I am recovered from the maladie reported in Post #226. I threw in the towel on trying to do anything productive while sitting up in bed, and slept for 10 hours. That seems to have done the trick.
My eczema has flared, but that will not respond to more sleep.
My wool duvet has gone to the recycling, because, after 20 years of service, it fell apart. A replacement has been ordered. (Just in time, because it's getting chilly at night.)
I am working this weekend.
I am not going to NY Sheep and Wool this October as there is enough going on, and one never knows what will be added at the last minute. I am mulling over some some tentative plans to possibly get away that weekend should scheduling permit, but it will be a hastily arranged trip, not involving booking hotels and such.
Here is a nice performance of the ciaccona by Tarquinio Merula. Harpsichord is (likely) a modern copy of a (likely) 17thC Italian instrument. The sound --typical of the 17th C Italian instruments-- has a relatively flat overtone structure and short decay, so sounds very mellow.
This is a performance of a ciaccona, set by Maurizio Cazzati. Very mellow.
The Ciaccona, remember, is a dance based on a repeated bass line and chord progression, like your standard 8-bar blues song. Using that as a structural framework, the performers would improvise, or composers would compose. Or, perhaps, both.
Now fess up: at least half of you had to fight the urge to shout "Hi ho, Silver; AWAY!!!"
Performed by brothers Jonathan and Tom Scott. They have a CD of piano duets, including the sadly infrequently performed and recorded Fantasie in f minor by Schubert, Opus 103. It's fabulous in a longing and tragic sort of way -- which makes sense if you've ever heard it. Lots of fun to play.
Jonathan Scott has also recorded Edwin Lemare's transcription of the "Ride of the Valkyries" from whichever of the Wagner operas it's from.
Nice, huh? You get the sense of the sweep of the music, without the 8 sopranos hollering "hi-ya ta-hoe!" over the orchestra.
Doesn't have the "holding onto the edge of your seat" fire and sweep of this recording by Anthony Newman at the Cathedral of John the Divine, but then it's a wildly different pipe organ.
let's listen to Dame Myra Hess playing "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring". (Which is her transcription of the chorale "Wohl mir, dass ich Jesum habe" from J S Bach's cantata #147 "Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben". Well, okay; I just said something.)
I am gearing up for some last minute Christmas prep, as well as getting ready to go to NYC next week. My low back fell out of wack late last week. I’m still limping and having to inelegantly slide myself out of chairs; coworkers are concerned that I might not get to NYC, but I have assured them –and everyone else-- that I am going. If you see someone on crutches in the American Museum of Natural History, say hi: it might be me.
Chat around the coffee machine at work this morning turned to considering What a Year This Has Been. The economy was in terrible shape, with far reaching impact into so many people’s lives. There were the financial scandals in the USA and abroad. The news is full of stories about ongoing war. I cannot think of a year when so many people have lost jobs, houses, marriages, and deaths in their immediate family.
All of these things were going on last year and the year before, and they will happen next year as well. Perhaps there has been an increase in these events due to the economy so we naturally hear more news items and “human interest” stories in the media. Perhaps there is more media coverage because there is, somehow, more media. Perhaps I am also just more aware this year than in past years. Or all of those.
My year was pretty much a blur. My manager was talking about a piece of work we did in December 2008, and honestly, I couldn’t even remember it. When it faded back into memory, I wondered if it was, in fact, in December 2008. “Wait,” I said, “wasn’t that in 2007?” “Nope; 2008.”
It had me wondering what else I’d forgotten about. What positive things happened this year? I came up with a few things very quickly – my vacation in Vermont, for example – but finding more than that was a struggle.
Some years ago, a friend nursed his partner at home through his last year of life with AIDS. “It was tough, and lonely and horrible,” he said. “One of the things I did that really helped is that at the end of every day I made a list of at least 5 things that happened that day that were positive. It might have been something as simple as that John held down a meal that day, or that I actually took in the beauty of the sunset. You know, the small things can really count.”
So, here’s what I’m suggesting. Leave a comment, and in it write something that happened to you this year that was positive. Something big or something small, doesn’t matter. Let’s send out the year with a list of positives.
In Other News
Here’s a youtoob video of a piece by Francois Couperin, splendidly played on a nice pipe organ. (The microphone is so close to the pipe chest that it’s picking up the clicking noises made by the mechanical action of the organ. You wouldn’t hear them if you were sitting in the building.) Members of the Couperin family were recognized musicians throughout the French Baroque period; I think they’re practically considered a dynasty. Francois Couperin was nicknamed “Couperin le Grand” – I believe another member of the family named Francois is “Couperin le Petit” – and is best known for his suites of harpsichord music. They fully exploit the sonorities of the harpsichord typical of 18th century France; that’s the instrument Couperin would have heard and played daily and known intimately. The suites sound okay on harpsichords from other countries, but best on French instruments. IMO, they don’t “work” sonically when played on the piano and sound “oily”. (Pianos have a wildly different overtone structure than harpsichords.)
