Vou e volto sem ter de ir nem voltar, pois sou o próprio caminho, o caminho inteiro. Estou no começo, estou no fim, estou em todo e cada lugar. O rio não precisa chegar ao mar. A nascente não precisa correr, pois lá na outra ponta ela já toca o mar – apenas que recebe um outro nome, o de estuário… Mas o rio é um só, da nascente ao estuário, o caminho unindo as pontas, e não separando-as. Constituindo o próprio rio. O caminho também, subindo ou descendo, indo ou vindo – é só uma impressão, a de direção. E a onda que refluiu não precisou de fato refluir – ainda assim, senti o Amor de todas as coisas confluindo em mim, como uma retribuição, um reconhecimento… Não era preciso colocar Amor em todas as coisas, posto que Amor elas já eram, ainda que não soubessem disso, ainda que não se reconhecem Amor… A tremenda violência do filme exibido na televisão – quando quem assistia se desse conta do milagre que era ter olhos, e poder enxergar naquele momento… O casal que se agredia, sem dar-se conta da maravilha de manifestar palavras, da energia que os animava a gritarem, talvez até a se baterem – se tivessem consciência do milagre das próprias vozes, tão mal empregadas, da energia em seus movimentos, tão mal conduzida… Apenas porque não reconheciam o Amor, não o viviam. Mas ele estava lá sempre, sustentando o momento, a vida de cada ser. Sendo Amor só um nome. Assim como a camiseta que eu usava – linha, tecido, algodão, camponeses, tecelães, patrões e operários, famílias, alimento, agricultura, chuva, sol, transporte, poeira, telhados, vento, joaninhas, petróleo, cimento, foguetes, injeções – abrigando todos os elementos, camiseta era só um outro nome para o Amor que me envolvia naquele momento. O zafu debaixo de mim. Os tacos do corredor. O ar, dentro e fora de mim, sem que dentro nem fora fossem possíveis de distinguir. A buzina da moto, à distância – e no entanto, bem dentro de mim assim como o zumbido do elevador, o vento na janela, o ressonar de Theo – dentro de mim, todos. Um cheiro úmido no ar – dentro de mim. A coceira em minha coxa esquerda, entre tantas coisas que constituíam a minha existência naquele momento – não só a minha experiência, mas a própria existência, naquele momento. E o coração, súbito tão alto, tão próximo, tão vivo, tão presente… Tantas condições permitindo a minha existência naquele momento, tão maravilhosas, tão infinitas, tão misteriosas, sem poderem estar próximas nem distantes, sem poderem estar dentro nem fora — o ar em meus ouvidos e em minhas narinas ilimitado com o ar de todo o universo, os cometas e estrelas cintilando no universo da minha consciência –, as coisas perdiam seus nomes particulares para se reunirem sob Amor…

Era uma vivência, não era uma idéia; uma experiência, não uma teoria; não uma descoberta, mas uma confirmação – e portanto, a verdade que no instinto e na intuição há, inexplicáveis, irredutíveis à pobre razão.

Era uma libertação, aquela nova experiência de Amor. Não havia mais que pensar nele como o amorzinho que tinha de vir de papai senão seria um muxoxo, a afeição de mamãe senão seria um chorinho, o reconhecimento do namoradinho senão seria uma ofensa, a estima da namoradinha senão seria a insegurança, a aceitação do patrão senão seria o medo, a aprovação do vizinho senão seria a antipatia – que por sua vez estavam esperando o amorzinho de papai e mamãe que por sua vez estavam esperando-o de… Basta. Amor está presente e disponível em todas as coisas… Todas? Assassinatos, estupros, guerras… Naquele instante, pareceu-me que bastava o caçador reconhecer a maravilha do momento — ainda que fosse o momento de puxar o gatilho, o olhar na mira –, ao entrar em contato com seus próprios olhos, ouvidos, a imensa destreza nos dedos, braços, mãos, e os pulmões, o coração – se ele pudesse se dar conta das condições infindas e maravilhosas que se reuniam naquele momento para torna-lo possível, e também ao outro ser que ele pretendia matar, se por um segundo se deparasse com o milagre não menos do que grandioso, poderoso, intenso, avassalador, da vida presente em cada mínimo, ínfimo, prosaico segundo – ele não mataria, ele não estupraria, ele evitaria todo o mal, e provavelmente se poria de joelhos. Pensamento. Inspirando, expirando. Inspirando, expirando. Percebi que já havia deixado o reino onde há pouco estivera, onde tudo era Amor, porque assim eu queria a tudo chamar, sem distinções. Amor? Já distinguia – morte, vida, começo, fim, bom, ruim, caçador, caça, arma, e eu não era nenhum deles, mas um outro ainda. Inspirando, expirando. Inspirando, expirando.

