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Category: reading table

Sunday, February 23rd

testify

Jackson Southernaires, “Can’t Make It By Myself,” live, Jackson, Miss., 1996

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lagniappe

reading table

Barn’s burnt down—
now
I can see the moon.

—Mizuta Masahide, 1657-1723 (translated from Japanese by Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto)

Tuesday, February 18th

never enough

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827), Piano Sonata No. 21 in C major, Op. 53 (“Waldstein”); Daniel Barenboim (piano), live, Berlin, 2005

This piece, even after decades of listening, never fails to sweep me away: its second (11:30-) and third (15:45-) movements are as intimate, as panoramic, as thrilling as anything I know.

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lagniappe

reading table

Lorrie Moore, reading from her new story collection (Bark):

Tuesday, February 11th

alone

Ran Blake (1935-), pianist, composer, teacher, MacArthur “genius” grant winner

Above the Sadness (trailer), 2011


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Live, “Over the Rainbow,” Portugal (Lisbon), 2010


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Live (at home), 2001


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lagniappe

reading table

‘[L]ife holds thee; not thou it.’

—Herman Melville (1819-1891), Moby Dick

Saturday, February 1st

sounds of Chicago

Michael Zerang and the Blue Lights (MZ, drums; Mars Williams, alto saxophone; Dave Rempis, baritone saxophone; Josh Berman, cornet; Kent Kessler, bass), live, Chicago (Hideout), 2013


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lagniappe

reading table

Now, in general, Stick to the boat, is your true motto in whaling; but cases will sometimes happen when Leap from the boat, is still better.

—Herman Melville (1819-1891), Moby-Dick

Tuesday, January 21st

passings

Claudio Abbado, conductor, June 26, 1933-January 20, 2014

Gustav Mahler (1860-1911), Symphony No. 5 (4th Movt.); Lucerne Festival Orchestra (Claudio Abbado, cond.), live, 2004

I love watching him conduct: his hands and arms embody the music, moving with the grace, and the precision, of a ballet dancer.

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lagniappe

reading table

[T]he time of death is every moment . . .

—T. S. Eliot, “The Dry Salvages”

Wednesday, January 15th

passings

Roy Campbell Jr., trumpeter, September 29, 1952-January 9, 2014

Live (RC, pocket trumpet; Rasul Siddik, trumpet; Jobic Le Masson, piano; Aldridge Hansberry, drums), Paris, 2006


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lagniappe

reading table

In the dirty city
one rare glimpse—
mountain moon

—Matsuo Basho (1644-1694, translated from Japanese by David Young)

Wednesday, January 1st

Something quiet, and lyrical, and beautiful to begin the year.

Frederic Chopin (1810-1849), Nocturne in D-flat major, Op. 27, No. 2; Shura Cherkassky (1909-1995), piano, 1956


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lagniappe

reading table

year after year—
the monkey wearing
a monkey’s mask

—Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), New Year’s Day, 1693 (translated from Japanese by David Landis Barnhill)

Tuesday, December 31st

never enough

Johann Sebastian Bach, Partita No. 2 in C minor, BWV 826; Martha Argerich, piano, live, Switzerland (Verbier Festival), 2008


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lagniappe

radio

WKCR’s Bach Festival, now in its tenth day, concludes at midnight.

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reading table

Those who love their own noise are impatient of everything else. . . . Our noise, our business, our purposes, and all our fatuous statements about our purposes, our business, and our noise: these are the illusion.

—Thomas Merton, No Man Is An Island

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no passport needed

This year folks from ninety-five countries stopped by to listen. Welcome, all.

Sunday, December 29th

One of my favorite live gospel recordings.

Brother Joe May (joined by members of the Sallie Martin Singers), “Move On Up A Little Higher,” live, early 1950s

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lagniappe

radio

Today, from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.,  WKCR-FM (Columbia University), continuing its Bach Festival, features cellist Pablo Casals.

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reading table

Poverty kept me from thinking all was well under the sun and in history; the sun taught me that history is not everything.

—Albert Camus (translated from French by Ellen Conroy Kennedy)

Thursday, December 26th

what’s new

Julianna Barwick, live (studio performance), Seattle, 11/22/13

“Look Into Your Own Mind”


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“Crystal Lake”


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lagniappe

reading table

The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens (1879-1955)

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

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Stevens’s poems force us, as great poems always do, to live in the occasion of their language—not simply to extract a ‘meaning’ from the language. The point is not so much to understand the poems (for when we understand something, we don’t need it anymore, and we don’t read it again); the point is to inhabit the poems. By doing so, we recognize that our humanity is not constituted by our ‘mastery’ of something. It is constituted by our willingness to humble ourselves to the ‘mystery’ of something.

—James Longenbach