Tag Archives: music

A Night at the Opera

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My brother Dan sings in the chorus of the San Francisco Opera.  Although he has sung in operas for 25 years, Curt and I have only been able to see him play a lead role in Madame Butterfly with a touring company.  One item on my “bucket list” has been to see Dan sing on stage in San Francisco. 

Thursday night it happened.  It was the dress rehearsal for Otello by Giuseppe Verdi, based on the play by Shakespeare.  We had prime seats in the “orchestra” section (main floor); hordes of vibrantly enthusiastic high school students watched from the balconies. 

I’m just going to say it: opera is an acquired taste.  I enjoy it, but I understand it is foreign territory for many.

But there is no better way to introduce, develop and nurture an operatic appetite than to see a live performance.  The Opera House provides a grand and splendid setting.  The three-story sets and lighting were superb.  The acoustics exquisite. The storyline, sung in Italian, was easy to follow with English super titles.  In short order, I was spell bound.  Moved.  Shaken. 

There is no electronic amplification.  The South African tenor and Bulgarian soprano had pipes.  But the Italian baritone who played evil Iago amazed me.  And when the entire cast was singing and all the instruments were playing, the sound went gloriously through my bones. 

The conductor turned to the audience before the fourth and final act.  The kids were not settled and the rustling noises continued.  “This act begins very quietly with a very beautiful French horn solo,” the maestro explained. “This very beautiful music needs very beautiful silence.  Thank you.”

It was a night to remember. 

You can see a three minute segment here, a video filmed during the performance we saw.    

The Anatomy of a Lovely Week

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~  Every morning begins with a cuppa, made by my brother.

~  A great solution for a small bathroom, isn’t it?

~  A new friend of ours–we met him Sunday–
has opened up a thriving cafe in Oakland called Remedy Coffee.
It has wifi, but if you are on a laptop,
you must sit at the communal table.
Small tables are reserved for
traditional cafe activities, e.g. talking and drinking coffee.
He installed an old phone.
If you want to talk on your cell phone,
you must go into the phone booth.

~  How could I have made it through a lifespan
without Bach’s B Minor Mass?
Katie asked Dan to explain the fugue.
After a short music lesson, he put it on.
Beauty beyond words.
Beyond words.

~ I recently decided that I want to devote a wall
in my kitchen to my brother’s photography.
I swear I had the idea before I saw his living room!

 

~  An absolutely delicious outing to Penzey’s Spices. 
What a fun store!
*This* much fun!


 
~  One of Curt’s college roommates came over. 
We ate.  We talked.  We listened to this.
In the old days the discussion afterwards would’ve
gone on past midnight.
But, alas, we have aged.

~  Here is the best side dish in the world:

Coyote Corn
2 T butter
2-3 cups fresh or frozen corn kernels
3-4 sun-dried tomatoes, soaked, drained, chopped
3 T finely chopped fresh basil
1/3 cup chopped green onions, including tops
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat butter in skillet, add corn and tomatoes until warmed through.
Place in serving bowl; add basil and onions.
Salt and pepper to taste.

Today more visits.
Tomorrow: Wendell Berry.

Wonderful Wedding Moments

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Saturday we celebrated the wedding of Julie and Daniel, the fourth and final wedding of the year in our church community.   In this lovely picture (credit: Matthew Hurley), we are dancing a Virginia Reel.  Isn’t Julie beautiful?  She is wearing the same dress her mom, aunt and grandma wore with a gorgeous pair of cowboy boots underneath.  Directly behind her is Isaiah (white shirt) for whom many of you prayed to wake up from a coma.  There he is, dancing!  I’m leaning forward, ready to twirl around.

It was a wonderful wedding. I woke this morning through a floodtide of memories…moments worth recording:

~  The groomsmen’s toasts were simply amazing.  My friend leaned over and whispered, “If these are the kind of guys Daniel is friends with, it speaks very highly of him.”  The masterpiece was the song written by one of the best men, Daniel Went Down to Wallowa, modeled on The Devil Went Down to Georgia. 

 

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 ~  Collaborating with a college freshman on the composition of a violin descant for St. Patrick’s Breastplate, the bridal processional, was a hoot! We had more fun isolating a musical phrase and pulling a blues riff from it when we should have been focusing on the descant. Julie entered during the centerpiece of the song: Christ be with me.  My first exposure to NoteWorthy Composer software has me drooling.

