A morning sunny & cool, with golden light playing on the harbor.
In the spirit of even simple steps spanning seemingly epochal time, I've managed to bring MS. paper with me this morning. Perhaps this was always to be the occasion for the return to composition, the week of our 17th anniversary. Lest this seem a sort of fanfare heralding some bold quest — fact is, I'm starting modestly, with a trio for practical use in May.
How should I wish for greatly (or even much) changed circumstance, when I consider that both the Passion and the Viola Sonata were composed essentially on a bus or in a break room? For I am fond to regard both pieces as musical success. As nearly pure success as I have touched upon, yet.
New listening of late has been largely a matter of either new-to-me recordings of music already well known to me (the Boulez/Bartók Sony reissue box, which I fetched in for a song), or of pieces I've needed to get to know better (Ives' Concord Sonata, Hartmann's Concerto funebre). A set of three Ives pieces for two pianos in quarter-tones is genuine New Listening, though.
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