Getting Loose

Love Hurts

I had heard this for years, but only vaguely knew the words.  All I really knew was the tune, and that the tune moved me.  I did not even know the group or the lyricists, but have since discovered that Roy Orbison and the Everly Bros. recorded it as well.  Enjoy.

Adagio

This is from Khachaturian's Gayne Ballet Suite.  It is some good stuff if you feel blue or depressed and just want to have some music to parallel what you feel.

 

 

Aase's Death

Well, since this is my blog, here is another piece that moves my soul.

The Cherubim

In the Bible study I have been teaching on Wednesday mornings at the village church, we recently were looking at chapter 6 of the scroll of the prophet Isaiah.  That led to a discussion about the 9 ranks of angels with the seraphim being next to God himself, and the cherubim just below them. 

I had remembered that P. I. Tschaikovsky, one of my absolute favorite composers, had composed some piece of work about that rank of angels, and here it is.

I remember how it blew me away the first time I heard it by chance at night on my car radio years ago.  I was alone.  I tell you, the composer was a genius . . .  or very, very sensitive . . . like Mozart.  As I listen, I shake my head in amazement and wonder.

If you want to get blown away, turn up the sound and listen to it at night with the lights off, or with just a few candles lit.  You will be within aural proximity to the antechamber of paradise.

I'd Have to Be Crazy

I know.  I know.  I haven't written on here in forever.  And I need to do better.  But anyway, there is a Willie Nelson song that really haunts me . . . the music more than the lyrics.  It's old, but relatively new to me.  Enjoy.

The Organ

I love organ music. I always have.

Two of my most favorite composers are French. One is Henri Mulet. The other is Charles Marie Widor.

Mulet composed

 

"Tu Es Petra"

Widor wrote many pieces, but amongst my most favorite is

the Toccata from Symphony No. 5.

Another favorite is "Le Jardin Suspendu" by Alain

but I think this is not the best of recordings.

Turn up your speakers, or go get some decent ones if you want a treat.

Star Dust

I know that there are a lot of Christians who listen to so-called "religious" radio stations. I have never really cared much for that kind of musical format. But, then, I can also remember over 30 years ago saying the same kind of thing about country and western format stations. At the time, I did not care for them. I’ve changed a little on that score.

I took the Church Lady today to pick up her car, and being as nosey as she is, she immediately proceeded to go through my little stash on CD’s that were out in public view. I’m not sure if she actually said these words, but I at least got to thinking, "You can tell a lot about a person by the kind of music they listen to."

She started going through them like so many cards in a hand. "Well who is this? Liquid Mind? What’s that? Patsy Cline." And then there was a Sam Kennison CD. "You listen to that? What kind of a minister are you?" (That would probably take several posts to figure that out myself) "Dusty Springfield? Who is that?" I put it in and punched in a couple of songs she could identify. And then I dropped her off.  But one of the CD’s I hadn’t listened to in a while was by Nat King Cole. The song in particular that really stirs me deeply is Star Dust—it is one of my absolute, all time favorites. I think the musical score is by Nelson Riddle.

I remember months ago looking up what I could find out about Hoagy Carmichael who wrote it. I listened to a couple of other versions recorded by Frank Sinatra and others back in the 1940's much closer to the time when it was written, but this particular version by Nat King Cole is absolutely haunting. Mitchell Parish wrote the lyrics to this song which are so poetic as to be nearly beyond belief. He also wrote the lyrics to Deep Purple.

And now the purple dusk of twilight time
Steals across the meadows of my heart
High up in the sky the little stars climb
Always reminding me that were apart.
You wander down the lane and far away . . .

Why does that song get to me so? Besides its musical gentility, and lyrical beauty that is deeply disquieting, I suppose it reminds me somewhat of the most painful episode in my life back in 1996. I felt as if I had been excoriated. And one particular evening I was in a base camp up about 6,000 feet in New Mexico. I needed to get away by myself and wandered to a deserted amphitheater, laid down on one of the wooden benches that had no back and stared up into the sky trying to make sense of what had happened in my life. The tears flowed, the stars were like jewels in the sky—there were so many, and their light seemed so close, and my heart was so broken.

Don't Tell Mama

One image that I still cannot get out of my mind was the time that our two youngest sons and I spent on a Tuesday night last week at Don’t Tell Mama in New Amsterdam. There was a piano player there, by the name of Tracy Stark who had to be one of the most phenomenal piano players I have ever heard. She rarely looked at the keys. She could sight read anything. She had tons of tunes stored in her head. It was like that the piano was an extension of her soul. I was shocked, astonished, amazed. There were several open mike singers that evening, and all of them were helped because of the amazing talents of that woman. We were treated to a whole panoply of styles from wickedly funny to cutting edge mea culpa recognition for crimes of the past (performed by son # 3 no less). You should have been there.