Connections

-

 Listening to a sonata by Scarlatti, I'm struck by its strangeness, it even goes completely wild and you wonder if a small animal has not landed on the harpsichord. 


                                          Jean Rondeau plays Scarlatti sonata K175 in A minor

And always still the little cells repeating themselves - I learned today, thanks to that wonderful programme on Scarlatti on the BBC, that Scarlatti liked to gamble. There is some madness in gambling, some obsession, some intensity.

Composer of the week: Scarlatti, BBC programme with Kate Molleson

Ceci explique peut-être cela, as we would say in French, this maybe explains the wildness in the music. Added to that, living for the remaining 25 years of his life in a dark palace, the Escorial with a King suffering from Melancholia, Philip V of Spain probably did not help. This is a connection though, not a causality. Another composer, at the same time in the same palace, might have written some joyful little dance pieces, who knows?

Scarlatti left his duties in Lisbon where he had lots and lots to do and became only the music master of Princess Maria Barbara. Not more management to do, no more 'music on command' for this or that. Maria Barbara truly loved playing the harpsichord and he wrote sonatas for her (or for playing in front of her). He did not have to please the public, only one person with whom he got on very well, this is a music of true sharing and dialogue. So now we have about 550 sonatas for the harpsichord. They are still played today, either on the harpsichord or the piano. 

This wildness, this darkness, all within a certain restraint, makes me think about some of Sharron Kraus' music.

Story, from the album The Woody Nighshade


Robin is dead, from the album The Fox's Wedding


From the same album, also July Skies


Or even from her latest album Kin with The Locked Garden

 


 

Well... you make up your mind, agree or disagree, no one will win anything one way or another. Comments welcome!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

on the death of one's colleague

-
very very strange thing, the death of one's colleague, and at their disappearance we only then realise their greatness and kindness somehow... Gudrun was a colleague of mine and I chatted with her on Monday (or some time last week I am not sure) about her holidays, the great time she had driving in the States visiting so many places there, and me telling her about one mistake I had made (forgot to order one of the textbooks for German) and her being so kind about this, almost humourous, me commenting about how neat and nice her working space was... then I believe it was the day after, I saw her in the restaurant while I was having lunch with other colleagues, and then that was it, next time I heard something about her, she was dead. And we went to lunch at the same restaurant, and I sat, without noticing I have to say, at the place where she was sitting when I had last saw her. Very very strange indeed, the accidental death of once's colleague, too young to die really. And I ha...
Read more

First poem in Spanish (avé les corrections)

-
Paris en los años 80 Mi corazón era como una nueva canción Como un tango nunca bailado Amigos y yo todos los tiempos bailábamos como la música estúpida de América que no comprendíamos pero bailábamos y la nueva vida socialista era bella nosotros íbamos a colegios ricos donde los chicos estaban asustados no hablaban, no jugaban como nosotros pero bailábamos en mi barrio con amigos y después la universidad y bailábamos bailábamos todavía el muerte y el amor bailaban la última danza se llamaba sida y bailaban bailaban bailaban El agua corría en el Sena siempre Y ahora también corre, Y yo, A veces bailo, a veces cantando Mis canciones mil tiempo cantando mis tangos mil tiempo bailado pero soy. 80 in Francia François Mitterrand Presidente La musica de Madonna, Police, Michel Jackson Sida epidemia
Read more

Hav-Oxford

-
Image
 Sometimes you hear about a book and you want to read it and it's pretty much like a date, and you really have a crush on them, looking forward everything they will reveal to you, their charm, their wit, their beauty, their kindness, and you may be disappointed once you're there, it turns out you have been imagining things in advance, projecting too much, forgetting reality. And your date is tired, or upset, or distracted by the ex who's suddently appeared in the restaurant next to us or whatever. You date is alive but not necessarily well. But books are not like that, or at least books by authors you like, there will always be some bits you like: the appreciation of one's style, a certain turn of phrase here and there that deviates from it because the author was too young, too old, pissed off that day and so many other things like their ex sitting near them in the cafe where they're working who knows?, but you're rarely disappointed  - or I sincerely hope so. I...
Read more