It rains, it pours….
Sitting in my home, staring up at a sky full of clouds and tempest.
Rained, rains. and will rain…….forecast rains……
I have always loved storms, seemingly the last thing man cannot control. Free.
Rains and rains, clouds flashing by, all very dramatic and arresting.
The rain has left streaking tearstains down the window pane, and multi-colored droplets that bewitch me.
Which drop will beat the other to the bottom of the sill?
Thinking about how much life is made noble by music.
June 9: Mother in Paradise two years now. Too bad they don’t put calls thru…..Hope you feel my missing you.
Listening to Flagstad sing the Liebestod from Tristan und Isolde….what a piece of music and what a throat in it’s service.
Voices…..Ponselle, Muzio, Tebaldi.
Why must singers fight for their rightful place front and center?
Opera without voice is a symphony.
Lets be grand for a moment in discourse……let’s say, “The soul of the composer wishes to be expressed, shared if you will…..it takes the direct route by being made accessible by making it a human sound. Each soul that helps the composer share his vision colors it differently. It is so triumphant, really. Sometimes reduced to metronome by lessers.
Not with the greats.
Fascinated,……….., will always beguile me.
On a rainy New York afternoon, bewitched, bothered and happily bewildered by it all.
