Prelude by Bach, irresponsibly bodged into D скачать в хорошем качестве

Prelude by Bach, irresponsibly bodged into D

"As naturally as the oak bears an acorn, and the vine a gourd, man bears a poem, either spoken or done. It is the chief and most memorable success, for history is but a prose narrative of poetic deeds." -- Henry David Thoreau Young or old, among the best ways of revving-up the cognitive gears (inside your gourd) for optimal technical and creative competence is to familiarize oneself with works by Johann Sebastian Bach, Hans Christian Andersen and Aesop. So here's a bumpily baroque warty gourd in charcoal (made from burnt warty gourd) accompanied by a peppy fiddle improv ("rambunctiousnessimo") of a classy baroque melody by Bach - with an important gourd-related haiku. If you read just one gourd-related haiku this year... Gourd hanging from vine in rosy twilight frosted. Darkness falls - gourd night! And as if that were impressive enough, I once dreamt that I was playing Bach and suddenly realized that the great master himself was listening intently while reclining upon a lazy-boy recliner across the room. He looked like John Nettles (    • Midsomer Murders 2009: John Nettles (...   ) wearing a white wig with well organized curls. And talk about impressive, prominently displayed shoe buckles. Not indifferently, he gave me a subtle nod when he saw that I had noticed his presence. When I finished playing he stood up and walked towards me. In one hand was some kind of metallic object. A lead pipe? A knife? Was I to be beaten senseless - or gored? No! It was a silver stein overflowing with warm, frothy ale. He raised it into the air before me as if to toast my performance. I smiled. Imagine the joy of Bach himself enjoying my own interpretation! Then he threw the ale into my face. And that was when I awoke to find the neighbor's senile pit bull urinating upon me like a racehorse. Drat. So much for dreams. Repelled by the less than idealistic ending? Not poetically lofty enough? That's unfortunate. (Sorry, no refunds.) Moral of the story: Be brave - and click here to learn more about Bach...    • Bach - A Passionate Life   "Into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before." Edgar Allen Poe And so that's the story of how I named my custom-made violin capo Edgar Allen. And was Bach a brave soul who knew how to brandish pointy objects? As a matter of historical fact, Bach had no shortage of self-confidence and was willing to rise to almost any challenge. True story: One evening, together with his cousin, Barbara Catharina, Herr Bach was returning home from a long day of composing fugues when the two of them passed a group of students sitting around. And one of the students got up and chased down Bach. So Bach turns to the guy (who is much taller than him) and sees that the guy is brandishing a large stick. The student’s name was Geyersbach, who happened to be a bassoonist in the student orchestra for which Bach (now still in his 20s) was in charge. And Geyersbach was very angry. "Why have you been making abusive remarks about me?" Geyersbach demanded. To which Bach replied that he had not, and even if he had, "no one could prove anything." Ha! Note that last part. That means that Bach may have been very pious, but that he was as capable as anyone of being sneaky for the sake of convenience. "You may not have insulted me," Geyersbach bleated, "but you insulted my bassoon. Anybody who insults my bassoon insults me!" Then Geyersbach yelled, "You dirty dog," and began hitting Bach with the stick. Given that Bach was an unpopular teacher, he was used to students making verbal assaults. But for some reason Bach had also taken to carrying a dagger, which he then reached down for. Geyersbach saw what Bach was doing, and wrestled the maestro to the ground. The two then rolled around and exchanged blows. Eventually the other students forcibly separated them. So Bach got to his feet, regained his dignified composure, and then he and his cousin continued home. But, not being the sort of wily super-genius composer to take Geyersbach's guff passively, he appealed to the church court, demanding that Geyersbach be punished. And sure, Bach's cousin was able to confirm his version of the events. But when Geyersbach testified, it turned out the composer had, in fact, called him a "nanny-goat bassoonist" at a rehearsal, much to the amusement of the other performers. The court ruled that no punishment was necessary, and advised Bach to try harder to get along with his students. Possible moral of that factual fable? BEWARE OF BASSOONISTS. But one thing is certain: Bach was a composer of sublimely wonderful music. Vive Bach!