~  I looked across the table and said, “Krista, You. are. beautiful.”  Her mother, holding with a squirming grandson agreed, “She really is.”  Krista smiled and explained, “My husband’s love makes me beautiful.”  And.  It was so sweet and genuine, not a Sunday School answer, if you know what I mean.

~  The. Kiss.

~   Our Bonnie (mother of the bride, a friend who belongs to us all) displayed extraordinary beauty and serenity.  Hosting a wedding reception in her back pasture was no worry.  She glowed with the light of grace.  It has been five years since she fought Stage 3 cancer.  We are so thankful for God’s kindness displayed in her life.

~  The entrance of the cake, held high and carried around all the tables and delivered to the head table by a Best Man (there were two), while a jig was played on the violin.  

~  When I heard the men were wearing Wranglers I was a skeptic.  However. They looked exceedingly handsome in their Chocolate Black Wranglers with cowboy boots, formal vests and, after the ceremony, cowboy hats.

~  It has been a glorious summer.  Glory can be fatiguing but it is a Good Tired.  A Happy Tired.  Looking back with a young friend, we smiled and sighed and took a deep, cleansing breath.  “Well,” she said, “I guess it’s time to start a new season of love!” 

 

Training for Heaven

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Good hymns are an immense blessing to the Church of Christ.  I believe the last day alone will show the world the real amount of good they have done.  They suit all, both rich and poor.  There is an elevating, stirring, soothing, spiritualizing effect about a thoroughly good hymn, which nothing else can produce.  It sticks in men’s memories when texts are forgotten. 

It trains men for heaven, where praise is one of the principal occupations.  Preaching and praying shall one day cease forever; but praise shall never die.  The makers of good ballads are said to sway national opinion.  The writers of good hymns, in like manner, are those who leave the deepest marks on the face of the Church.

~ J. C. Ryle (1816-1900)

Chords, Chords, Chords

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I am so ready to get serious about reading Willie and Dwike: An American Profile (reissued as Mitchell & Ruff: An American Profile in Jazz).  I’ve been flitting here and there, picking it up and reading wherever the book opens.  I’ve never been disappointed.  This book is chock full of treasure, with a capital T. 

My interest was peaked piqued   because William Zinsser, who wrote On Writing Well, wrote Willie And Dwike.  On Writing Well impressed me, but I wanted to read Zinsser’s work and see his style up close.  I had never heard of the jazz musicians Willie Ruff and Dwike Mitchell.

So I entered through the writing and I’m staying because of the music.  It. is. glorious.

Here’s what I read this morning, words that resonate, vibrate, relate, inculcate, and thoroughly delight me.  Because to paraphrase James Carville, “It’s the chords, stupid.”  Inevitably the chords grab me, hold me and squeeze me tight.  I think chords are to music what words are to writing: the greater your ‘vocabulary’ the more you are able to express. 

Here are snippets from pages 126-127, stuff that makes me want to shout and sing!  All emphases are mine.

It’s not a question of learning the song; he already knows most of the great ones.  The challenge is to give the song a series of lives that it had never had before, without violating its identity, and he will labor for days over one that engages his ear and his mind.  

Each chorus that Mitchell plays has a different feeling, the difference being in the emotional nature of the chords.  The chords themselves are like nobody else’s–elegant, surprising and yet apt; the ear never rejects them as “wrong.”  Beyond that, the chords in each chorus are intimately related to each other in how they are voiced.  They form a line and tell a story; they aren’t just showy chords plunked into someone else’s song.  The composer (whoever it is) is never harmed.

It was to try to understand how the ear arrives at such destinations that I began taking lessons from Mitchell… I hear chords coming out of his piano that make me quiver.  No matter how many complex chords I already knew or have since learned, there is no end of new ones: chords that I never imagined and would never be able to find myself.

When he and I analyze chords we are like two lepidopterists poring over a tray of brilliant butterflies, delighting in their infinite variety and their subtle gradations of color.