Abri os olhos. Começava a escurecer. Encontrava-me novamente naquele módulo de alta definição de sensação e percepção, e em todas as coisas havia uma espécie de halo. Todas as coisas são iluminadas, e nos iluminam de volta. E apesar de escuro, ficou claro — não há iluminação nenhuma a obter. Apenas reconhecer. Não há que criar. Apenas experienciar. Ainda que seja por um momento, tocar o que está sempre lá, disponível.

Aquiles aguardando-me. Aproximei-me de Theo. Nem esparramado nem encolhido. Nem entorpecido nem retraído. Pareceu-me pacífico. Liguei para meu amigo. A voz muita baixa. Ele baixou a voz também. Desculpe, estou atrasado. Mas você vem? Posso deixar o seu telefone com meu vizinho que está passando mal? O que aconteceu com ele? Posso? Lógico que sim! Então daqui a pouco estou de saída. Escrevi um bilhete para Theo. Espero que você esteja bem ao acordar. Obrigado por confiar em mim. A Fedora e o Joshua ligaram. Falei com eles. Desliguei seu celular antes de a bateria acabar. Eles querem que você ligue quando acordar. Sua mãe também. Eu também. Vou estar na casa de um amigo, e o telefone de lá é. Não pude esperar você acordar. Passamos o dia inteiro juntos. Embora você não vá se lembrar. Obrigado por estar aqui. Fique com as chaves do meu apartamento para você. Com Amor. Andante.

If we meet again… I´ll tell you how I feel… I´ll tell you from the start… I´ll tell you love is real… How everything we say… And everything we do… Has been preordained… To bring true love to you… — diante da luz do computador redivivo dei-me conta do meu estado; quando a tela ofuscou-me, pisquei e senti vertigem e surpresa, pois com sua luz trazia-me as usinas hidroelétricas, rios, reservatórios, relâmpagos, chuvas, tempestades, cabos, postes, engenharia, engenhosidade, estudos, empenho, toda a história, memória e sobrevivência da humanidade. Nothing else is pure… Nothing else is right… You will know for sure… Once you´ve seen the light… — a luz elétrica atingiu-me como a um cometa, explodindo em minha consciência. Alcançaram-me milhares de trabalhadores, a noção de um contínuo empenho, cuidado e esforço através da corrente elétrica, como uma comunicação de Amor – e percebi-me emocionado com coisa tão cotidiana, lágrimas nos olhos diante de um aparelho eletrônico… Pensei que seria impossível viver assim, naquele estado de Amor confirmado até pela canção — ou por aquela voz que saindo do computador adentrava minha mente e me comunicava Amor só porque eu havia aprendido um outro idioma, graças a meus pais, professores, escritores, cineastas, e meu próprio interesse e empenho –, mas que talvez eu tivesse de aprender a viver assim, já que aquele passava a ser o meu caminho, irreversível. Amor. If we meet again… I´ll tell you how I feel… I´ll tell you love is real… — cantarolei, fechando a porta com um último olhar na direção de Theo.

O porteiro retribuiu-me o cumprimento, sorridente, e à saída o segurança somente acenou, sempre precavido, profissionalmente retraído. A primeira quadra que caminhei, das sete ou oito que me separavam do edifício de Aquiles, foi um tremendo susto. Aos primeiros passos na calçada seqüestrou-me o ruído e a visão do vôo iridiscente de um besouro cruzando o espaço à minha frente em câmera lenta até pousar na borda de cimento coberta de lima do canteiro do prédio vizinho onde amarílis e agapantos explodiram em cores brilhantes intricados recortes arranjos exuberantes diante dos meus olhos no módulo de alta definição em que me encontrava as nuvens de chuva que escureciam o céu foram se dissipando e o final de tarde repentinamente revelou-se ensolarado os pássaros pareciam dispostos a comemorar a desistência da tormenta ouvi um trinado vigoroso e virtuoso logo acima da minha cabeça e enxerguei o passarinho pousado no resedá junto a mim ti-tiu… ti-tiu-tiu cantou mais uma vez resolvi responder com Amor… Amor-Amor… e logo em seguida me arrependendo imaginando que o passarinho iria voar assustado diante do meu canto tão desafinado e em nada parecido com o dele a não ser na tentativa de tom e melodia para minha surpresa ele girou a cabecinha e voltou a piar ti-tiu-tiu… ti-ti-ti-tiu… e eu insisti no meu piado de Amor-Amor-Amor talvez um pouco mais delicado descobri que o passarinho desejava brincar e respondeu-me… ti-ti-ti-tiu… por um instante somente escutei para ter certeza de que não havia algum outro pássaro ao qual ele estivesse correspondendo e que eu ainda não houvesse identificado ti-tiu ele pareceu-me perguntar e Amor-amor eu respondi assim ficamos ao resedá conversando animadamente até lembrar-me que já estava atrasado para a casa de Aquiles despedi-me agradecido com um Amor-Amor-Amor doce e sorridente e sai caminhando pelo canto do olho enxerguei o passarinho voar até o resedá seguinte dois metros à minha frente e de lá de novo endereçar-me ti-ti-ti-tiu… fiquei imaginando se o passarinho teria me identificado como a origem do canto que respondia e por isso me seguira Amor-amor… A-mor… A-mor… cantei lentamente mais suavemente e me aproximei da arvorezinha o passarinho animou-se e discursou Ti-tiu… ti-tiu-tiu… Ti-ti-ti-tiu… Ti-tiu! A-mor… A-mor… A-mor… A-mor… empolguei-me e assim continuamos — só nos separamos quando um carro encostou ao portão da garagem mais próxima e buzinou, espantando o passarinho num vôo espavorido, acelerando meu coração. Será possível, pensei, ou estou ficando louco?