I hope you are all able to enjoy a celebration of the return of the light, and send my best wishes for peace, joy, health and prosperity for 2010. Talk to you next year.
I'm dashing to get caught up and ready to head out in a couple of days to Rhinebeck, so this'll be choppy.
I had a few little purple plums remaining from the haul I brought back from my trip to see Alan and John, and decided that I wanted to try a recipe I'd read about in Richard Sax's Classic Home Desserts: a treasury of heirloom and contemporary recipes from around the world. The "All-Time-Best Summer Fruit Torte" originally appeared in The Elegant But Easy Cookbook by Marian Burros and Lois Levine, and Burros ran it annually for several years in her food column in whatever newspaper she wrote for. (I think it was the New York Times, but I'm likely wrong.) You can find the recipe here.
The torte is simplicity itself: a basic layer of cake on which you lay pieces of fruit, dust with sugar and spice, and bake. In baking, the cake batter rises and tucks in around the pieces of fruit, and really, it's a lot better than this picture would lead you to believe.
The simplicity, though, presents the challenge. Anytime you have a very simple list of ingredients, they have to be fresh and high quality, because their flavour is the flavour of the food. Stale butter -- and I said butter, not margarine -- and tired spices will give you a flat, tired-tasting cake. Flavourless fruit -- meh.
The recipe calls for little purple plums: Sax's cookbook presentation calls for peach slices with a scattering of blueberries, and he also recommends apple slices with fresh cranberries in winter. I think pear slices dusted with cardamom would be very good. (Note: Check Sax's version carefully. In my edition of the cookbook, the recipe calls for 1 tablespoon of baking powder. The online version, linked above, uses 1 teaspoon, and I think that's correct. I mean, it worked splendidly.)
Really; give this a try. It's great, still warm from the oven. Not so good, but still fine after it's cooled for several hours.
In Other News
While drawing up some new playlists for the iPod last night, I was hunting around iTunes and found a recording of oboe concerti by JSBach, performed by Marcel Ponseele backed up by Il Gardellino. (The CD link goes to Amazon.com: I don't know how to link to it in iTunes. Dear god, I am techno challenged...) Now the oboe concerti attributed to Bach are interesting, because while they are listed in the post mortem catalog of his ouvre, no autograph scores exist. Musicologists have "created" the concerti by reverse engineering other works by Bach, based on their understanding of his self-borrowing practices.
But what really caught my eye when scanning the track list, was the last track, an arrangement of Mahler's "Ich Bin Der Welt Abhanden Gekommen" -- one of the songs from his "Ruckert" cycle. I thought it wildly incongruous with the bulk of the tracks: Mahler composed the song at the turn of the 20th century; Bach was writing at the turn of the 18th century. The musical styles are, well, 2 centuries apart. The song setting we usually hear calls for a solo English Horn. The track information said it was arranged for Oboe da Caccia. I was intrigued, and downloaded the album.
The recording as a whole is lovely: the performances are bright and clear, and Ponseele is a gifted performer. It's a fine addition to your library. And the Mahler...wow. The arrangement works, totally, to my ears. (Well, the Mahler-ites won't like it, and I suppose that mezzo-sopranos won't be thrilled that the arrangement doesn't call for a human voice.)
But I realized I'd never heard a solo oboe da caccia. It has a completely different sound from the oboe and the English Horn, I expect because of the brass bell. I can't think of how to describe it: it doesn't even really sound like a double-reed instrument. Very haunting; very lovely.
There's another disc of baroque oboe concerti by Ponseele and Il Gardellino carrying superb presentations of 2 warhorses of the baroque oboe repetoire: the Handel g minor (the first movement shows Handel's brilliance for drama and lyrical writing) and the Marcello d minor. There are 2 charming concerti by Telemann: I'd not heard either. Also included are sinfonia from 3 canatas by JS Bach with solo oboe parts: these are virtuoso show pieces, and Ponseele gives achingly sensitive performances. Wonderful.
And the last track on this disc? An arrangement of Astor Piazzolla's tango "Oblivion". (Of course you know the piece. See this yootoob video.) It's lush and elegant; flows beautifully.
In an effort to inspire some sweetness, gentleness, compassion, generosity, order, introspection and thoughtfulness --amongst other things-- in the world (well: my life, at least), I present this performance of JS Bach's 3 part invention in g minor, (BWV 797). Robert Hill plays it on the fortepiano.
Thank you to everyone who sent ideas about getting a gadget, either in posts or emails. Your thoughts were very useful in my getting clear about how much technology I want. After much consideration I've bought an i-Pod "Nano" (16 GB) which should hold a few Beethoven symphonies, a couple of Bach canatas, some chamber music by Telemann, some gospel tunes, a bit of folk music, etc.
