Are there “wolf tones” on modern amps or speakers? Frequencies within the range where the thing is supposed to function well where it just goes haywire for whatever reason? Or is this just a thing on the 18th century amps known as fiddle bodies?
I need to keep that in mind for the D mixo thing. I managed to get very latched onto a particular rhythm in the left hand that does not match the far more legato left hand in the coda that I’ve got worked up. That’s got to be the function performed by the next little bit — getting into that more legato groove instead of what it’s been so far.
It’s really surprising where the music will wander off to, and it’s good to have a coda in mind, since it gives you someplace to wander off from, and then shepherd your way back to. And to do so in a way that feels natural and compelling and beautiful. I’ve always likened certain forms of writing to ballroom dancing in a minefield. How do you miss the mines and still craft a dance that looks completely natural and flowing, as if you’d have created it no differently even if the mines weren’t there? Freedom within a framework.
A short review: both albums are worthwhile, but the second album is better music than the first. Although the first, “One Cello x 16: Natoma,” has some standout pieces on it, there are more than a few pieces that strike me as if Keating were sort of frobbing the dials on this new way of recording and making music and finding out what she could accomplish with it, very avant-garde and more interesting in an “under the hood” sense. The second, “Into the Trees,” sounds as if she had sort of settled out her toolbox and found things to say.
For anyone curious about Keating’s methods and stories, I’d recommend buying both albums. For anyone who simply wants nice music to listen to, get “Into the Trees” and leave “Natoma” for later.
Personally, I do like both, but “Natoma” is a bit more like whiskey, more interesting than tasty. “Trees” is both.
… I’m going to explode:
This was written in 1691. Sixteen-freaking-ninety-one. Three hundred and twenty years ago. Please don’t tell me that music from thirty, fifty, or a hundred years ago isn’t “relevant” to you.
What it must have been to hear it at its premiere.
I’ve listened to a decent amount of that era’s music and earlier, as a fan of the high male voice, and I’ve been lukewarm toward some … but not Purcell’s stuff. Every single time I’m listening to Assorted Real Old Stuff Sung Up High By Guys and my ears prick up, it turns out it’s always something Purcell wrote. What a shame he died so young — another Mozart-level loss.
And the Nomi version for comparison:
What an incredible piece of music … Props to Nomi for grabbing it and bumping it up into a register that truly works with the music and the message, and its glittery, freezing atmosphere. Another one who died way too young.
Gawd, I hope he sings this when I see him live with the English Concert. It says they’re doing some stuff from “King Arthur,” so I can only hope this will be included. If it is, I will have heard Michael Maniaci do “Cara Speme” and “Ombra mai fu” live, David Daniels do “Furibondo,” and now this — and I’ve heard Scholl do “Vivi, tiranno,” “Va tacito,” and “Dove sei?” live in a recital with the Australian Chamber Orchestra! *fist pump*
– when you finger the third hole down with your pinky.
Well, not “easier” per se. Maybe “less painful.” I wish the thing came with a rest of some kind so that the weight of it could go on my knee. It’s a bit to hold up and play at the same time.
And I’m still kind of grossed out at the idea of swabbing spit out of the thing. X-P It will sound fine, until it doesn’t, and it starts to sputter like an old beater pickup truck with water in the fuel line. Which I suppose is a fine metaphor.
It’s getting easier, especially with that pinky trick. But it’s still going to take some doing. I’ll see about “Con rauco mormorio,” since hey, it’s in D right?
Three whole days during which to play piano (and hopefully viola), not shower until I have to, sip coffee, screw around online, tootle on that tenor recorder to the best of my ability, walk around in my pajamas, pet my cat while she purrs at me, and arrange/write music.
HEAVEN. Untrammeled HEAVEN.
I WANT MY VIOLA BACK NOW.
Shit. I’m stuck on this goddamned thing, aren’t I? I’m not even any good! I’ve backed up to the first Bach jewelry-box minuet in Suzuki v1 again and am on the third go-around of the rest of that book, and then I’ve got three passes through the Fitzpatrick stuff that I’ve already done, and after I’m finished with that, I contact my teacher again and see if he’s up for resumption of lessons.
*sigh* I do not believe this. I can’t put the stupid thing down. And I can’t wait to get him back and see if the string length is shorter.
Update: NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!!! *sits down and wails while banging heels against the floor*
You know what else is rough about this thing?
There’s nothing to push against. With the viola, you can feel the strings and the bow, and the reaction of the instrument feeding back into your arm. There’s friction. With the piano of course you’re pushing levers around, and they have weight and resistance.
With this thing, there’s no resistance. It’s like balancing in the air — if it were a hydraulic system, I’d say that there was no back pressure. That’s severely challenging.
On the good side, vibrato is a snap and a half.
1) My right wrist hurts. I’m avoiding middle C.
2) I think D will be a nice key in this thing.
3) It’s hard to play something where you can’t see where you have to put your fingers. That’s a difficulty I hadn’t anticipated; piano and viola both put your hands under your eyes.
4) That said, it sounds pretty, and quiet. Quiet is nice.