By Aaron Copland
Essentially the most forthright and gifted of yankee composers writes the following of the half performed through the freely creative brain in composing, appearing, and hearing song. He urges extra widespread functionality and extra delicate listening to of the track of recent composers. He discusses sound media, new and outdated, and appears towards a musical destiny during which the timbres and intensities constructed through the digital engineer may well locate their musical form and which means. He considers the twentieth-century riot opposed to classical shape and tonality, and the new nerve-racking political interference with the shape and content material of song. He analyzes American and modern ecu track and the flowering of in particular Western mind's eye in Villa-Lobos and Charles Ives. the ultimate bankruptcy is an account, in part autobiographical, of the composer who seeks to discover, in an business society like that of the USA, justification for the lifetime of artwork within the lifestyles approximately him. Mr. Copeland, whose striking luck in arriving at a musical vernacular has introduced him a large viewers, will collect as many readers as he has listeners with this imaginatively written e-book.
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This consultant to the piano literature for the one-handed pianist surveys over 2,100 person piano items which come with not just live performance literature yet pedagogical items in addition. Following the advent are 4 chapters cataloguing unique works for the suitable hand by myself, unique works for the left hand by myself, tune prepared or transcribed for one hand by myself, and concerted works for one hand in live performance with different pianists, tools, or voices.
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Extra info for Music and Imagination (The Charles Eliot Norton Lectures)
At least at the casino the drinks were free if you were nice to the wait staff. Now and again we would go down to San Francisco. I played a few of my tunes with David Grisman at his house in Marin, and was part of a huge entourage backstage with the Grateful Dead at one of their last Winterland gigs. A marvel of controlled confusion, backstage was like a schoolyard the width and height of a basketball court with children bouncing about while Mom and Dad, and various other members of the band, stood in private huddles here and there smoking spliffs the size of their thumbs.
But if your newest set of mediums are old as God’s dog, the appetite will do. Anyway, no shortage of stringed things here. While cowboy and cowgirl chefs jet in and out of the kitchen, everyone who isn’t playing Texas music nonstop eats delicacies from Texas nonstop. Above freezing or below. Rain or snow. On arrival, carloads un-crease from their ride and hang a conspicuous spoon around their neck. The menu for this musico-feast in the East Texas forest covers breakfast, lunch, and dinner, served in continuous waves on outsized picnic tables on the screened-in back porch.
You took those long-haired hippie weirdos, and you had the rednecks, and they got together— they all liked Willie Nelson and they all liked to drink a cold beer— and you ended up with a bunch of great big, broad-shouldered, longhaired, kick-ass hippies. “We were on the road all the time, playing music, drinking whiskey, and smoking pot. ’ When I wasn’t out playing with the band, I did a lot of work with Vince, all over Texas, because I really loved his music. We were young—hell, I was barely 30, and Vince was 26, 27.