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Colleagues' music that moves me now.

William Lawes @ the dawn of early morning

11/27/2018

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This performance by Phantasm is one among many that I have on my iTunes' frequently played list. At last count, I've listened to this fantasy eighty-seven times.
There are a few reasons why I am moved by this music. 
  1. Each instrument is playing its own melody. Not one of the melodies is boring.
  2. The Fantasy starts in a long, low, slow arc of six notes upwards to the first discernible melody. I like to move my arms in tandem with these slow arcs...and then soon, I am slowly waving them over my head as if they are branches of a stately birch tree moved by a gentle breeze; then I find myself moving around the room in an Allemande, then a Pavane, a Galliard and then back to a birch tree sunning itself in the risen sun. And thus, I move and am moved.
  3. Lawes' music was forgotten -- because it was jarringly dissonant and/or antique to the next generation, because he was a Catholic and a Royalist and fought on the losing side during a horrifying religious civil war, and because his greatest works were caught in that transition from modal to tonal musical language - a revolution of style and substance. William was loyal to Charles the First during the Civil War (1642-1651) and was killed by an errant bullet in the Battle of Rowton Heath. His body was lost and there is no burial spot.
  4. The music moves in spine-tingling ways; but it is abrupt change sometimes and then settles in great repose within a minute. Quicksilver, it is sensual and vicious like a Gesualdo madrigal and intellectually rigorous like Bach counterpoint. His music's charms require patience and concentrated attention to time, gesture, and affect.
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Hear, smith of the heavens

11/27/2018

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 Heyr himna smi∂ur (Hear! Smith of the Heavens) caught my ear while aimlessly wading through YouTube in 2016. This performance is made all the better because the recording is impromptu while a skimpy crowd gathers 'round just as our sextet conjures the 13th century Icelandic poet and chieftain Kolbeinn Tumason to the Heavens Above. What adds to its authentic charm is the clamor of the crowd, the blaring train announcement, poor acoustics and shaky camera work. The music is timeless and lovingly time-warn through the oral tradition, right? Nothing could or should be this simple or easy.
I invoke the Three Laws:
  1. Things Are Always More Complicated Than They First Appear -- the music was composed by the Icelander, Porkell Sigurbjörnsson (1938-2013);
  2. Things Are Different in the South -- it was recorded in a train station in Wuppertal, Germany. (south...of Iceland); and 
  3. Beware the Law of Unintended Consequences. This performance has been viewed nearly 7 million times. (quite unintended).
All the same, it moves me to see the lads assemble themselves in the yellow-green light of the train concourse and send the echoes up into the rafters; sustained and magical. Why does it catch me off-guard every time and with a catch in my throat?
Hear, smith of the heavens,
what the poet asks.
May softly come unto me
thy mercy.
So I call on thee,
for thou hast created me.
I am thy slave,
thou art my Lord.

God, I call on thee
to heal me.
Remember me, mild one,
Most we need thee.
Drive out, O king of suns,
generous and great,
human every sorrow
from the city of the heart.

Watch over me, mild one,
Most we need thee,
truly every moment
in the world of men.
send us, son of the virgin,
good causes,
all aid is from thee,
in my heart.
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BEN JOHNSTON String Quartet #4 (Amazing Grace)

11/27/2018

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I consider this work one of the masterpieces of the latter part of the 20th-Century. As John Rockwell, formerly the new music partisan and advocate at the New York Times, Johnston is "one of the best non-famous composers this country has to offer..." Repeated listening has only underscored how magnificent this work is (to me). Love love love this performance by the Denali Quartet. Music for the Ages as far as I'm concerned. Dr. Johnston taught at the University of Illinois in Champ-bana from the early 50s to the mid-80s. He lives to this day in North Carolina. More information about Mr. Johnston is here.
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RODGERS & HAMMERSTEIN "You'll Never Walk Alone"

