AMSTERDAM 2008 STORY - June 14, 2008
I decided I wanted one more recording session before I started winnowing out which pieces were keepers and which would not make the cut for CD #3 – Soul Migrations. So, it was off to Amsterdam, even though the Euro was gaining strength by the day and airfares were rising. But, I was Jones-ing for a recording session and for the advent of Spring in Amsterdam, tired of seemingly endless Minnesota winter.
Five weeks prior to the recording date, I descended carefully down my back steps because rain that had fallen the day before was beginning to freeze. My feet flew out on the slick steps and I smashed down, bruising my pelvic bone and bending my right hand fingers far back when I broke my fall. The next morning my hand was swollen twice as thick as the left and the fingers would move.
I called Health Partners and got an appointment that same day. The nurse took one look and ordered me to x-ray. When I looked at the x-rays, I saw my white hand bones; when I looked up, I saw surprise in the doctor’s face because nothing was broken. The doctor gave me a hand brace and encouraged me to play piano, even that day, which I did, although the 3rd through 5th fingers could barely move.
I was nervous as to whether my hand would heal in time, but I decided to go through with the trip even though I couldn’t lift anything of any significant weight, open a pop or beer bottle with that hand, or stretch my fingers out, as I’m accustomed to. The doctor said 6-8 weeks so I figured by five weeks I should be fairly functional, enough to play, especially as the fingers seemed limber in spite of the swelling in the ligaments. Complicating matters was that over the past year my hip has been bothering me also – getting worse and worse, until finally it was getting difficult to walk or sit without intense pain or discomfort. I couldn’t stand the thought of going to lovely Amsterdam, where I walk everywhere, miles a day, and being in this condition. Thus, the day before I left, I got an injection directly into my lower spine. It worked beautifully! I walked everywhere. However, it didn’t prevent blisters or fatigue!
The first few days in Amsterdam afford me a once in a lifetime experience. I had seen a poster around town advertising a piano concert featuring a Norwegian pianist named Leif Ove Andsnes. I decided to go, but, I almost missed the concert because I didn’t realize that Daylight Savings Time started that Sunday. I finally caught on, in early evening no less, and rushed to the concert hall, making it just a few minutes before starting time. The first half of the concert was less than thrilling. I almost left during intermission. Andsnes played J.S. Bach’s Toccata in E, Beethoven’s “Quasi una fantasia” and a selection of short pieces by Sibelius. I felt caution in these pieces - they seemed written to please patrons and royalty and were thus restrained, afraid to go too far or be sensuous or playful. When the music did show color, the piece quickly apologized or withdrew, curtsying and behaving for a while, lest the music offend. I liked the Sibelius best – it came the closest to something I could embrace, but it too was laced with caution.
During the break I drank an orange juice while leaned against the back wall, watching people a parade of interesting people pass by and the piano tuner working away on stage. I felt incongruous in my white tennis shoes and was relieved when I saw a few other people dressed as casually as I. I decided to stay. The 2nd half began with Grieg’s Ballade in G, Opus 24 , a piece I was not familiar with. I was utterly blown away. This music was written over 100 years ago and was simply amazing. I realized during its recitation that I had discovered my forebear, he who first discovered and reveled in the caves that my own music had begun to explore. Grieg had managed to write this down on paper so that it could be played over 100 years later with such finesse and aliveness that it was utterly enthralling. As Andsnes played the Grieg, he opened one horizon after another, on and on, such power and sheer beauty, with thrilling acrobatic passages and subtle harmonic bridges between sonic worlds. After the last notes faded into the hall’s woodwork, the entire audience was on its feet, clapping and cheering. It was such an emotional release, so full of joy and ecstasy, spiritual longing and fulfillment. Debussy’s Preludes followed, very beautifully played, a nice transition back from the land of transformative trolls and goddesses dwelling in Grieg’s music. I left the hall transformed, entering a misty, foggy night.
