Sometimes I want to hear something that will quicken my pulse; sometimes I want something that will slow it—like this, for instance, which I heard the other night in Chicago, played by the group for whom it was written (a.pe.ri.od.ic). One sound . . . another . . . another . . .
Jürg Frey (1953-), Fragile Balance(2014), excerpt; Ensemble Grizzana (Jürg Frey, clarinet; Mira Benjamin, violin; Richard Craig, flute; Emma Richards, viola; Philip Thomas, piano; Seth Woods, cello); 2015
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lagniappe
reading table
Winter seclusion—
sitting propped against
the same worn post
—Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), translated from Japanese by Sam Hamill (The Sound of Water: Haiku by Basho, Buson, Issa, and Other Poets)
Blossom Dearie (1924-2009), “C’est le Printemps” (“It Might as Well Be Spring”)
(R. Rodgers, O. Hammerstein II; adaptation, J. Sablon), “Plus je t’embrasse” (“Heart of My Heart”) (B. Ryan; adaptation, Max François), live, Paris, 1961
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lagniappe
reading table
Autumn again
getting old is like
a bird flying into a cloud
—Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), translated from Japanese by David Young