My mind got to ramblin’, like a wild geese
From the west
Devil Got My Woman, Skip James
Napping with a book on his lap,
Mr Honk dreamed of the shirorekha
over the Diabelli Variations, played
as if Delta blues had been invented
on the Danube—even pure sour grapes
couldn’t bring anyone past the cognitive
dissonance—only to find upon waking
a suitable name for his only invention:
Kalidīpāsana.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
While watching the film Clara by Akash Sherman today, I heard a fragment of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata on the soundtrack, and I felt like listening to the whole piece. Later, in the evening, I chose a random performance, but the first movement was played so flatly and emotionlessly, like a chore, that I quickly turned it off. It was just painful to listen to. Beethoven was probably turning in his grave, speaking figuratively. However, I did not give up and found a recording of Claudio Arrau’s concert from 1970, during which he played this sonata. You could hear the difference immediately. It’s hard to believe that both pianists had the same score in front of their eyes. But this should come as no surprise, given that Arrau is considered one of the greatest pianists of the twentieth century.
hidden pilcrow 