On the way home I passed the Rijksmuseum with its gates like the art nouveau painting, Isle of the Dead. I found myself contemplating myself as a thief who stole into the great halls of music – not having followed the approved route. I had started college as a music major but could not stomach counterpoint, composition, etc. I refused to work that way. I just wanted to play, to sit in the dark hour after hour finding the music, piecing it together. It literally took decades to assemble my music and find these caves that Grieg had known, much less develop the confidence to let my fingers begin to fly through those dramatic skies, so sensual and vibrant with color. Grieg’s music gave me a sense of home, of relief.
Finally the day came when it was time to go into the recording studio. Mia had stayed up late and was sleeping in. I walked along the canals on the way to the studio, catching a wonderful photo portrait of Frank Zappa and a lovely ground level window where a baby lay in its crib, playing contentedly, just a half block from the studio doors. These felt like good omens. The two previous years I had produced musical portraits of people in my life – meditations on their beings, and, a couple intense avant garde jazz-style pieces. Sintra, from 2007, had emerged as a thunderous historic vision representing the struggle for the soul to live in a political and religious landscape overly structured and controlled by righteousness and power. This year’s music, as it unfolded that Sunday afternoon, was less visionary. It was more just the music, the tonalities and overtones, following rivers and movements of sound. I finished the recording session unsure of what I had produced, unsure I had produced anything worthwhile.
Upon returning to Minnesota, I decided to take a new approach, enlisting the aid of my longtime friend and producer of my first 2 CD’s, Donald Hotchkiss. I made several trips to his house to listen to the new music, cut by cut, and, interspersed with wax album tracks from the 60’s and 70’s that Don selected, hearing it on a fine stereo system capable of reproducing the quality of sound created at Studio 150, where I record in Amsterdam. As I listened and friends commented, I saw that my music was less about longing now and more about the music simply unfolding. It felt more lush, sometimes more confident, more subtle. There was an energy that constantly rose upwards, releasing and then climbing again – I’d clearly been influenced by Grieg’s music and Andsnes’ musicianship.
I am still not done listening to the new music. I don’t yet have names for the songs. I am able to sense the evolution that has taken place in my music. I am also eager to put together this new third CD, to select the songs that I want to carry my message. Hopefully my dreams for this 3rd CD will come together soon and well – the guitar tracks, the voice, the percussion, the dance/choreography, perhaps a CD release party where I perform live. I return from Amsterdam with a desire to put more time and energy into music, to make it more known and visible and heard. It feels like my music has that strength now, that it can happen not only in Amsterdam, but here as well.
Five weeks prior to the recording date, I descended carefully down my back steps because rain that had fallen the day before was beginning to freeze. My feet flew out on the slick steps and I smashed down, bruising my pelvic bone and bending my right hand fingers far back when I broke my fall. The next morning my hand was swollen twice as thick as the left and the fingers would move.
I called Health Partners and got an appointment that same day. The nurse took one look and ordered me to x-ray. When I looked at the x-rays, I saw my white hand bones; when I looked up, I saw surprise in the doctor’s face because nothing was broken. The doctor gave me a hand brace and encouraged me to play piano, even that day, which I did, although the 3rd through 5th fingers could barely move.
I was nervous as to whether my hand would heal in time, but I decided to go through with the trip even though I couldn’t lift anything of any significant weight, open a pop or beer bottle with that hand, or stretch my fingers out, as I’m accustomed to. The doctor said 6-8 weeks so I figured by five weeks I should be fairly functional, enough to play, especially as the fingers seemed limber in spite of the swelling in the ligaments. Complicating matters was that over the past year my hip has been bothering me also – getting worse and worse, until finally it was getting difficult to walk or sit without intense pain or discomfort. I couldn’t stand the thought of going to lovely Amsterdam, where I walk everywhere, miles a day, and being in this condition. Thus, the day before I left, I got an injection directly into my lower spine. It worked beautifully! I walked everywhere. However, it didn’t prevent blisters or fatigue!
The first few days in Amsterdam afford me a once in a lifetime experience. I had seen a poster around town advertising a piano concert featuring a Norwegian pianist named Leif Ove Andsnes. I decided to go, but, I almost missed the concert because I didn’t realize that Daylight Savings Time started that Sunday. I finally caught on, in early evening no less, and rushed to the concert hall, making it just a few minutes before starting time. The first half of the concert was less than thrilling. I almost left during intermission. Andsnes played J.S. Bach’s Toccata in E, Beethoven’s “Quasi una fantasia” and a selection of short pieces by Sibelius. I felt caution in these pieces - they seemed written to please patrons and royalty and were thus restrained, afraid to go too far or be sensuous or playful. When the music did show color, the piece quickly apologized or withdrew, curtsying and behaving for a while, lest the music offend. I liked the Sibelius best – it came the closest to something I could embrace, but it too was laced with caution.