Most of all, he talks about feeling.  He often mentions some pianist who was technically flawless but who “might as well have not played at all.”  Emotion, to him, is the crucial ingredient, and music is a total commitment.  In his conversation and his concerns I glimpse what it is to be an artist and not just a musician.

Prime Rib and Eric Bibb

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I liked the album cover.

I clicked the 30 second samples; immediately I called my husband to join me.  “Listen to this guy– (consulting the screen)…Eric…Bibb.”  After listening to a few licks, Curt said, “Get that CD.” 

People say I sing the sunny side of the blues.
So I’m going to start off tonight with a song called
Goin’ Down Slow.

We thought we had discovered this “unknown” and started talking him up to our friends.  Turns out, they’d been listening to him for years. 

Wow.  I’ve played a lot of places in the world,
but this is the most unique venue.
I grew up in Queens, and you just don’t see
sights like this when you live in Queens.
I feel like I’m on an album cover.

In January 2008, Bibb came to Sandpoint, Idaho, six hours away.  It was close enough.  Friends banded together and we drove through an epic snowstorm for a magical evening.  Unforgettable.  A month ago we learn that Eric Bibb would again be in our region.  Anticipation. 

A thought occurs to someone brilliant: why not bring him to the Rim for a concert?  Sitting on the edge of Joseph Canyon, The RimRock Inn is what’s called a destination restaurant.  Our friends have worked hard to make a meal at the Rim an exquisite occasion.

 

[About four measures into a song, he stopped to retune.]
Tuning a guitar is just like airplane maintenance:
it’s always worth it.

They seated 80-100 people on the outside deck with Mr. Bibb on a platform five feet away.  He introduced each song with a story, some background or introduction.  He plays some thumping 12 chord progressions, clap-along, foot-stomping songs.  But he truly excels, I think, with love ballads that make you want to hold the hand of the one you love.  

 

Marital bliss and conjugal harmony
are not normally considered
suitable topics for the blues.

The sky was a robin egg blue.  The temperature teeter-tottered between perfect sleeveless and grab a sweater.  Our friend Darrell Brann opened with a full repertoire of crowd pleasers. The aroma of fresh bread was followed by a salad with crumbles of chevre; prime rib and baked potato entered; dessert was your choice of rhubarb, marionberry, pecan, apple or mud pie. 

 

My mother is a wise woman.  I haven’t always taken her advice,
but when she heard this song, she told me that I should include
it in every set I play.  And I’ve done that for twenty years.
A Swedish gospel singer asked me to write it; she wanted
to sing a song with a blues feel and she wanted to sing in English.
So here it is: a Swedish-gospel-blues-in-English song.

During the intermission and after the concert there were opportunities to talk to Eric Bibb and his wife.  I told him one of his newest fans is my friend’s mom, who recently received a terminal diagnosis, whose days are numbered.  He asked me to pass on his greetings. 

Isaiah and his folks were at the concert.  Isaiah, saved from a deadly brain injury. 

Afterwards my good friend leaned against the railing looking out towards the horizon, tears on her face.  She said, “I didn’t know any of the people he mentioned in his song One of My Heroes but I know exactly what he means by “dead and gone…still livin’ on.” 

Eric Bibb touched us all.  He made us smile, clap, sing, sigh.  I left thinking of the lyrics of one song he didn’t sing last night: 

Joy is my wine,
love is my food,
sweet gratitude the air I breathe.   

Eric Bibb Again!

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Seeing Eric Bibb in concert was one of the great moments of 2008, a magical evening.  We still reference it often, it was that engaging.  My 18 yr old Collin checks Eric’s schedule on a regular basis to see if we could see him again before we die .  Eric spends more time in Europe than he does in America.  The snowy January night in Sandpoint was such a gift, it seems greedy to want more.  But a gig at the Sweet Onion Festival in Walla Walla, WA  (I do love how that flows off the tongue…Walla Walla) popped up on Eric’s schedule and we. are. going. 

This is what you need to do.  Go to Eric Bibb’s website and you can hear seven tracks from his latest album.  If unaccompanied acoustic guitar rocks your socks, listen to Track 6: I Shall Not Be Moved.  I particularly like the gospel-ish arrangement of If Our Hearts Ain’t In It and the love ballad Pockets.

