La Divina Commedia, with Peacock Obbligato
Who can say no to the chance to escape the city (high heat and humidity forecast the whole week) and spend a few days at the Marlboro Music Festival in Vermont, where the presence of Rudolf Serkin, Pablo Casals and the members of the Budapest String Quartet is still felt in the practice rooms?
How anyone can practice amid the noise is beyond me. Apparently at some point in Marlboro College’s history, someone—I’m told his name was Kermit—brought with him a population of peacocks. They have stayed. Earlier today I was seduced by the sound of a violinist practicing the last movement of Beethoven’s Opus 132, which is perhaps my favorite piece of music ever in the whole history of ever. I was filling in the other three parts in my mind, transported to that melancholy yet defiant place in the soul that only Beethoven understands, when suddenly—ACK!
How presumptuous it was of me to sneak into one of those practice rooms to remind myself of Solace, by Scott Joplin, the only piece of music I have ever committed to memory. That happened when I was in college. And so here I was, sitting at a Steinway on a small campus roughly the same size and with the same woody feel as the one I attended. It was as if a wormhole had sucked me through time and space to the Steinway in Blodgett House at Simon’s Rock. It was 1984, the year after I graduated and also, as it happens, smack dab in the middle of the road of my life so far.
At that moment 21 years ago, I had already realized I would not have a career as a concert pianist, for reasons I’m reminded of today. That part in the B section I always struggled with? I still do. Why? Because I still gloss over it, decades later, so I can enjoy the luscious parts toward the end that come more easily. Hearing that violinist in the next room, who repeats the same two measures over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again, I am forced to confront what true discipline is.
When I was 21 I also realized I would not be marrying the woman to whom I was engaged. Calling her a woman makes me laugh as much as the thought that we were contemplating marriage while we were still both children. I’m sure she’s as thankful as I am that we didn’t go through with it. There she was at the far end of the room while I played, and she was crying. It had nothing to do with the quality of my performance; I was neither good enough nor bad enough to move anyone to tears. It was Scott Joplin who made her cry, because Solace provides anything but. It will dislodge any repressed pain and force it from your body, through your tear ducts if necessary. This piece had been with us for years, reminding us now of the good times and making it clear once and for all that they would not be coming back.
How anyone can practice amid the noise is beyond me. Apparently at some point in Marlboro College’s history, someone—I’m told his name was Kermit—brought with him a population of peacocks. They have stayed. Earlier today I was seduced by the sound of a violinist practicing the last movement of Beethoven’s Opus 132, which is perhaps my favorite piece of music ever in the whole history of ever. I was filling in the other three parts in my mind, transported to that melancholy yet defiant place in the soul that only Beethoven understands, when suddenly—ACK!
How presumptuous it was of me to sneak into one of those practice rooms to remind myself of Solace, by Scott Joplin, the only piece of music I have ever committed to memory. That happened when I was in college. And so here I was, sitting at a Steinway on a small campus roughly the same size and with the same woody feel as the one I attended. It was as if a wormhole had sucked me through time and space to the Steinway in Blodgett House at Simon’s Rock. It was 1984, the year after I graduated and also, as it happens, smack dab in the middle of the road of my life so far.
At that moment 21 years ago, I had already realized I would not have a career as a concert pianist, for reasons I’m reminded of today. That part in the B section I always struggled with? I still do. Why? Because I still gloss over it, decades later, so I can enjoy the luscious parts toward the end that come more easily. Hearing that violinist in the next room, who repeats the same two measures over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again, I am forced to confront what true discipline is.
When I was 21 I also realized I would not be marrying the woman to whom I was engaged. Calling her a woman makes me laugh as much as the thought that we were contemplating marriage while we were still both children. I’m sure she’s as thankful as I am that we didn’t go through with it. There she was at the far end of the room while I played, and she was crying. It had nothing to do with the quality of my performance; I was neither good enough nor bad enough to move anyone to tears. It was Scott Joplin who made her cry, because Solace provides anything but. It will dislodge any repressed pain and force it from your body, through your tear ducts if necessary. This piece had been with us for years, reminding us now of the good times and making it clear once and for all that they would not be coming back.
posted by DO at 10:22 PM
4 Comments:
What a lovely entry ... and what music! (I went to go find it.)
So what if you aren't a concert pianist? I believe there's a great deal of pleasure to be had in doing something for yourself that most other people need done for them -- for you, that something is playing music, and for me, it's sewing ... it may not be perfect, but it's yours, and somehow that feels more important.
That resonated on so many levels.
I also thought I would be a concert pianist (maybe that's the equivalent of ballerina or fireman in the suburbs), but reality hit around age 15.
If you haven't seen http://www.2pianos4hands.com/, you must!
what a beautiful piece of writing. and solace is incredibly moving, if not quite tear-inducing for me. funny, one of the three pieces i can still remember how to play is "harmony club waltz" by mr. joplin. seems he knew how to speak to everyone from well-read simon's rockers and reno-raised zepplin lovers.
thank you.
Is kermit and his peacocks still affiliated with the college?
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