Thursday, May 03, 2007
Music Music Music
I've mentioned to some that I might start putting more music stuff on this blog (and no, the Kylie post is not a hint of things to come), and I certainly will have ample material for such meanderings. Not only have I gotten the latest shipment of discs from Musicweb (which brings the number of discs I have for review up to, oh, something like 842), I also went crazy in the Jazz section of Half Price Books and now have a stack of Ellington and Django, and upon my return home yesterday, I found another package from Brian Burtt, who sent me no fewer than five symphonies' worth of CDs, plus a lute disc and a piano concerto! I'm going to try to get on the stick and send him some things in return.
So, I'm adding some music links to the web as part of my program of avoiding cleaning the house. One of my favorite sites on Soviet composers is devoted primarily to Shostakovich, but also gives some great information on a number of Soviet-era composers, including Myaskovsky and one of my faves, Alfred Schnittke. In looking around (I've not been there in a while), I was thrilled to find one of my reviews has shown up there from Musicweb. Which reminds me, I really need to start working on writing more. Busy busy busy.
I just googled myself (I think that's against the law in some states) and found out I've been translated into Latvian! Who knew.
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3 comments:
I still twitch every time I see those disassembled piano pictures...
It's funny, I completely put the whole event out of my mind--it wsn't until a couple of weeks ago when I saw the pix in my folder that I remembered the terror of pulling the action out and all those little felt hammers falling backwards all at the same time. Would Dave drop the action? Would Dave manage to make the heaviest thing he owns aside from his car a piece of junk? Will he flinch? A heck of an afternoon, that one was...
Don't worry, man. She gave me a paper back last year and made me start over, so...
When you take her contemporary class, just do a close reading of one poem...or maybe two.
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