Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), Suite No. 1 in G major for Unaccompanied Cello; Anner Bylsma, live, Germany (Dornheim), 2000
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As I’ve said, I first encountered Bach’s cello suites in the ’70’s, when I was in college. Since then they’ve lost none of their magnetic power—it’s only increased. Living without them is unimaginable.
I need your advice. I’ve developed this mad crush on a musical instrument—the viola. It’s so dark, so mysterious. I’m obsessed! What should I do?
Sincerely,
Desperate in Denver
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Dear Desperate,
There’s only one thing you can do—give in.
Yours,
MCOTD
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Benjamin Britten (1913-1976), Lachrymae (1950; arranged for viola and string orchestra, 1976); New York Classical Players (Dongmin Kim, cond.) with Kim Kashkashian (viola), live, New York (Church of the Heavenly Rest), 2011
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lagniappe
musical thoughts
Four things are needed to survive: air to breathe; water to drink; food to eat; music to hear.
John Cage (1912-1992), Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano (1946-1948); Louis Goldstein, piano, live, Winston-Salem, N.C. (Reynolda House Museum of American Art), 1982
What I love about this performance is its directness. He doesn’t treat these pieces as arty exotica. He plays them as simply and naturally, as musically, as one might play Bach, or Mozart, or Chopin.
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lagniappe
musical thoughts
I remember loving sound before I ever took a music lesson. And so we make our lives by what we love.
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A sound does not view itself as thought, as ought, as needing another sound for its elucidation, as etc.; it has not time for any consideration–it is occupied with the performance of its characteristics: before it has died away it must have made perfectly exact its frequency, its loudness, its length, its overtone structure, the precise morphology of these and of itself.
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They say, “you mean it’s just sounds?” thinking that for something to just be a sound is to be useless, whereas I love sounds just as they are, and I have no need for them to be anything more than what they are. I don’t want them to be psychological. I don’t want a sound to pretend that it’s a bucket or that it’s president or that it’s in love with another sound. I just want it to be a sound.
They play each note as if, at that particular moment, nothing in the world is more important.
György Kurtág (1926-) and Márta Kurtág, live, Kurtág (Játékok [Games]) and Bach (miscellaneous transcriptions), Paris, 2012
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lagniappe
musical (and other) thoughts
Q. One last question—are you a believer?
A [G. Kurtág]. I do not know. I toy with the idea. Consciously, I am certainly an atheist, but I do not say it out loud, because if I look at Bach, I cannot be an atheist. Then I have to accept the way he believed. His music never stops praying. And how can I get closer if I look at him from the outside? I do not believe in the Gospels in a literal fashion, but a Bach fugue has the Crucifixion in it—as the nails are being driven in. In music, I am always looking for the hammering of the nails. . . . That is a dual vision. My brain rejects it all. But my brain isn’t worth much.
—Alex Ross, New Yorker blog, quoting György Kurtág: Three Interviews and Ligeti Homages (2009)