Na esquina, esperei o semáforo para pedestres abrir mais porque aquilo me dava a chance de parar e voltar-me à minha respiração, tentando acalmar um pouco o estado inebriado e emocional no qual que encontrava. Mas meu olhar em alta definição não se pacificou diante do vento do fim de tarde agitando os galhos da verdíssima figueira do outro lado da calçada, como um maestro em pleno allegro molto vivace, apassionato e con brio, enquanto por entre a copa abrindo e fechando-se eu entrevia as nuvens afastando-se no mesmo ritmo vigoroso… Todos os movimentos claramente perceptíveis, as folhas intensamente brilhantes, os galhos agitados estalando como que espreguiçando-se, e as folhas lambendo-se umas às outras com um chiado voluptuoso. Pensei que era impossível viver daquela maneira, tocado por todas as coisas continuamente, e procurei fechar os olhos. Com isso perdi o semáforo para pedestres, que voltou a ficar vermelho – embora, de fato, não houvesse carro algum naquela tarde de domingo, àquela esquina. Procurei manter o olhar baixo, concentrando-me na minha respiração, buscando vigiar os sentidos. Mas fui assaltado pela visão surpreendentemente gloriosa da passagem de um avião refletido no vidro traseiro do carro estacionado bem ao meu lado – e enfim soltei uma risada.

Lembrei-me do conselho que no mosteiro havia recebido do Venerável, quando até um pouco assustado havia lhe contado sobre aquele módulo de percepção em alta definição no qual incorria algumas vezes. Os super-sentidos, siddhis como ele os chamara, ocorriam a algumas pessoas logo no início da prática. E não deviam tornar-se um problema, a não ser que eu escolhesse torna-los um problema – apegando-me a eles, dando-lhes importância, desenvolvendo-os, e assim retardando meu progresso verdadeiro, na clareza mental que de fato importava. Se ficava atordoado por ouvir os sons vindos de todos os cantos dos dois andares da casa onde residia no mosteiro, se me incomodava ouvir claramente as confidências não dirigidas a mim, compartilhadas em sussurros no fim do corredor — eu podia escolher ouvir mas não entender, prestando atenção ao som porém não ao sentido. Não havia um problema se eu não criasse um problema.

Soltei outra risada – e o cachorrinho que viera cheirar minha perna latiu, mirando-me com olhinhos desconfiados. Os mesmos olhos miúdos e um pouco úmidos de sua dona, a senhorinha que chegou alguns segundos depois, vinda da outra ponta da coleira, e que olhou-me igualmente desconfiada – mas não latiu, apesar de ser do clã da gente cã. Além da coleira, segurava as abas de um casaquinho de tricô azul que o vento tentava abrir, e o cabelo branquíssimo cuidadosamente armado que o mesmo vento tentava despentear. Convidei-a a atravessar, quando o semáforo mudou para verde, e mostrando-se muito surpresa com o meu gesto de porteiro da rua, apressou o passo.

Na outra calçada, vi-me envolto pela figueira que já havia chamado minha atenção, a qual lançou um galho à minha frente, interceptando minha caminhada, e quando estanquei, baixou outro diretamente sobre a minha cabeça, a folhagem trêmula cutucando minha nuca. Ri de novo, envolto pelo verde, imerso em folhas e farfalhar de folhas, seiva e poeira. Esperei até a árvore – e o vento — me liberarem, erguendo novamente seus galhos, redemoinhos, silêncio, e segui em frente. Cumprimentei a senhorinha que me olhava ainda desconfiada.

