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Category: piano

Monday, 1/18/10

Chicago Blues Festival, part 1

Muddy Waters (with James Cotton, harmonica; Otis Spann, piano; Pat Hare, guitar; Andrew Stevenson, bass; Francis Clay, drums), “Got My Mojo Working,” live, Newport Jazz Festival, 1960

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Soon after he got to Chicago, Muddy [Waters] began playing the blues for his friends in relaxed moments, and that led to work playing at rent parties, for small tips and all the whiskey he could drink. ‘You know,’ he said, refilling his glass with champagne, ‘I wanted to go to Chicago in the late thirties, ’cause Robert Nighthawk came to see me and said he was goin’ and get a record. He says, you go along and you might get on with me. I thought, oh, man, this cat is just jivin’, he ain’t goin’ to Chicago. I thought goin’ to Chicago was like goin’ out of the world. Finally he split, and the next time I heard he had a record out. So I started asking some of my friends that had went to Chicago, Can I make it with my guitar? ‘Naww, they don’t listen to that kind of old blues you’re doin’ now, don’t nobody listen to that, not in Chicago. So when I finally come to Chicago, the same person that told me that . . . Dan’s wife, my sister, that’s the same person I started playin’ every Saturday night for, at the rent party in her apartment. Peoples is awful funny.’ He chuckled, savoring the irony. ‘So I started playing for these rent parties, and then I run into Blue Smitty and Jimmy Rogers and we got somethin’ goin’ on. We started playing little neighborhood bars on the West Side, five nights a week, five dollars a night. It wasn’t no big money, but we’s doin’ it.’ They were doing it, all right; they were creating modern blues and laying the groundwork for rock and roll.—Robert Palmer, Deep Blues (1981)

Saturday, 1/16/10

If I were a piece of music (as Barbara Walters might put it), here’s the one I’d want to be (today, anyway): deceptively simple, continually (albeit subtly) changing, perpetually fresh.

Morton Feldman, Triadic Memories, excerpt (1981)/Aki Takahashi, piano

(Feldman’s late piano pieces, including this one, accompany more of my daily life than any other music. Among other things, they work wonders when sleep won’t come [I mean that as a compliment]: slip the CD into the bedside Bose player, turn the volume down, hit the repeat button, and drift.)

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[Triadic Memories is] Feldman’s greatest piano piece, and thus one of the great piano works of the 20th century.—Kyle Gann

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Some modernist composers such as Stockhausen want to embrace everything in their music. Others work by exclusion, ruthlessly paring their music down until only the essential core remains. The American composer Morton Feldman, who died in 1987 aged 61, was perhaps the most ruthless of all these great renouncers. He didn’t want lyricism or complication or any of the storm and stress and conflict that go with ‘expression.’ What he wanted was to ‘tint the air’ with gentle sounds, revealed in slowly changing patterns.—Ivan Hewitt

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Even if you’re not up for discerning the grand construction in Feldman’s meditative, pared-down music, its medicinal value is so strong that, while I was recovering from surgery, it worked as well as Motrin—or the Mozart piano concertos I have used after a wisdom-teeth extraction. Think of what Feldman could do for hangovers.—David Patrick Stearns

Thursday, 1/14/10

No matter how many years I listen to music, there’s still nothing like the thrill of hearing, for the first time, something that grabs you by the collar—as this did last night—and doesn’t let go.

Alfred Schnittke (1934-1998), Concerto for Piano and Strings (1979)/Evgeny Svetlanov, piano, Sinfonie Orchester der USSR

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

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mail

In the Christian’s automobile, no need to worry about a parking space. Amen! [The Dixie Hummingbirds, 1/10/10]

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I want you to know how much I enjoy the music posts.  I learn a lot about many people I really don’t know, and those that I do make for great listening again.

Wednesday, 1/13/10

What did it sound like when Beethoven, seated at the piano, played Bach? For that we have to use our imagination. For this we don’t.

Thelonious Monk plays Duke Ellington, live, Berlin, 1969

“Satin Doll”

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“Sophisticated Lady”

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“Caravan”

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“Solitude”

(Yo, Michael: Thanks for the tip!)

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[T]he only time I’ve ever seen Monk act like a little boy and looking up to somebody [was in the presence of Duke Ellington]. That was his idol.—Joe Termini (quoted in Robin D. G. Kelley, Thelonious Monk: The Life and Times of an American Original [2009])

Tuesday, 1/12/10

I began listening to this piano sonata many years ago, after discovering, at our local library, a recording of it by Claudio Arrau, which I proceeded to check out over and over again (until I finally bought it). Since then I’ve also heard recordings by Artur Schnabel and Wilhelm Kempff and Solomon and Andras Schiff, as well as this one (thanks to my brother-in-law John, who gave it to me as a present years ago). As with any masterpiece, there’s no such thing as a “definitive” performance; it’s inexhaustible. Different performances reveal different dimensions. Listen to the way the dark, subdued second movement opens up to the joyous third movement: it’s one of the most hopeful passages of music I know—one I never tire of hearing.

Beethoven, Piano Sonata No. 21 in C major, Op. 53 (“Waldstein”)/Emil Gilels, piano (1972)

Part 1 (beginning of 1st Movement)

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Part 2 (end of 1st Movement and 2nd Movement [begins at 2:41])

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Part 3 (3rd Movement)

Thursday, 1/7/10

A vocal coach can help with many things—intonation, breathing, range—but not the most important thing: personality.

Blossom Dearie, “Surrey with the Fringe on Top,” live (TV broadcast), early 1960s

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[Blossom Dearie’s voice] would scarcely reach the second storey of a doll’s house.—Whitney Balliett

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[Blossom Dearie’s] the only white woman who ever had soul.—Miles Davis

Wednesday, 1/6/10

Why take a straight path when you can take a crooked one?

Sheila Jordan (with Steve Kuhn, piano; David Finck, bass; Billy Drummond,  drums; Mark Feldman and Barry Finclair, violin; Vincent Lionti, viola;  Harold Birston, cello), “Autumn in New York,” live, 2008, New York (on her 80th birthday)

Tuesday, 1/5/10

captivating, adj. capturing interest as if by a spell. E.g., Betty Carter.

Betty Carter (with Cyrus Chestnut, piano), “Once Upon A Summertime,” live, Japan, 1993

(Watch how she moves when giving way to Cyrus Chestnut’s piano solo [3:40-54]: the elegance of a dancer, the dignity of a queen.)

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If you’re sitting in that audience ready to fight me from the very beginning, I’m going to have a hard time getting to you. But if you’ve got a heart at all, I’m going to get it.—Betty Carter

Monday, 1/4/10

You can talk about her exquisite phrasing: the way she hovers around the beat. But that sort of musical shoptalk barely scratches the surface. Other singers may be able to express joy, or pain, or regret, or longing, or other feelings. But how many other singers are able to convey so many different emotions all at once?

Billie Holiday (with Jimmy Rowles, piano), “My Man,” live

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I hate straight singing. I have to change a tune to my own way of doing it. That’s all I know.

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No two people on earth are alike, and it’s got to be that way in music or it isn’t music.

—Billie Holiday

Saturday, 1/2/10

“Check out Gonzales”—a longtime friend (in a recent email)

Gonzales, Piano Vision (2007)

Part 1

Part 2

(Yo, Scott: Thanks!)