On our last night in Maine we went to the St. John Episcopal Church in Southwest Harbor for a harpsichord concert by Gavin Black. The concert benefited the Westside Food Pantry, which serves several of the surrounding communities.
Mr. Black played Bach’s Overture in the French style, which consists of an overture followed by a collection of short dances. The piece allowed him to use both keyboards of his harpsichord and, through various minute adjustments in the position of the keyboards, extract all of the different sounds a harpsichord can produce. Interestingly, he used a tablet device to display the music and “turned the pages” by means of a foot pedal. The encore was a short piece by Couperin, one of Bach’s older contemporaries.
After the concert we went down to the basement of the church for a chance to talk with Mr. Black, who explained that a harpsichord is much closer, musically, to a lute than it is to a piano. It’s an interesting instrument that produces lovely, distinctive music when played by an expert like Mr. Black. It’s particularly well suited to the sinuous, complex compositions of the baroque era.
The little church, with a colorful (and sea-oriented) stained glass window above the altar, was a pretty spot for a concert, with good acoustics. It was a treat to end our trip with some beautiful music and a chance to contribute to a good cause, too.
I like clockwork. We have a bunch of old clocks, pocket watches, and wall clocks in our home, and I treasure every one.
I love the intricacy of the clocks. I love the brass fittings, the old glass, the differently sized gears, and the precisely calibrated, finely polished pieces of machinery that allow you to accurately account for time if you just keep the clock wound properly. I imagine the clockmaker and watchmaker sitting at a cluttered desk, wearing some kind of magnifying glasses, scrupulously putting the pieces together and carefully tightening the screws.
Whenever I see an old clock, I think of baroque music. The intricacy and precision of Bach and Boccherini and Albinoni seem well suited to provide the soundtrack for clockwork.
When I was in law school, I got into the habit of listening to Call Me The Breeze by Lynyrd Skynyrd the morning before every exam. The high-octane music, mixed in with some clumsy air guitar, got the blood pumping and charged me up for the challenge looming immediately ahead.
Thirty years later, music still sets my mood. I’ll thumb the iPod menu down to the Shuffle Songs setting for my morning walk, and the randomly selected songs I hear will stick in my head for hours, playing in a continuous loop during mental down time moments until a new song pushes them aside. And I can help that process by selecting songs to match my appointments for the day. If I’m going to be doing some careful analytical thinking, nothing can prime that high-end mental pump like the intricate melodies of J.S. Bach and his baroque music buddies. If I’ve got a deposition that might be contentious, I’ll try to soothe things in advance with some Coltrane. If I will be writing, I’ll look for something upbeat and flowing. And if I ever needed to storm the barricades, I’d play Rage Against The Machine’s The Battle Of Los Angeles.
Lately I’ve been playing waltzes and similar music from my Vienna Evening iPod playlist in the morning. As Stanley Kubrick recognized in 2001, waltz music goes well with motion and sunrises. The swirling sounds mesh perfectly with a whirl around the Yantis Loop and then some crack-of-dawn watering of the flower beds, as I move the fine spray of water back and forth to the rhythm.