– Boa tarde – minha voz saiu triunfante, e sorri com exagero. Esfuziante foi a palavra que me ocorreu quando observei o meu estado de espírito.
– Boa tarde…? – ela respondeu, hesitante, egressa de um mundo totalmente diferente do meu, e apesar de eu já ter me afastado, preocupado em não assusta-la ainda mais com meus modos exuberantes, acrescentou – O senhor parece muito feliz…
– Eu estou! – confirmei, permanecendo a alguns metros de distância. Vi um passarinho agitar-se dentro do arbusto de espirradeira a meu lado, e pensei, por favor não comece a conversar comigo na frente desta senhora…

– Que bom para o senhor! – e ao dizer isso ela soou inconformada, até indignada, como se minha atitude lhe fosse ofensiva – Num mundo como o nosso… – empertigou-se, para iniciar a tentativa de sabotagem – O senhor viu aquela menina de três anos lá do Rio que os ladrões mataram essa manhã?
– A senhora a conhecia? – indaguei, com cuidado.
– Claro que não. Só vi no jornal. Mas como o senhor consegue ser feliz com uma coisa dessas? E com tantos políticos corruptos lá em Brasília…

Ocorreu-me que não compartilhávamos a mesma tarde, não o mesmo bairro nem rua, nem a mesma calçada ou planeta, e numa súbita inspiração — A senhora ficou sabendo daquele bebê que um médico salvou da morte por asfixia… Aquele que nasceu com o cordão umbilical dando duas voltas no pescoço?
– Não. Ele está bem? Onde foi?
– Muito bem – assegurei-lhe, efusivamente – Ele sobreviveu, e está aqui diante da senhora – embora não pudesse afirmar que sem seqüelas, visto o meu estado atual.
Ela arregalou os olhos.
– Não vá até o Rio ou Brasília, senhora. Fique por aqui mesmo, e desfrute da sua tarde… – despedi-me e sai caminhando, mas não resisti a um impulso do qual depois me arrependi, por parecer-me doutrinador e excessivo, voltando-me para dizer-lhe — E se puder, desfrute desse seu casaquinho azul tão bonito, que protege a senhora do vento – empolguei-me – Desfrute até do vento, que ajuda a dissipar a poluição e está afastando a tempestade – apontei para o céu, como se ela não soubesse onde buscar a evolução das nuvens — Desfrute desta tarde através dos seus olhos, com os seus ouvidos, com as pernas que levam a senhora para caminhar – e não parei, mesmo diante da expressão de incredulidade da mulher – Desfrute da companhia do seu cachorrinho tão bem cuidado… E quando chegar em casa, agradeça pelas paredes, pela água encanada, pela energia elétrica – cãozinho e dona imóveis pareciam igualmente prestar atenção em mim, julgando-me, ou buscando fazer sentido –, pela comida… – abri os braços da maneira ampla como Theo fazia, abarcando o universo – Por que não estar contente, aqui, agora?

– Tome cuidado para a sua felicidade não ser atropelada na próxima esquina – exímia, a senhorinha desfechou o golpe mortal – Nem assaltada… – ministrou-me o antídoto fatal.

Não vou relatar o restante da minha caminhada — a Rádio Mente tocando Here is the Pure Land, the Pure Land is here… I smile in mindfulness, and dwell in the present moment… The Buddha I see in an autumn leaf, the Dharma in a floating cloud… — até o prédio de Aquiles, em respeito a um amigo e leitor que pondera sobre os trechos estarem demasiado longos. De fato, ao contrário da maioria das pessoas que reclama que os dias estão cada vez mais curtos e que o tempo parece passar mais rápido, os meus parecem alongar-se, vividos intensamente, prestando atenção a cada momento, mesmo ao abrir a torneira, presente o tempo todo, inclusive escovando os dentes… Há quantas palavras atrás sai de casa? Quantas postagens está durando este domingo? Quantas mais vai durar? Não sei dizer, uma vez que a inundação do meu lavabo tem se repetido com esta narrativa, as palavras escorrendo-me dos dedos em jorros de frases e parágrafos inteiros. E não há nenhum Divino para reparar isso.

Afinal, pelo caminho minha felicidade não foi atropelada nem assaltada, pois eu mesmo já tinha sido atropelado e assaltado por ela, e portanto não chegou diminuída à cobertura do meu amigo, que estava à porta para receber-me. Antes de julga-lo abatido, envelhecido, emagrecido, deixei-me envolver por seu abraço, e procurei harmonizar-me com ele – o que não era difícil, se atentasse à trilha sonora proporcionada por Aquiles, sempre ouvindo música em alto volume, afinada com sua disposição de espírito.
– Debussy. Sirènes – foi o máximo que reconheci, apesar de saber que aquele movimento fazia parte de algum Noturno do qual não lembrava o número, mas mesmo assim foi o suficiente para faze-lo sorrir. Era o começo da peça, e fiquei imaginando se meu amigo a teria iniciado assim que o interfone tocara ou à aproximação do elevador, numa espécie de homenagem à minha chegada, como já o assistira fazer com outras pessoas.