I've downloaded and installed the i-Tunes thingie and am staring at the interface to determine how to get it to talk with the Nano. I must be missing something really obvious. Where is a teen-ager when you need one?
Really, though, thank you for your thoughts. I came very close to getting an i-Phone, but in the end decided that I simply wouldn't use the functionalities it offers.
Part 2
This is a fabulous performance of Maurizio Cazzati's "Ciaconne". There are a few videos of this on YooToob: the piece is played by groups of various sizes, at various speeds, and are of different lengths. This version is stripped down in length and number of performers (2 violins, harpsichord, theorbo), and it is a beautifully restrained and elegant performance.
Part 3
Very busy at work; life is throwing some curveballs. Not inspired to spin or knit. Not sure when I will next post.
The final duet from the opera "L'incoronazione di Poppea", which was either written or compiled by Claudio Monteverdi. Emperor Nero and his mistress Poppea sing a love duet at the end of an opera filled with intrigue, bloodshed, deception, jealousy, plotting and scheming, love lost, love found, etc., etc. (Opera plots didn't change much in 300 years or so.)
Well, "Paradise and Hell". I was was hunting around yootoob earlier this week, and found this Chiacona, which carries a dialog between a citizen of Paradise and 2 from Hell. This is Holy Week, for Christians, so somehow it seems appropriate.
So, a chiacona -- or a chaconne or a ciaconne; different spelling depending which country you lived in -- is a set of variations on a harmonic progression or a set of variations on recurring theme in the bass. In this case, it's both. If you listen carefully, you'll hear the bass theme repeated over and over -- 6 times in each verse. And you'll hear it 9 times in the first 30 seconds, before anyone starts singing.
"Paradiso" is sung by counter-tenor Philippe Jaroussky. "Inferno" is sung by the pair of bass-baritones. Notice how the voice of Paradiso is accompanied only by the plucked strings: the 2 theorbos and the lute. There's a lovely, transparent, gentle sound, and Jaroussky's voice simply floats along above the band. When Inferno is singing, the orchestration fills out: the harpsichord, hammered dulcimer and drum are added, so there's a thicker, heavier, more complex sound: the voices seem to be embedded within the band. It's a wonderful affect created by use of the instruments.
The band is "Arpeggiata", led by the Christina Pluhar. (She's the red-headed theorbo player with the big smile.) Lyrics were copied from scores, found here.
Paradiso:
O che bel stare è stare in Paradiso Dove si vive sempre in fest'e riso Vedendosi di Dio svelato il viso O che bel stare è star in Paradiso. O che bel stare è star in Paradiso.
O how lovely to be in Paradise, where we live in constant laughter and merriment, under the eye of God; how lovely to be in Paradise.
Inferno:
Ohimè che orribil star qui nell'inferno Ove si vive in pianto e foco eterno Senza veder mai Dio in sempiterno Ahi, ahi, che orribil star giù nell'inferno. Ahi, ahi, che orribil star giù nell'inferno.
Alas, how horrible it is to be in Hell! where we live in tears and everlasting fire, without ever seeing God; ay! how horrible to be in Hell.
Paradiso:
Là non vi regna giel, vento, calore, Che il tempo è temperato a tutte l'hore Pioggia non v'è, tempesta, nè baleno, Che il Ciel là sempre si vede sereno. Che il Ciel là sempre si vede sereno.
Here there is never cold, wind or heat, but always temperate weather, nor is there rain, storm or lightning, for Heaven is always calm; how lovely to be in Paradise.
Inferno:
Il fuoco e 'l ghiaccio là, o che stupore Le brine, le tempeste, e il sommo ardore Stanno in un loco tute l'intemperie Si radunan laggiù, o che miserie. Si radunan laggiù, o che miserie.
The fire and ice here, o great wonder! the brine, the storms, and the great burning all in one place, gathered here below; how horrible to be in Hell.
Paradiso:
Havrai insomma là quanto vorrai E quanto non vorrai non haverai E questo è quanto, o Musa, posso dire Però fa pausa il canto e fin l'ardire. Però fa pausa il canto e fin l'ardire.
Words cannot describe the pleasing sound that every instrument makes up there, our citterns and sweet organs join with the shepherds' pipes: how lovely to be in Paradise.
Inferno:
Quel ch'aborrisce qua, là tutto havrai Quel te diletta e piace mai havrai E pieno d'ogni male tu sarai Disperato d'uscirne mai, mai, mai! Disperato d'uscirne mai, mai, mai!
The noise of chains and cauldrons, of swords and knives and hatchets, sound in infernal concert down there, which strikes horrendous fear into your heart; ay! how horrible to be in Hell.
Paradiso:
O che bel stare è star in Paradiso Dove si vive sempr'in fest'e riso Vedendosi di Dio svelato il viso O che bel stare é stare in Paradiso. O che bel stare é stare in Paradiso.
O how lovely to be in Paradise, where we live in constant laughter and merriment, under the eye of God; how lovely to be in Paradise.