In reverie of the splendorous nighttime and of its splendid array of stars and of the smiling moon ascending over the treetops, I present a musical composition for solo pianoforte. Furthermore, let me commemorate therewith the the grand fire almost-at-midnight and its plumes of steam illuminated by the moonlight and the feel and the scent of the calm and cold night from the fire to the field to the swing set. Also, let me ignore, as I did at the time, the horseplay of the rabble. In short, I reflect on a good memory, the glorious conclusion of an excellent day, and on returning, far beyond expectation, to the profound and pleasing sight on which I mused in March.
This musical composition is a nocturne, which my handy pocket music dictionary assures me is a "dreamy and romantic" composition or "a piece resembling a serenade, to be played at night in the open air." Of course, it is nothing like a serenade, for serenades can be accomplished by greasy mariachi bands and nocturnes cannot possibly be accomplished thus. Of course, that is not to say a nocturne is not suitable for serenading; indeed, I think its character is far more suitable for serenading than a serenade could ever hope to be.
The story of this nocturne begins on the way home from the middle of the woods, which really is an accurate description of the place. Besides the road and the few houses thereupon, there were truly nothing but trees for a few miles around. The satellite maps told me so. This was a happy thing to learn, I thought, and I still think. Now, in the car, besides watching the rest of the convoy, exchanging words with my comrades, and reading the ridiculous names of certain towns and roads on the way, there was time for quiet reflection. In the course of this quiet reflection, I got out my book of notes and letters to write out a brief plan for the musical composition that I have now finished. In the course of the next week I would begin work on it, throw most of it out, abandon most of the lunatic (that is, lunar) plan (as I knew I would), and finally find the direction the music at last took, which would take a second week to see to its conclusion. Last Wednesday I scrivened the last of the shorthand in blue ink (my chosen color for this piece, because of the moonlight), and on Friday began to put all the actual notes into the computer, editing as many shortcomings I could see to improve. This was done with immense care, for I long ago (relatively speaking) ceased to consider myself to be working for myself.
If I may digress for a moment, I saw two enormous turkey vultures today from a mere several feet away. It was pretty neato, but I shall compose them neither a nocturne nor a diurne. This happened because I was so smooth in grooving over to them.
Now, without further ado, and there has been much ado, here is the music, which can be heard by following the link on the left of the page under Mine Artistry, but I advise listening over hearing:
2 comments:
That was such a beautiful night.
Even though I've only heard a few of them, I love nocturnes. I'm excited to hear another. It sounded lovely on the computer, but I can't wait until I have the time to play it myself.
I have a feeling that songs about turkey vultures would not be nearly as wonderful as songs about nighttime and fires and such, even if the smooth grooving was taken into account.
I cannot thank you enough.
As you quite possibly are already aware, Grieg has a very famous nocturne, Chopin has many excellent nocturnes, and Debussy has a few, also. Those are the several I can think of right now.
Nighttime and fires and such are nearly impossible to beat, even by smoothly grooving turkey vultures.
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