Ele confirmou, exuberante, um Odisseu triunfante com sua voz tonitruante que teria vencido todas as sereias — Abbado. O seu preferido! – Aquiles referia-se à época em que eu vivera em Berlin, durante a qual tinha freqüentado a Filarmônica, economizando em outras coisas para poder comprar os ingressos, sempre que possível assistindo-a e ao Claudio Abbado que, por alguma razão incompreensível até para mim mesmo, tinha eleito como meu maestro preferido, a partir de uma ou duas interpretações de Brahms, também o meu compositor preferido à época, se ainda me lembro… Há anos não tocava minha coleção de eruditos, e só voltava a esse mundo na companhia de Aquiles – Vou só me despedir do Nils e sou todo seu… Você nos fez falta, aqui! – e retornou ao computador para o amigo, um sueco residente nos EUA. Depois iria descobrir que Aquiles já não subia ao segundo andar da cobertura, e que aquele canto da sala abrigava uma pequena estação de trabalho que era agora o seu escritório, o qual tinha se convertido em quarto de dormir, e que durante o tempo em que eu estivera fora, uma grande reforma ampliara o lavabo tornando-o propriamente um quarto de banhos, retirando espaço à cozinha – tudo por conta dos problemas de vista que o haviam deixado praticamente cego, embora não desse mostras disso em seu próprio apartamento, onde morava há mais de 20 anos e no qual movia-se até de olhos fechados, mesmo com a recente reforma.

Meu amigo ainda não tinha se desvencilhado do computador, tendo pedido licença para atender apenas brevemente a um outro amigo da Holanda que o chamava pelo Skype, quando Fátima, a fiel ajudante de Aquiles desde a Antiguidade, trouxe-me o telefone, e eu soube imediatamente tratar-se de Theo – agradecendo pelo meu cuidado e pedindo desculpas pelo transtorno, já tendo falado com Fedora, Joshua e a mãe – e não fiquei triste por ser o último da lista –, dizendo-me que em outros tempos não teria tanta gente atrás dele, mas desde que ele tinha tentado o suicídio – também não me surpreendi por ele mencionar o assunto tão diretamente – sentia que tinha um monte de gente seguindo cada passo que dava… — Perdi a chave do meu apartamento… – confessou, e era esta a razão de ter me pedido abrigo, e não a promessa feita a Fedora de não subir bêbado a escadaria – e como não queria pedir a cópia aos empregados lá de casa… – ele esclareceu – Na verdade, ainda não quero fazer isso, não nestas condições… Estou nojento! Como você me agüentou? – ele riu – Será que posso tomar banho aqui na sua casa, antes de subir, e pegar emprestada uma camiseta sua?

Eu tinha previsto isso, e separara uma toalha e algumas roupas que o aguardavam no quarto de hóspedes, e que por receio de parecer tolo, paternal, excessivo ou desnecessário – a raiz estava em meu medo de rejeição, eu sabia melhor – não incluíra no bilhete, revelando-o somente agora, satisfeito — As chaves do apartamento também são suas. Da próxima vez você pode entrar direto… – ri, entre sentir-me magnânimo e generoso, satisfeito ao estreitar nossa intimidade e confiança – Não precisa ficar no capacho… — decepcionei-me quando em seguida ele não agradeceu efusivamente, mas foi até um pouco hesitante, e finalmente senti-me tolo, paternal, excessivo e desnecessário.

– Depois vou sair de bicicleta. Para queimar tudo o que bebi, e quem sabe espantar essa “lezadeira” – usou uma palavra estranha, talvez misturando lerdeza com bebedeira, e nossa conversa terminou bruscamente, quando ele precisou atender outra linha, deixando-me num estado indistinto de frustração e carência – que só iriam aumentar, quando em seguida chegaram Guido e Luciano, um casal habitué de Aquiles. Não fiquei surpreso, embora me sentisse decepcionado, tendo imaginado que meu amigo desejaria passar algum tempo a sós comigo, quando iríamos nos colocar a par do correr de nossas vidas durante o ano em que não nos víramos. Vendo-o abatido, envelhecido, emagrecido, esperava que ele me confidenciasse – mas também não era surpresa que preferisse a música alta, a casa cheia e a agitação de costume a encarar-me sozinho e em silêncio. Aquiles mantivera sua amizade por mim, mas a condição era que nós preservássemos uma prudente reserva de assuntos pessoais e à distância a sinceridade em relação a sentimentos, assim como ele fazia com relação a si próprio.

– O monge resolveu voltar para nós! Que bom! – Luciano sabia ser charmoso e sempre educado, o que a meus olhos aumentava sua beleza um pouco rude e muito masculina de tipo árabe – Nós precisamos da sua paz! Nós precisamos de pelo menos alguém em paz, né? – olhou na direção de Guido, que sempre tímido apenas sorriu, sem mostrar os dentes nem alterar a melancolia perene em seus olhos castanhos e grandes, ainda inocentes como os de um bezerro, apesar de estar beirando os cinqüenta, assim como seu companheiro.

