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Jan. 6th, 2005
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Jan. 6th, 2005 12:14 pmIntended to mention this a few days ago, but it slipped my mind... as the song is now running through my head (albeit played on John McLaughlin's Wechter) I think it deserves mention...
Three days ago, I pulled out the trusty Ibanez acoustic, as our search through boxes in the garage revealed a hasty transcription of a song I wrote a few years ago, and thought lost. I had scoured all of the staff notebooks and could not find it, and the lack of playing in the interim period had caused it to fade completely from mind. It was in a three-subject notebook, written in improvised tabulature. I had never thought to look for it there, and if I hadn't been trying to rip out and either save or destroy the few pages used to reclaim the remainder for the kids schoolwork, I never would have found it.
The piece, "A Rose in Winter Fields," was written to accompany a poem of the same name. A melody for the words was never established, and I believe the music and poem diverged - with the laptop gone, the poem itself isn't easily accessible, somewhere in stacks of writing - but each one evokes a similar feeling, of a very natural, wintry scene.
The music is coldly beautiful - despite the fact that it originated in the desire to work out some fingerpicking exercises. It runs through a fast, steady t-i-m-i picking for a verse structure, and into a chorus that has a much slower chord and arpeggio bit. I've decided to remove the "solo" which went into a very baroque triplet feel, and really didn't balance with the rest of the piece, which is written in fairly brisk, steady 2/4. In only a few nights time, I've managed to overcome almost two years of not playing and relearn the tune, playing it, perhaps, smoother than ever before.
Two nights ago, Rachel asked if I can play it for her every night when she goes to bed, forever, and I said I'd give it my best shot. Last night, I actually gave a good performance of it, with several of the transitions in picking patterns going almost as smooth as they should. Even better than a standing ovation, she curled up half-way through, and was asleep as the ending notes faded away...
( famous name dropping segment )
Three days ago, I pulled out the trusty Ibanez acoustic, as our search through boxes in the garage revealed a hasty transcription of a song I wrote a few years ago, and thought lost. I had scoured all of the staff notebooks and could not find it, and the lack of playing in the interim period had caused it to fade completely from mind. It was in a three-subject notebook, written in improvised tabulature. I had never thought to look for it there, and if I hadn't been trying to rip out and either save or destroy the few pages used to reclaim the remainder for the kids schoolwork, I never would have found it.
The piece, "A Rose in Winter Fields," was written to accompany a poem of the same name. A melody for the words was never established, and I believe the music and poem diverged - with the laptop gone, the poem itself isn't easily accessible, somewhere in stacks of writing - but each one evokes a similar feeling, of a very natural, wintry scene.
The music is coldly beautiful - despite the fact that it originated in the desire to work out some fingerpicking exercises. It runs through a fast, steady t-i-m-i picking for a verse structure, and into a chorus that has a much slower chord and arpeggio bit. I've decided to remove the "solo" which went into a very baroque triplet feel, and really didn't balance with the rest of the piece, which is written in fairly brisk, steady 2/4. In only a few nights time, I've managed to overcome almost two years of not playing and relearn the tune, playing it, perhaps, smoother than ever before.
Two nights ago, Rachel asked if I can play it for her every night when she goes to bed, forever, and I said I'd give it my best shot. Last night, I actually gave a good performance of it, with several of the transitions in picking patterns going almost as smooth as they should. Even better than a standing ovation, she curled up half-way through, and was asleep as the ending notes faded away...
( famous name dropping segment )