Evening with Eric Bibb remains our favorite Bibb CD, with Diamond Days running a close second.  The train of Bibb fans is picking up speed and gaining more passengers daily.  Get on board!

Simple Gifts in May – The Late Edition

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~   May means lilacs and asparagus.

I love lilacs from afar (my husband is allergic).

I enjoy asparagus close up.
Yesterday a friend fixed it with butter and brown sugar.
I admit that sounds a bit different.
But it tasted yummy.

~  Pizza tastes delicious.
Our friend Isaiah ate pizza last week.
He’s coming home June 12th!!

~  The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
And the Lord gives back.
Isaiah was given, taken away and is being given back.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.

~ Baby Isaac was born last week to our friends. 
Our church prayed publicly for a child to be born.
Yesterday was Isaac’s first day in church.  More tears of joy.

~  My husband is reading Andy Catlett: Early Travels.
I love that he is reading Wendell Berry.
Every murmur of appreciation
is followed by a what? read it aloud! from me.
Last night he read this, a perfect recap of our month.

We measure time by its deaths, yes, and by its births.  For time is told also by life.  As some depart, others come.  The hand opened in farewell remains open in welcome. […] And time that is told by death and birth is held and redeemed by love, which is always present.  Time, then, is told by love’s losses, and by the coming of love, and by love continuing in gratitude for what is lost.  It is folded and enfolded and unfolded forever and ever, the love by which the dead are alive and the unborn welcomed into the womb.  The great question for the old and the dying, I think, is not if they have loved and been loved enough, but if they have been grateful enough for love received and given, however much.  No one who has gratitude is the onliest one.  Let us pray to be grateful to the last.

~  Perceptions are funny things.
Recent visitors’ perception of our church:
1.  The women sure are happy.
2.  Wow, that’s some good singing.

~ New discoveries this month
Music:  Jamie Soles
Art:  Frederick Morgan
Food:  Jamie Oliver (via Netflix)

~ Deep, philosophical questions:
Should I catch up on my unfinished reading
or start new with
The Summer of Southern Literature?
(doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?)

Perhaps Southern Lit needs a year?

~  A new season, a new transition.
I’ve been teaching my kids at home since 1994.
And that job is completed.
I’ve accepted a full-time job at a local pharmacy.
My title is Manager of Internal Operations.
My husband and I decided that it would be good
for me to work 2-3 years to fulfill our financial goals. 
I’m using my gifts in an unexpected way.
A big change.

~ A never-done-before, breath-taking wedding processional
I’m playing for a wedding this Saturday.
The bride wants to come down the aisle to…
Amazing Grace.
I need to make some stylistic decisions.
I’m thinking quiet, elegant, open chords.
 

Top 10 Hymns

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My friend Sherry is conducting a Top 100 Hymns Survey.  Sherry’s blog has a huge following because of her weekly Saturday Review of Books, a marketplace for book reviews.  For her hymns survey, she is asking folks to email her their top ten favorite hymns of all time to her.  Her guidelines are at the first link.  Email with “Hymn Survey” in the subject to sherryDOTearlyATgmailDOTcom.  Deadline is May 31st. 

If you have a hymnbook, this is a great exercise.  Thumb through it, page by page, and make a list of your favorites.  One of the casualties of “singing off the wall” (words projected onto a screen) is the hymnbook in the home.  I’m such a dork, I took a hymnbook with me on my honeymoon. 

The two hymnbooks I use the most these days are Trinity Hymnal and Cantus Christi. If you like old hymns in minor keys (e.g. O Sacred Head Now Wounded) you will find more in Cantus than in any other hymnbook.  They are not all dirges, oh no.  Invariably when people visit our church, they comment on the singing.  It is full-bodied, exuberant and, as it were, one voice.  One of our women has a gorgeous and powerful voice; she said this is the first church where her voice didn’t stick out. 

I’m going to post my top 10.  As I find time I will add more favorites in increments of ten.  It is painful not mentioning other favorites.  The names in SMALL CAPS are the hymn tunes. 

1.  Doxology OLD HUNDRETH   In my opinion, this should be the first praise song every toddler learns. And perhaps the last song with the last breath of life.  Our church sings this, a capella, at the end of every service. It’s a classic (shows up in Tom Sawyer, not that that matters ) which remains fresh and solid. 