11/27/2018

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Rodgers & Hammerstein worked in post-war American, back in that time when many Americans of a certain age remember that the USA was Great. This musical looked at sexual predators and spousal abuse square in the face and some would say it flinched. This final footage of the film chokes me up every time, even to this day, because it flinches and tries to wriggle out of the grip of terror and violence and manipulation. In fact, I think some could see this scene as a grand manipulation, as well.
I would disagree based on what we know (through factual reporting) that abused women often rationalize their love for their abuser. This musical's undertow is that the only escape from Billy Bigelow (the abuser) was for him to die in an accident. The abuse is not resolved. The abuser avoids punishment. The abused gives her unqualified forgiveness and love. And we do not have any "justice" in the story...and the music romanticizes and puts a gloss on what has happened. We still use music this way.
Except, we might want to listen again to the opening measures of the musical, "Carousel."
​The happy theme of the eponymous carousel is put into a darker, more foreboding context which I think is absolutely intentional on the part of Richard Rodgers. R&H wrote other musicals that addressed social injustices of their day: "South Pacific," "The King & I," "The Sound of Music," and "Flower Drum Song." As they worked together, each new musical they premiered seemed to carry deeper and deeper social (in)justice messages. Their work becomes more important with each passing year, as well.
I'm working with my band, Paris1919 on a show in February 2019 that is tentatively titled "Dark..." The dark is something we all fear, and rightfully so and it is in part due to Trump, who is never far from our thoughts these days because he never wants to be out of our thoughts and often those thoughts are horrifying and threatening. As we create the music for our February show I will be thinking of "You Never Walk Alone." It gives me creepy, dark and hair-raising chills every time I hear it.
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Tom Jobim "Águas Março" (The Waters of March)

11/27/2018

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The epitome and genius of cool, in my book, is António Carlos Jobim (aka Tom Jobim). He is cool, in the superficial sense, because of his personal affect: well-educated, urbanity, humor, nonchalance, understated, Brazilian in the 60s. He invented cool in the 60s. Watch this video of him and Sinatra -- who is cool and who wants to be cool?
More interesting to me, is his more substantial and lasting cool. He melds together a sophisticated harmonic language with simple (sometimes monotonous) melodies; pessimism (no other word will do) and frustrated desires is his tone; love, life, society, and humanity is his poetic inspiration.
This particular song (The Waters of March) captures his essence more than any of dozens of remarkable songs. Pessimism and hope woven together in lyric and harmony. Ah. Jobim.
A stick, a stone
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump
It's a little alone

It's a sliver of glass
It is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death
It's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms
A fox in the brush
A knot in the wood
The song of a thrush

The wood of the wind
A cliff, a fall
A scratch, a lump
It is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free
It's the end of the slope
It's a beam, it's a void
It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the end of the strain
The joy in your heart

The foot, the ground
The flesh and the bone
The beat of the road
A slingshot's stone

A fish, a flash
A silvery glow
A fight, a bet
The range of a bow

The bed of the well
The end of the line
The dismay in the face
It's a loss, it's a find

A spear, a spike
A point, a nail
A drip, a drop
The end of the tale

A truckload of bricks
In the soft morning light
The shot of a gun
In the dead of the night

A mile, a must
A thrust, a bump
It's a girl, it's a rhyme
It's a cold, it's the mumps

The plan of the house
The body in bed
And the car that got stuck
It's the mud, it's the mud

Afloat, adrift
A flight, a wing
A hawk, a quail
The promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

A stick, a stone
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump
It's a little alone

A snake, a stick
It is John, it is Joe
It's a thorn in your hand
And a cut in your toe

A point, a grain
A bee, a bite
A blink, a buzzard
A sudden stroke of night

A pin, a needle
A sting, a pain
A snail, a riddle
A wasp, a stain

A pass in the mountains
A horse and a mule
In the distance the shelves
Rode three shadows of blue

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the promise of life
In your heart, in your heart

A stick, a stone
The end of the road
The rest of a stump
A lonesome road

A sliver of glass
A life, the sun
A knife, a death
The end of the run

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the end of all strain
It's the joy in your heart
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    Composer Randall Davidson creates music, and performs, produces, and promotes music of others. This blog is an annotated, virtual playlist of the music that he loves and that he calls "sticky" (aka memorable​).

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  • Home
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