who needs a life less ordinary?

On the subway today, I was surprised to find a profound quote printed on the back of my MetroCard (from one of my favorite novels, no less: George Eliot's epic Middlemarch). It definitely gave me food for thought during my ride home.

Here's the quote: "We do not expect people to be deeply moved by what is not unusual.... If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence."

These words—and the fact that such wisdom even appeared on something as mundane as a transit pass!—remind me that within the seemingly ordinary lies an amazement that our limited comprehension usually bypasses; we must open our eyes, ears, minds, and hearts to experience the divinity that is latent everywhere and in everyone.

lights, camera, action!

Audio, video, disco (i.e. "I hear, I see, I learn" in Latin) . . . literally!

Here are two videos for your viewing enjoyment:

1) A three-part documentary short on the Children's Music Campaign NYC (filmed in May & June 2008):

http://www.acjw.org/cmcnyc_videos.html

Here is what I wrote in the introduction to one of the segments:

Pass It On—At the heart of CMCNYC's mission is to pass on the gift of music. We believe that the universal language of music is one of the most powerful ways of bringing people together. Each human being can make a difference, even with something as simple as a song. How? Music can symbolize our shared humanity; represent our views of the world; provide us with a healthy outlet of expression; manifest our thoughts, emotions, and ideals; and engender greater harmony and understanding. While working on this project, I was struck by the connective thread that ran between me and my colleagues; and our students, schools, and communities. Numerous individuals—of diverse ages, cultural backgrounds, personalities, and abilities—joined together in the unified pursuit of making beautiful music. As I witnessed my students create and collaborate, I realized that we as Teaching Artists are simply there to pass on our passion, to start a chain of positive acts, and to light the artistic fuse that is already latent within these bright young souls. They, in turn, enrich our lives beyond words, giving us infinite inspiration to keep our music and our dreams alive.—Elizabeth Joy Roe

It is the one-year anniversary of CMCNYC's culminating concert at Carnegie Hall. Ah, the memories...

2) A brand-new Anderson & Roe Piano Duo music video (filmed last month):



"Variety is the very spice of life that gives it all its flavour." -William Cowper

Happiness is...

...immersing myself in the most gorgeous, glorious, brilliant, endlessly fascinating music. Working on such music makes me think of something Ralph Waldo Emerson (whose immortally resonant prose remains an eternal source of inspiration to me) wrote: "Underneath the inharmonious and trivial particulars, is a musical perfection; the Ideal journeying always with us, the heaven without rent or seam."

connections between two ostensibly diametrical worlds

I could be imagining things, but consider this: lately I've been working on Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition and as I was dissecting "Gnomus" (the second piece of the set) I was struck by its striking similarity to—and possible influence on—Björk's song "Possibly Maybe" from her epic album Post. Just listen to the opening motive of "Gnomus" and the electronic riff of the song's intro. Is there a connection? Possibly maybe...

Another salute to the extraordinary Björk appears in the latest issue of Rolling Stone. Check out Chris Martin's beautifully written tribute here: The One Hundred Greatest Singers of All Time.

Speaking of Chris Martin (the frontman of Coldplay), I came upon a recent remark of his which resonated with me: “If you allow yourself to be vulnerable in your music, people will feel it a lot more. But a lot more people will also hate it or mock it. It’s almost like a deal with the devil, but I’m happy to take that deal. It doesn’t feel right to me to sing about stuff I don’t believe in.”

the end of time at the beginning of the year

Happy New Year! 2008 has begun with projects that remind me of how lucky I am to be a musician.

Today is the official release date of my piano duo album "Reimagine." (Read my reflections on the album here.)

Last week I gave my first public performance of Messiaen's Quatour pour la fin du temps with my esteemed Academy colleagues. I couldn't have asked for a better way to commence my year than with this rapturous, mystical 50-minute masterwork that eludes all description.

As I worked on the piece, I was fixated on the Angel's words [which Messiaen had included in the score], "Il n'y aura plus de Temps"—it became my mantra. I loved delving into the darkest nightmarish depths, striving toward the most beatific heights, and tapping into the terrible joy of the music. I loved blending my sound with the strings and clarinets to create an unyielding, massive, granite-like sonority in the inexorably formidable six movement. I loved sitting without playing for 15 minutes in breathless awe during the solo clarinet movement and the "Intermède" for the other three instruments, and then finally ending my respite with the rich E major chord that begins the accompaniment to the cello's reverent, seemingly infinite "Louange à l'Éternité de Jésus." (This movement to me is love incarnate.) This music transcends the bounds of time and space, and what a revelation it was to explore Messiaen's devotional vision of the Eternal.

To quote Victor Hugo: "Soyez à l'infini."

cruel beauty

I just alighted upon this quotation of Benjamin Britten, and I love it:

"It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness and of pain: of strength and of freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature, and everlasting beauty of monotony."

Music may torture us, but the "suffering" it inflicts is the best kind—one that compels us to confront our fears and desires, to delve deeply into and stretch beyond ourselves, to face the infinite.

This peerless, all-encompassing force of music is something I try to tap into every time I perform, but I don't always succeed. However, I felt especially connected during my recent performance at Ravinia. In spite of a cold and a severe lack of preparation—due to my crazy schedule and inconvenient practicing situation (i.e. no piano in my apartment), not a lack of responsibility!—everything somehow locked into place and I found myself equipped with this ineluctable ability to shape things just as I wished. It is the greatest joy to lose yourself in the music and the moment (to loosely quote Eminem) while opening your heart to the people around you. Alone on that stage and embraced by attentive listeners, I felt empowered and free, and although a performance doesn't last temporally, its echoes endure.

To return to the aforementioned quotation, I am finding a forlorn and urgent beauty in Radiohead's latest effort, In Rainbows. Standout tracks to me include "Weird Fishes/Arpeggi," "All I Need," and "House of Cards." Another piece of music I'm obsessed with at the moment: Messiaen's "Louange à l'Éternité de Jésus" from the Quatour pour la fin du temps. This is beauty at its most ecstatic.

sempre con anima

It's a relief to be an artist because the nature of the profession allows one to emote in a way that's intensely personal and yet blessedly private at the same time—this is surely one of the reasons that I'm so drawn to the abstract nature of music. Though language is arguably less abstract, writing often serves a similar function; one can dance around words while unleashing messages of great intimacy.

To quote Italo Calvino: "Writing always means hiding something in such a way that it is then discovered."

The Center

"The music that really turns me on is either running toward God or away from God. Both recognize the pivot, that God is at the center of the jaunt." -Bono

Word.

Tabula Rasa

I seem to have a penchant for E. M. Forster when it comes to blog titles: my piano duo's blog pays homage to Where Angels Fear to Tread and the appellation of this new blog refers to one of my favorite (and oft-quoted) literary passages of all time:

"Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die."

Ah, Howards End . . . how I love this book!

"The prose and the passion" also pertains to the polarities of life and to the nature of being a musician.

Forster aside, the real point of this entry is to celebrate my foray into the vast and bewildering blogging universe. Private person that I am, I'm rather surprised at myself for entering such a public forum, but I do enjoy writing as a satisfying outlet for the many thoughts passing through my mind. This blog will most likely feature reflections on performances and travels, all sorts of nonsense, and hopefully occasional glimmers of insight!

Until next time, peace.
EJR