2.  Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing NETTLETON    Did you know there are more verses than the three we normally sing?  I so relate to the wandering heart theme in this hymn.

3.  My Soul Now Bless Thy Maker (Psalm 103) NUN LOB, MEIN SEEL   The truth is that many of my favorite hymns are based on Psalm 103.  Unfortunately this one is obscure.  How do I translate to you the joy and thrill it is to sing this?  Almost every audio version I’ve found has a slow, dreary tempo when this is a vigorous and confident tune.  So here’s the best combo I can find: Listen to this version (click on 519) after you’ve opened a window with the words.

4.  Shout, for the Blessed Jesus Reigns TRURO   I love TRURO like my friend Steph loves HYFRYDOL. We are kindred spirits in our hymn geekdom.  Listen here.

5.  Only Begotten, Word of God Eternal  ISTE CONFESSOR   There is a majesty and mystery in this ninth century hymn.  I’m sorry for the gymnastics, but the tune is here and the words are here (pause the music that automatically starts). “Hallowed this dwelling where the Lord abideth, this is none other than the gates of heaven.”  chills go up my arm.  I’ve added to my list of songs for my funeral.  The praise to the Trinity in the final verse makes hard lumps in my throat every time. 

6.  Jesus Shall Reign  DUKE STREET   Besides loving ancient hymns in minor keys I love triumphal anthems.  Tune here and words here.  I love to modulate up a half key on the last verse.  I also love the idea of sitting during the first four verses and rising for the fifth verse: Let every creature rise and bring peculiar honors to our King.

7.  O Sing A New Song to the Lord (Psalm 98)  LYNGHAM / DESERT   A family sings this here.   The four parts weave in and out, making a tapestry of tones.  To hear a room full singing this is glorious. True story: yesterday a group of five teenage boys were throwing a frisbee on the lawn belting this one in parts.  

8.  O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus EBENEZER  The music matches the words in this piece better than any other hymn I can think of.  I hear the ocean currents.  And no one (not even Selah [!]) does this piece better than Stephanie Seefeldt.  Worth the price of  the album A Little Less Than More.

9.  Praise To the Lord, the Almighty LOBE DEN HERREN  How oft in grief, hath not he brought thee relief? If you don’t know this hymn, please learn it.  Every phrase is rich, solid, steady. 

10.  In Christ Alone  Music and lyrics here.  What is it about this modern day hymn that is so potent?  The words speak to the core issues of life and death.  It’s normal for me to choke up on this one.  The music with its soaring intervals grabs me too.  Combined it is powerful. 

Okay, it is your turn.  Do you have a favorite hymn?  Three you love?  Favorite five?  Top ten?  Leave your answers in the comments.  If you are so inclined send them on to Sherry.

Hang Time

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Detroit Airport

(this thread is for Steph)

I don’t bring a book on the plane when I fly.  I bring five books.  Because I never know what I’ll be in the mood to read!  Yesterday, however, I did very little reading.  We (my husband, oldest son and I) are headed to a family wedding in Pennsylvania, one in which I am playing the piano.  My schedule had not allowed much practice time, so I practiced on the plane.  In my mind…..

I know that sounds bizarre, but desperation drives one to new, um, heights. 

I have been fixated on Steph’s incredible rendition of O the Deep Deep Love of Jesus.  How I want to mimic her playing!  (Her singing too, but we’ll have to wait for glory for that transformation.)  With my ear buds in, I played the song over and over, analyzing, meditating…straining to listen.  Realizing that my brother’s voice is higher than Steph’s, and knowing he’d want to sing it in Gm or Am, I tried to piece out the chord structure.  At least I got the bass notes.

And regretted the choice I made one year to take French IV instead of Music Theory.  How I regret not taking Music Theory.  Was that an augmented chord with a G bass, or a diminished chord, or just a sixth? It will be an adventure this afternoon when I get to a piano to see how close I came!

Nevertheless, it was a potent exercise in listening.  Really listening.  And that’s why I’ll never forget the trip from Boise to Salt Lake City, from Salt Lake City to Detroit, and from Detroit to Pittsburgh.

Thanks, Steph.  Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.  You were a great travel companion.  Next year in Jerusalem, so to speak, eh?