Show us yer' dots

Of all the beasts roaming the grizzled art-scape, the opera singer will always have a unique place in my heart.  At the surface, I sometimes feel that their self-unconscious melodrama, facial contortions, and readiness to accept nonsensical plot devices warrants as much abuse as possible.  I mean, w

A naked read, and by that I mean reading music at sight for the purposes of making music rather than noise, can be a stressful situation for everyone involved.  Granted, the performers get an extra hat tip because, after all, they are the ones who have to suffer in the spotlight while the rest of [.

My house was ransacked by a wild animal today.  There I was, mild mannerly blasting the ‘hood with Corigliano’s Piano Concerto when the ten-legged and eighteen valved beast appeared in the street and bleated out a six note motif in retaliation.  I sprang into action and mangled myself into my record

Again, the resolve to make this web space into a useful documentation of what I do and don’t do wins out. At least, we hope it does. The next few posts might be clustered together like a fragrant bouquet of unhealthy bunions. We’ll start from the present and work backwards….. The latest battle was m

Listening to a Schumann song cycle can sometimes feel like you’re sitting down to see how many baked potatoes you can eat in one sitting. Most of us who’ve done so will tell you that there are only three good ones: The first two and the last one. The first potato beckons seductively from it’s [...]

Let me preface this post by saying that I think I’m in love with early music people. I love their weird instruments, I love that an integral aspect of being an early music nerd is being a bigger nerd than the person next to you, I love their anal-retentive adherence to a modestly documented performa

I debated with myself for exactly one second about whether or not I would mention the extreme amount of dead air this blog has been piping out for the past few months.  First instincts were against it, as mentioning dead air has all the usefulness of telling someone who chortles quietly to themselve

I’ve wanted to write something about this piece for a while now: Concubia Nocte by Jacopo Baboni-Schilingi. I first heard it on the CBC as I was going to bed.  I had just finished my nightly rituals and was setting my alarm, clicking it past the radio option to the alarm-radio option, and happened t