During the break I drank an orange juice while leaned against the back wall, watching people a parade of interesting people pass by and the piano tuner working away on stage. I felt incongruous in my white tennis shoes and was relieved when I saw a few other people dressed as casually as I. I decided to stay. The 2nd half began with Grieg’s Ballade in G, Opus 24 , a piece I was not familiar with. I was utterly blown away. This music was written over 100 years ago and was simply amazing. I realized during its recitation that I had discovered my forebear, he who first discovered and reveled in the caves that my own music had begun to explore. Grieg had managed to write this down on paper so that it could be played over 100 years later with such finesse and aliveness that it was utterly enthralling. As Andsnes played the Grieg, he opened one horizon after another, on and on, such power and sheer beauty, with thrilling acrobatic passages and subtle harmonic bridges between sonic worlds. After the last notes faded into the hall’s woodwork, the entire audience was on its feet, clapping and cheering. It was such an emotional release, so full of joy and ecstasy, spiritual longing and fulfillment. Debussy’s Preludes followed, very beautifully played, a nice transition back from the land of transformative trolls and goddesses dwelling in Grieg’s music. I left the hall transformed, entering a misty, foggy night.
On the way home I passed the Rijksmuseum with its gates like the art nouveau painting, Isle of the Dead. I found myself contemplating myself as a thief who stole into the great halls of music – not having followed the approved route. I had started college as a music major but could not stomach counterpoint, composition, etc. I refused to work that way. I just wanted to play, to sit in the dark hour after hour finding the music, piecing it together. It literally took decades to assemble my music and find these caves that Grieg had known, much less develop the confidence to let my fingers begin to fly through those dramatic skies, so sensual and vibrant with color. Grieg’s music gave me a sense of home, of relief.
Finally the day came when it was time to go into the recording studio. Mia had stayed up late and was sleeping in. I walked along the canals on the way to the studio, catching a wonderful photo portrait of Frank Zappa and a lovely ground level window where a baby lay in its crib, playing contentedly, just a half block from the studio doors. These felt like good omens. The two previous years I had produced musical portraits of people in my life – meditations on their beings, and, a couple intense avant garde jazz-style pieces. Sintra, from 2007, had emerged as a thunderous historic vision representing the struggle for the soul to live in a political and religious landscape overly structured and controlled by righteousness and power. This year’s music, as it unfolded that Sunday afternoon, was less visionary. It was more just the music, the tonalities and overtones, following rivers and movements of sound. I finished the recording session unsure of what I had produced, unsure I had produced anything worthwhile.
Upon returning to Minnesota, I decided to take a new approach, enlisting the aid of my longtime friend and producer of my first 2 CD’s, Donald Hotchkiss. I made several trips to his house to listen to the new music, cut by cut, and, interspersed with wax album tracks from the 60’s and 70’s that Don selected, hearing it on a fine stereo system capable of reproducing the quality of sound created at Studio 150, where I record in Amsterdam. As I listened and friends commented, I saw that my music was less about longing now and more about the music simply unfolding. It felt more lush, sometimes more confident, more subtle. There was an energy that constantly rose upwards, releasing and then climbing again – I’d clearly been influenced by Grieg’s music and Andsnes’ musicianship.
I am still not done listening to the new music. I don’t yet have names for the songs. I am able to sense the evolution that has taken place in my music. I am also eager to put together this new third CD, to select the songs that I want to carry my message. Hopefully my dreams for this 3rd CD will come together soon and well – the guitar tracks, the voice, the percussion, the dance/choreography, perhaps a CD release party where I perform live. I return from Amsterdam with a desire to put more time and energy into music, to make it more known and visible and heard. It feels like my music has that strength now, that it can happen not only in Amsterdam, but here as well.