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Death in February
Death in February - part 1
My remembrance is violent.
It’s still not yet dawn
On this misty February morning,
And just the sound
Of a distant bus
Pulling off
- who could be on that bus
at this time of day? –
With a dull crack
It seeps into my consciousness
That it is me,
Years ago,
On that bus,
Leaving you,
And the crack
Is the crack that the dawn
Of realisation brings.
No more tenderness
Will pass between us.
Death in February - part 2
February is to me
valedictory.
The tenderness we lack
is the giving of the ungivable.
If once I said you rendered yourself
Vincible to me
All the more revealing
Of the world's seeming magic
Because you were, and are
So amazonian,
Now I realise
You never did nor ever will
Allow a lover to hold in their hand
Your precious, secret
Vulnerability.
Death in February - part 3
And February mocks us,
Valentine:
Dead behind the eyes.
The world is tungsten and cold.
The sea impersonal
the air salt and asthmatic
the faces inscrutable
the flowers mock too,
rather than predict
recovery.
The soil of my mind is barren
Emotion stunted,
Heart impotent,
Fear that no spring will free
The frozen potentialities
And kernels of new awakenings,
And that doubt will be
Its own self-fulfulling prophecy
Download Dm Medley [Cantico in Dm - Vincente Sojo, Prelude in Dm - Ferdinando Carulli, Portuguesa - Joe Flintham)
May
May 2006 is the first month of the record of Don Chihuahua's progress, return, last stand, and other punctuations. These things will become clear if they are not now.
It began with Leonard, which uses a finger-picking style which I could never play before when I tried, and then recently discovered I could play. I had, at that time, been slaving away over the Bach pieces Sarabande from BWV 1002 and Prelude for Cello BWV 1007. I was working on a trill from an old interpretation of a Sojo Cantico, and just added a string.
I like to think that playing Bach makes you better: a better person, as well as a better musician.
The Prelude took weeks to master - to the extent that it has been mastered at all... the tricky parts were not those I expected, like stretching for a large barre in the middle of a phrase, but changing my mind about counterpoints. The source I used had very little counterpoint (compared to Segovia's recording, for instance), so I added some of those by ear. Then I took them out again. Each time my fingers had forgotten what to do. And each time, I heard the Segovia version differently. Playing a piece of music changes your understanding of it totally, and there seems to be no going back.
Tarrega's Endecha, is slow, pompous, ponderous, over-dramatic and possibly not in the spirit of the thing at all. But when I played it I kept being put in mind of the passacaglias that Bach wrote for the organ, and so I played it that way. It is probably done more justice to by interpretations such as this by Braumeister.
I think June will see Don Chihuahua dwelling on lost love. I'll bring the story to you when I can.