Vi minha frustração aumentar à medida que começou a entrevista sobre minha vida no mosteiro. Ao contrário da prática meditativa de ouvir sem interromper, agora eu me dispunha a falar somente para ver até onde chegaria no relato que me pediam para fazer do cotidiano monástico – normalmente, não conseguia passar do sino que nos despertava às cinco da manhã… Depois de bastante polêmica e incompreensão sobre um tal horário para se iniciar o dia, a pergunta seguinte foi sobre disciplina, e antes mesmo que eu respondesse, começou-se a comentar da disciplina em um spa, que já era insuportável, imagina então num mosteiro, e o assunto derivou de spas para cirurgias estéticas e as correspondentes fofocas sobre os acréscimos ou decréscimos neste ou naquele amigo… Assisti minha frustração aumentar em meio à conversa caótica e errática – embora só eu a julgasse assim, pois de resto era normal e prosaica e estava dentro dos parâmetros de todas as conversas ansiosas, confusas, estupidificantes que normalmente era só o que se tinha ao longo dos dias e de toda uma vida – da qual só participaram Luciano e Aquiles, tendo eu me recolhido ao meu sorriso um pouco condescendente e Guido, de quem não conseguia sequer recordar-me do timbre de voz, ao seu habitual isolamento acústico. Quis crer que como eu, ele também se esforçava por assistir ao poente, para o qual toda a frente do apartamento estava voltada, inclusive o espaçoso terraço no qual nos encontrávamos. Mas talvez eu tenha sido o único a observar as nuances de cores e a mudança nas texturas das nuvens – pelo canto do olho, para não parecer totalmente desinteressado da conversa.

Amuadas como eu, as sereias já haviam se recolhido há muito tempo, tendo cedido a vez a um retumbante Il Rigoletto, ou coisa do gênero, e as bebidas alcoólicas começaram a brotar do bar quando chegaram mais dois amigos de Aquiles, num crescendo que galgaria a doze participantes naquela pequena reunião de domingo.

I started this blog nearly two months ago, but then stalled out.

After looking around so many other Twilight related sites, I decided that I would like to do something a bit different. Since music is such a big part of Twilight for both Stephanie Meyer and so many fans (and my own life) – from Muse to Debussy – I have decided to start a playlist series that highlights the personalities and characterizations of each of the Twilight characters.  Meyer has already created playlists for each of the books on her website, and given us plenty to consider for Edward, Bella, and Jacob.  But what about some of the other characters that we love so much?

Have you ever heard a song, and thought…that is totally Alice….or Emmett…..or Sam?   I find myself doing this more often that would like, and have even Google’d looking for such playlist for some of my favorite characters trying to find inspiration for writing or just to capture the mood of a scene in one of the books.  Since it seems no has really ever given this some serious thought, I am going to give it a try.

I hope to have a new playlist up each week or so.  If you have an suggestions, please feel free to comment or email me at dreamingofforks@gmail.com

The first playlist will be for one of my absolute favorite characters in the Twilight Saga – Alice!!

1964 Programme of Concerts as given in the publicity leaflet, a copy of which was given to me by Michael Hall. The comments are those by Hugh Wood. As further composers are interviewed their comments will be added alongside those by Wood.

Wardour Castle Summer Concerts

16-22 August, 1964

President: MICHAEL TIPPETT

Musical Director: HARRISON BIRTWISTLE

These concerts run concurrently with the Wardour Castle Summer School.

Sunday 16 August

8.30 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room

MUSIC IN OUR TIME

Introduced by Michael Tippett

A concert of contemporary English Music.

Promoted by: Institute for the Promotion of New Music

Morag Noble – Soprano

Margaret Kitchin – Pianoforte

Peter Maxwell Davies – Pianoforte

Melos Ensemble

Three Pieces for Piano – Hugh Wood

Suite for String Trio (first performance) – Neville Gambier

Piano Sonata – Anthony Gilbert

Second Piano Sonata – Michael Tippett

Monody for Corpus Christi – Harrison Birtwistle

Five Little Pieces (first performance) – Peter Maxwell Davies

Suite Op.11 – Alexander Goehr

Monday 17 August

8.30 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room

Chamber Concert

Melos Ensemble

Pianoforte Trio, F sharp minor – Haydn

Six Little Pieces – Bartok

Seven Sketches – Debussy

Première Rhapsody – Debussy

Vier Stüke – Berg

Fantasia in C Minor, K. 475 – Mozart

Horn Trio on E flat, Op.40 – Brahms

Tuesday 18 August

5.0 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room.

Lecture: Oliver Messiaen, The Man and His Music

Given by Hugh Wood

Wednesday 19 August

8.30 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room.

