I had hoped that during December I might be able to come up with at least a few pieces that would be about winter or Christmas, but I’m not doing too well at finding something that would meet the generalized rules for this year’s theme. So, I’ve just gone with something typical in Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol. It was Rimsky that started off the year, with Scheherazade, and now I’ve come full circle. In past years, I’ve stopped early in December, to allow myself more time to enjoy my beloved Christmas music collection, and to relisten and reflect on the year. So, who knows, perhaps this will be the last of the year.
Rick Seaholm
So few weeks left in the year, and I felt like doing something tailored to the week. This is Thanksgiving week here in the United States, so I opted for this piece which has become the standard-bearer for American classical music of the 20th century. I have chosen to listen to the original suite, scored for thirteen instruments. Today I’ve heard it many times and as expected, although every moment effuses Copland, only a few minutes (Simple Gifts) are immediately identifiable as being from Appalachian Spring.
In what I think rounds out my series on fifteen year anniversaries of the relationship with my wife; from the moment she really caught my attention, via our first date, we finally make it to our fifteenth engagement anniversary. (And, if you’re still aching for more sappiness, check out my thirteen year posts on our mooniversary, and our wedding itself!).
Yesterday, I was honored to play the funeral of a long-standing member of our church. I hadn’t seen him a lot in recent years, but hold his wife as one of my biggest supporters and love having light conversation with her nearly every week. It was an honor to be asked. My position as choir director does not involve regularly accompanying services, and as such, I had never played a funeral before.
This past week, there was a Carnegie Hall broadcast which inspired me to really learn Bach’s Orchestral Suites. These are pieces which even a non-musician has probably heard snippets of here and there, from the playful Badinerie of the 2nd to the Air from the 3rd. But, for me at least, they tend to jumble together in my mind. I really want to learn their differences, and the individual personalities of each. So, I brought a bit of a rule, and chose these pieces in spite of the fact that they are not new to me by any stretch of the imagination.
I can’t quite tell if I feel like I’m out of ideas, or on a real good streak here. Several weeks of the last few months I have worked on pieces that I’d never even heard of before. In a way that makes me feel very good, because I’m learning completely new material, but also makes me wonder whether it’s just November, and I’m in a rut. Whatever the case, here I am with Ravel’s Valses nobles et sentimentales. Ravel has been on good terms with me this year. I’ve enjoyed learning quite a few pieces of his; from Couperin all the way back in February, and Mother Goose and the Pavane this summer, it’s a good year for me to see there is so much more to Ravel than Bolero.
Tapiola was a piece that the New England Philharmonic performed in 2007, when I was there general manager for a three-year spell. As such, I figured that when I gave this one a first spin, I would immediately recognize its themes, having sat next door to the rehearsal room for the months during which it was prepared. How wrong I was. Upon turning it on just a few minutes ago, I realized that I did not recall anything of the piece, even when my source recording was the very NEP concert that I managed. Wow. I guess I have some work to do.