During yesterdays attempt to consolidate all my running around, gas-burning chores into one green trip, which, due to forgetfulness, confusion and not knowing when the library opened, turned out to be anything but efficient, I became aware of some Bach piano music on the radio (KING FM).
Nothing unusual in that, of course, but just as I was fantasizing about a Columbo design Ferrari V-12 engine(the one with the ball bearing roller cam followers and the hairpin valve springs) I heard a faint human voice.
Well, It was Glenn Gould, wasn't it?
So I listened more carefully, (one of the English suites)
Notes like little ice cubes floating off the keyboard perfectly choreographed all exactly in the proper place and time.
This was the high point of that trip, or I should say, trips, eventually involving, due to my lack of adequately composed mentis, four of 'em.
I decided to bag any thoughts of efficiency and hole up with mindless entertainment and junk food.
When I got home with a couple VCRs and a bag of Tim's Cascade Wasabi flavored potato chips the day's sojourn was made complete by the realization that the bag I had bought was, in reality, sour cream and onion.
Anyway on to the concert at the Chapel, which was about pianos and the sounds they can make.
First on the bill was Dawn Clement
Local artist, works at Cornish, I believe.
Jazzy renderings of original works and some Beatles'
Lush resonant music, making good use of the piano's warmth and depth.
The first thing that caught my eye was when she smiled once while playing, which reminded me of a famous photograph of Glenn Gould playing, seated on his little bench with a rapturous smile on his face.
And Jacqueline Du Pre holding her cello similarly transported.
Or album covers of Janis Joplin looking like she's having a hell of a good time.
It just looks like such a joyful place to be.
Anyway, Dawn didn't play like Glenn, her playing was warm and human.
Wasn't anything like Glenn Gould, either.
For one thing, he wore a short sleeved shirt instead of being all wrapped up in winter gear with a wool scarf and gloves
Larry is a Los Angeles based artist.
Where it's warm
all the time (I dream of that warmth)
For another thing, he sat up straight on the bench, which was a normal bench (the soft, padded one with the knob on the side, not the jackscrew thing that the Marx brothers used to make fun of)
And too, he didn't throw an infantile fit as I shook his hand when Alex introduced us.
The important thing was his playing of his "comprovisations" which were artful, intellectual, inspiring and moving and energetic.
One piece improvised over a repeated ground (not unlike one of Frank Zappas guitar solo marathons over Ruth Underwood's percusso continuo) reminded me of long distance driving.
Later, when he later announced that the name of another piece as "Rush" he indicated that L.A. traffic might have something to do with it.
The music was...
Dense, deep, passionate, if words could do the job, we wouldn't need the music, would we?
So I'll just say that during the performance I began to extrapolate Beethoven's artistic evolution and wondered whether had he survived through the jazz age, might not his music have been something like this.
I don't believe in recaps, if you didn't get it the first time, go listen again.*
I only had two regrets for the evening.
I didn't bring my "Feel Free to Laugh" cards and hustle readership.
I wore my "Everything I know, in life I learned from Frank Zappa" t-shirt but buttoned my overshirt so that no one could see it and realize how hip I am.
Sic Semper Gloria Mundi
Labels: non compos mentis