Discussion: Opera Today

Alexander Goehr, Peter Maxwell Davies, Michael Tippett.

Chairman: Harrison Birtwistle

5.0 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Rooms.

A Matinee for Erik Satie

Given by Susan McGaw – pianoforte

Gymnopédies – Satie

Sonatas – C. P. E. Bach

Vieux sequins et Vieilles Cuirasses – Satie

Songs without Words – Mendelssohn

Jack-in-the-Box – Satie

Friday 21 August

8.30 pm Old Wardour Castle

Nocturnal.

A concert in the open air* of English and Italian echo-music from the 16th and 17th centuries for brass and voices

Given by: Gabrieli Ensemble and Choir conducted by Peter Maxwell Davies, Alexander Goehr.

Music by Maschera, Isaac, A and G. Gabrielli

* under cover if wet

Wood’s files included a document which gives the details of this concert:

Canzon Cornetto a 4 Scheidt

Quam Pulchra Es Dunstable

Courant Dolorosa a 4 Scheidt

Paduan a 4 Scheidt

Cor Mio, mentre vi miro Monteverdi

Air, Corante, Allemande, Corante, Saraband Cocke

INTERVAL

Sonata, Hora decima No. 6 Johannes Pezel

Sonata, Hora decima No. 39 Pezel

Adieu, Adieu, my heart’s lust Cornish

Fair Phyllis I saw Farmer

Draw on, sweet night Wilbye

April is in my mistress’s face Morley

Canzon Primi Toni a 8 Morley

Canzon Septimi Toni a 8 G. Gabrielli

à Toulouse
le samedi 7 novembre 2009 à 20h30

A l’initiative de l’Association France-Turquie de Midi-Pyrénées, les pianistes turques Ilgin Aka et Gülden Teztel, professeurs au Conservatoire d’Etat de l’Université d’Istanbul, proposent un programme réunissant Mozart, Schubert, Bizet, Debussy et Liszt dans le cadre de la Saison de la Turquie en France (juillet 2009 – mars 2010).

Création : elles interprèteront une œuvre du compositeur turc, Ulvi Cemal Erkin, intitulée “Cinq gouttes” en l’adaptant au piano à quatre mains.

1964 Programme of Concerts as given in the publicity leaflet, a copy of which was given to me by Michael Hall.

Wardour Castle Summer Concerts

16-22 August, 1964

President: MICHAEL TIPPETT

Musical Director: HARRISON BIRTWISTLE

These concerts run concurrently with the Wardour Castle Summer School.

Sunday 16 August

5.0 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room

Lecture: MUSIC IN OUR TIME

Given by Alexander Goehr

8.30 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room

MUSIC IN OUR TIME

Introduced by Michael Tippett

A concert of contemporary English Music.

Promoted by: Institute for the Promotion of New Music

Morag Noble – Soprano

Margaret Kitchin – Pianoforte

Peter Maxwell Davies – Pianoforte

Melos Ensemble

Three Pieces for Piano – Hugh Wood

Suite for String Trio (first performance) – Neville Gambier

Piano Sonata – Anthony Gilbert

Second Piano Sonata – Michael Tippett

Monody for Corpus Christi – Harrison Birtwistle

Five Little Pieces (first performance) – Peter Maxwell Davies

Suite Op.11 – Alexander Goehr

Mondat 17 August

5.0 pm The Old Kitchen, Wardour Castle

Recital: Early organ Music

Given on a newly-restored baroque organ by Peter Maxwell Davies

Music by: Dunstable, Taverner, Byrd, Tomkins, Gabrielli, Scheidt, Zipoli, etc.

8.30 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room

Chamber Concert

Melos Ensemble

Pianoforte Trio, F sharp minor – Haydn

Six Little Pieces – Bartok

Seven Sketches – Debussy

Première Rhapsody – Debussy

Vier Stüke – Berg

Fantasia in C Minor, K. 475 – Mozart

Horn Trio on E flat, Op.40 – Brahms

Tuesday 18 August

5.0 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room.

Lecture: Oliver Messiaen, The Man and His Music

Given by Hugh Wood

8.30 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room

Quartet for the End of Time

Members of the Melos Ensemble

Emmanuel Hurwitz – violin, viola

Gervase de Peyer – clarinet

Terrence Weil – Violoncello

Lamar Crowson – pianoforte

Clarinet Trio in E flat, K.498 – Mozart

Impromptus, Op. 142 – Schubert

Quatuor Pour la Fin du Temps – Oliver Messiaen

Wednesday 19 August

5.0 pm The Old Kitchen, Wardour Castle

Flute and Harpsichord

Lucy Berthoud – flute

Michael Thomas – harpsichord

Sonata No. 1 in B minor – Bach

Ordre B Minor – Couperin

Sonata No. 6 in E minor – Bach

8.30 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Room.

