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Quiet Day and A Piano

The two things converged yesterday—a quiet day and a piano. So, I played through some music on the stand, and when I got to Mozart's Fantasia, I thought this is something I have to record.

What was I thinking? I suppose I was thinking that this music is fun to play even if you play it poorly. It varies from loud to soft and loud, and it slips into slow passages after some punky fast phrases. There are chords and runs and the satisfaction that comes from pounding on the keyboard now and then. It's got it all. Some of it is like stirring cream with a wooden spoon; some of it is like smashing something with a hammer; and some of it is like tucking in your arms and rolling down a grassy hill, screaming until you reach the bottom.

When I first learned this thing in high school, my poor old teacher had a sort of rickety grand piano, and when I used the sustaining pedal too ferociously, the thing fell off. I sat there on the bench apologizing with my teacher stretched out on the floor trying to put his piano back together, grumbling at my ineptitude and winded from the physical exertion. It's an image I'll never forget, it was so scarring.

If that teacher were still alive, this rendition of Mozart's Fantasia would kill him. It kills ME. Let's see what it does to you—and I'm sorry:

Comments

dive said…
Yay! You sound very happy to have got through it, Robyn; the final notes seem like they were accompanied by a big grin.
I take it your sustain pedal is still intact?
Shan said…
I didn't find that to be plunky at all. Neither did the G who danced around like a ballerina while it was playing :).

No one hit those keys as hard as my brother used to! I think he took out his adolescent angst on the keys back then.
Scout said…
Dive, I really am happy to reach those final notes, and I'm glad they are supposed to be played with force. It's only natural.

Shan, I did the same thing as a teenager. It's a wonder my mother's piano is still standing, with all the angst-infused abuse it took.

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