upcoming event: Saturday, March 18,
2023 Songs from an Irish Musical Hall
with soprano Jett Downey
click on the picture to the right for
tickets
this week's featured
recording for Friday, March 10, 2023
The final
recording I made at Third
Church does not, shall we say,
have the Presbyterian
seriousness of some of the
others! It is, nevertheless, a
composition for a church
service, at least according to
its strange title. "The Hunt"
is, so sayeth its composer,
"for the serving of the
offertory." No wonder French
clerics often complained. It
wasn't the only time the
sacred space was party to a
romp during the collection;
probably it was because the
rules, mainly quite strict,
were relaxed for this part of
the service, and the organist
could play pretty much
whatever they wanted--and did!
I dedicate this piece to my
own favorite hunter,
Rosamunda, who likes to hunt
strings. She can be
seen, at right, letting me
know she wants to play by
tapping me on the shoulder
with her paw.
Suitable
for my purposes
My childhood piano teacher was not shy with
her opinions. Referring to the upright piano
which was my practice instrument at home, she
said, rather brusquely, "well, that is just
NOT suitable for your purposes!"
My mother chuckled about that for years. But
then she began to feel that Mrs. Meck might
have a point. After I went to college to study
music, it was decided I should get a grand
piano after all. And thereby hangs a tale.
We went to a house in a wealthy neighborhood
near Cleveland. The woman selling her piano
did not play one. Her only concern was that a
specimen be available for parties, so that
someone could be heard tickling the plastic
for the background edification of her guests.
It was a status symbol, and so naturally, she
wanted only the best. A Yamaha conservatory
grand is a good piano, but it does not scream
luxury and gobs of disposable income the way a
9-foor concert Bosendorfer does. In those
days, these pianos went for around $60,000.
Now you would pay around a quarter of a
million dollars for one.
It is said that those who can play Steinways
cannot afford them, and that those who can
afford them cannot play them. I wish now we
had somehow managed to acquire a Steinway, but
a Yamaha is a good piano, and it was a pretty
steep price to pay as it was. Yamaha pianos
are entirely factory-made, and, absent the
individual craftsmanship and meticulous
attention to detail that make Steinways
preferable by most concert professionals,
their quality is nevertheless consistently
high. Their tone can get very bright, but you
can still do a lot with the instrument. They
hold up pretty well, too. In the three decades
since I've doubtless logged millions of notes
and the instrument is still in fine shape,
needing few repairs, and even holding its tune
remarkably well.
It isn't the piano that has been causing me
trouble all of these years. It is the bench.
As we were preparing to leave, taking the
bench with us, the woman said petulantly, "oh,
the bench is not included."
We were stunned. I knew what kind of person
this lady was, but that seemed a little over
the top even for her. The bench is extra?
"It's another $250."
I don't think any of us were interesting in
playing her game at this point. But I had to
ask, "if we don't take the bench, what are you
planning to do with it?" Oh, she lied. I'll
put flowers in it.
Mind you, this was not a particularly fine
specimen of a bench. It was not the kind that
greets the backside of concert pianists as
they prepare to do battle with concert
Steinways in prestigious venues. It was a
wooden bench with a lid that opened to hold
music. Or maybe not even that. I've forgotten
that part.
We left with the piano only, and for the last
thirty years I have been getting by on a
collapsible bench meant for a synthesized
keyboard. I call it a "glorified ironing
board" and if you are not very careful it
might fall over, or tip. It is not very
comfortable, and it has lately developed quite
a squeak. It is definitely not suitable for
recordings. And it has always been a little
dangerous.
So last week, I splurged. I spent nearly 500
dollars, which in today's money is still less
than this lady wanted for her
not-exactly-top-of-the-line bench, and I
bought an Artist's Bench, the kind that I
would sit on in front of a Steinway in a
concert hall. I got rather spoiled at the
conservatory because all of the concert halls
and teaching studios had that
backside-friendly equipment, and after all of
these years I think my posture could use a
break.
Yesterday it came in the mail. It took some
effort to get it out of its boxes and put it
together, and even now my gluteus maximus is
shocked when it makes contact with such a
soft, comfortable surface. I am not used to
such luxury. But I am not as young, and I
relish not having to make so many technical
allowances to get results.
Last week I ended my tenure at a church whose
tall organ console sometimes required extreme
stretches to make eye contact with the choir
director. At this rate, my body just might
make it to retirement!
Because I'm switching jobs
this week, I thought it would be fun to post
this essay I wrote several years ago about
various composers and their strange
relationships to employment. It occurs to me
that due to the often fraught nature of those
relationships I ought to write a disclaimer to
the effect that neither my previous position
or the one I am about to embark on have
anything to do with the possibly bitter tone
of some of the foregoing. In fact, I am about
to leave the company of many of these august
persons by actually having a full-time
position, something neither Mozart nor
Beethoven was ever to achieve. But they did
alright in their own way!