Discussion: Opera Today

Alexander Goehr, Peter Maxwell Davies, Michael Tippett.

Chairman: Harrison Birtwistle

Thursday 20 August

5.0 pm Wardour Castle Assembly Rooms.

A Matinee for Erik Satie

Given by Susan McGaw – pianoforte

Gymnopédies – Satie

Sonatas – C. P. E. Bach

Vieux sequins et Vieilles Cuirasses – Satie

Songs without Words – Mendelssohn

Jack-in-the-Box – Satie

8.30 pm Assemble Room Wardour Castle

Lecture: Musical Characterization in Mozart Opera.

Given by Stephen Pruslin, Princeton University.

Friday 21 August

8.30 pm Old Wardour Castle

Nocturnal.

A concert in the open air* of English and Italian echo-music from the 16th and 17th centuries for brass and voices

Given by: Gabrieli Ensemble and Choir conducted by Peter Maxwell Davies, Alexander Goehr.

Music by Maschera, Isaac, A and G. Gabrieli

* under cover if wet

Saturday 22 August

8.30 pm Donhead St. Andrew Parish Church

Participants Concert

A concert given by the participants of the summer school.

Conductors: John Carewe, Michael Tippett.

Morgengesand – C. P. E. Bach

Symphony – Haydn

Sequentia Sanctia Evangeli – Peter Maxwell Davies

Secundam Lucan, in illo Tempore XXII 14-20 (first performance written for the summer school)

Fantasias – Gibbons

[…]

Cover Design by Antony Denning.

Con esto de que han cerrado el portal de podcasting Earth Music Network, donde alojaba mis podcasts con música comercial, me he visto impulsado de una forma muy estimulante y que no sospechaba a buscar alternativas en forma de música libre… o liberada de derechos a causa de los años.

Al tener que buscar un nuevo sitio donde alojar los archivos de audio (de forma gratuita, of course) he estado dando algunas vueltas por un sitio que ya sabía interesante pero que había investigado poco: Archive.org.

Ahí, no solo puedo hospedar mis mp3, sino que hay auténticas maravillas para escuchar, descargar o enlazar directamente. El lugar es un tanto confuso, pero cuando le encuentras el truco hay material de primera para escuchar y no parar.

Para terminar, solo os diré que vais a oír mucho blues antiguo en Solo 24 Horas…

Y aquí os iré dejando algunas otras cositas que tal vez os gusten a vosotros. A mí seguro…

Para muestra un botón: Claro de Luna de Debussy, interpretado por Caela Harrisson. Podéis visitar el sitio y descargar éste y muchos otros archivos aquí. Si solo queréis escucharla, aquí abajo tenéis el player.

¡No puedo evitarlo! ¡Estoy entusiasmado! Así que además os dejo un deliciosa (no le hago justicia con el adjetivo) versión de In The Mod del año 1935 interpretada por Vera Lynn y The Casini Club Orchestra. ¡Qué lo disfrutéis!

Kliknij po opisy instrumentów

W dzieciństwie słuchałem francuskiego twórcy muzyki elektronicznej Jean-Michel Jarre’a. Do moich ulubionych utworów należało Fishing Junks at Sunset z albumu The Concerts in China (dwie kasety full-pirat firmy “Takt”). Dopiero ostatnio dowiedziałem się, że Jarre tego nie skomponował, a po prostu nagrał tradycyjną chińską pieśń. Jej tytuł tłumaczony jest różnie, ale zawiera zazwyczaj słowa “łodzie rybackie” (ew. “rybacy”) i “zmierzch” (ew “zachód słońca”).

Chińska muzyka nie jest dla nas łatwa. Mniejsza o to, że instrumenty inne – omawianą melodię gra na przykład ghuzeng, czyli chińska cytra. Gorzej, że chińska skala też jest nieco inna (w Europie stosował ją m.in. Claude Debussy).  Są to dla nas obce dźwięki i przez to każdy chiński kawałek wydaje się brzmieć tak samo (Chińczyk też mógłby nie odróżniać Feel od Comy). Warto spróbować się wsłuchać, bo satysfakcja później wielka. Zacząć można właśnie od Dżonek rybackich o zmierzchu. “Dżonek”, bo “junk” z tytułu stosowanego przez Jarre’a, to dżonka – taka azjatycka żaglówka.

A oto linki:

Archiwum fajnych chińskich mp3 strony na stronie  ibiblio.org (stąd pochodzi próbka dźwiękowa).

Jean Michel Jarre – Fishing Junks at Sunset, na żywo w Szanghaju.

YouTube, występ fachowego zespołu ludowego: dużo ciekawych instrumentów.

YouTube, wersja nieco bardziej pop, ze śpiewem.

Claude Debussy – Tańce na harfę i orkiestrę (albo Danses sacree et profane), chyba jego najbardziej azjatycki kawałek.