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Well, maybe this concerto plan of mine–getting to know the five Beethoven piano concertos–just wasn't a good idea. Or maybe this just isn't the right time for it. It's not you, I say to the second concerto, it's me. I listened to it once inattentively, then three times attentively, or as attentively as I could. And
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The first thing that strikes me about this poem is that I don't know how "Arbuthnot" is to be pronounced. ARbuthnot? ArBUTHnot? Is the "not" even fully pronounced or is the "o" sort of squeezed out, swallowed, as if it were "n't"? I do not know, and these things bother me, in this case every
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I don't listen to the radio very much, but sometimes when I'm making the ten-mile drive into town and don't want to bother picking out music to play from my phone, I press one of three presets on the radio. The three stations are: the one that claims to be "alternative," but doesn't really go
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Peter Hitchens, writing in The Lamp a year or two ago, asserts that le Carré was "Britain’s greatest novelist of the late twentieth century." (I would provide a link to the piece, which is a review of a volume of le Carré's letters, but I'm pretty sure it's subscriber-only). I have too little acquaintance with contemporary
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Though this is one of my favorite Christmas works, I hadn't heard it for five or six years. This year I'd been thinking about it, but didn't have a chance to hear it until a couple of days after Christmas, and then I listened to it twice in as many days. As we're still in
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A couple of days ago someone added a comment on an old post in which there was some discussion of the correct pronunciation of "slough." Three possible pronunciations were mentioned there: rhymes with "cow"; sounds like "slew"; rhymes with "puff." Out of curiosity, I did a search for "how do you pronounce slough" and got
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Not exactly or only the nativity–the Incarnation, the boldness of it. Glorious the sun in mid career; Glorious th' assembled fires appear; Glorious the comet's train: Glorious the trumpet and alarm; Glorious th' almighty stretch'd-out arm; Glorious th' enraptur'd main: Glorious the northern lights a-stream; Glorious the song, when God's the theme; Glorious the
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Who? If you're asking that question: The Call were a band who were moderately successful in the 1980s. Only moderately successful, but respected by both critics and musicians to a greater degree than their general popularity would indicate. If my memory is correct, which it may not be, I heard of them because there was
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Most of the poetry I read is from the 19th and 20th centuries. The tendency of the first is strongly in the direction of passion; of the second, of alienation and obscurity. Both tend to treat the experience of poetry, both as writer and reader, as a somewhat eccentric thing, very much off the track
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One night at least a month ago, perhaps two, I was browsing in my 22,469 mp3 files*, looking for some classical piece to listen to before bed–something no more than fifteen minutes or so in length, and not overly intense or demanding. This album caught my eye: not the image, but the words "solo viola."
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Light On Dark Water 