Sonata

moonlight

the way

it casts beethoven's

long shadow

and here

the bare birch

there

dark arbor vitae

~ ralph murre

La Noche

somewhere
in the Spanish night
La Abuela
her tale of great sorrow
and dancing

~ RM


Inspired by pieces for a viola ensemble, which I heard yesterday, written by Michael Kimber and performed by some gifted students of Lawrence University playing at Bjorklunden . . .

Franz Liszt, b. 1811

The master, brilliant pianist Anthony Padilla, and a bunch of his about-to-be-brilliant students. Liszt, mostly, what with him turnin' 200 and all. Y' shoulda been there.

Pubbing with Pavo

Correspondence

Norbert Blei forwarded this the other day:

On Saturday, April 24th, 2010 , over thirty members of the Opera Company of Philadelphia Chorus and principal cast members from the upcoming production of LaTraviata converged on the Reading Terminal Market Italian Festival. Wearing street clothes and blending in with the crowd, the artists swung into action as the first orchestral strains of the famed " Brindisi " were piped through the market, giving a rousing, surprise performance for hundreds of delighted onlookers who were there to enjoy the Italian delicacies and the everyday treats that the Reading Terminal Market has to offer.
The four-minute piece drew an overwhelming crowd, and won a thunderous ovation that included both laughter and tears from the audience.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zmwRitYO3w

to which I shot back:

A beautiful thing, Norb. Thanks for sending it. Oddly, it was enhanced by my poor reception, which would stop the video every few seconds, giving me an opportunity to study the still frames; wonderful to see the looks of amazement, amusement, and sheer jubilation on the faces of the standers-by.
It all reminds me of a time, years back, when a Menominee or Marinette lumberman used to come across the bay and into the C & C Club, and in the middle of the night's revelry, from his barstool amid all the others, he would break into famous opera passages unannounced, with tremendous volume and gusto. He was, as it turned out, a very accomplished amateur or semi-pro, and he had exactly the same effect on a crowd of drunken sailors as this company did on patrons of the Reading Market. Sadly, I never knew his name, but I was privileged to hear him on several occasions.

Then, “There was an Irish pub in Chicago where the writers used to hang out. And the thing I loved about the place, every so often a piper would come in (dressed in full outfit) playing bag pipes...sending shivers of joy through everyone...He'd walk along the long bar, around the floor, past every table and booth playing his heart out--then disappear out the door back into the Chicago night.
Little miracles like that.” replied Norb, in part.

I’m thinking now, about Johnny, or more likely Gianni, the Flower Man, in 1960's Milwaukee; last of his street-corner roses sold for the evening, coming into Barney’s Wayside Inn, great moustache drooping, and spreading just a little more joy, bending low and rattling off a few tunes, with spoons, played across his weary knees.

. . .

sadder world

so much less music

in old men

~ Ralph Murre

As you can see from the almost totally unretouched photo above (in which Norb Blei appears courtesy of C.L. Peterson) Norb and Luciano did most of the drinking when we used to hang out, but I seem to recall buying every round.

Joan Comes Over Again

That unknowing object of my affection, Joan Baez, came over again last night. Oh, just for the appearance of propriety, we had in approximately 749 of my neighbors, which filled our little hall in Fish Creek to the rafters, but clearly, she had come to see me. (Backstory at http://caparem.blogspot.com/2009/05/open-relationship.html) And , as always, she won my heart again. Is her voice just as good as ever? No, the voice, too, is a thing of the flesh . . . but, is she still damn good? You betcha.

Highlight of the night? For me, Woody Guthrie's Deportee, poignant as ever, and maybe more so in light of the current immigrant struggles. Surprises? I thought she tread VERY lightly on the topic of our several wars. Also, something of a surprise to me, was the choice of an opening song which avowed a belief, if not an absolute faith, in God, and a couple songs later, she wove Take It To The Lord In Prayer into a medley. Now, anyone with so little to do that they follow this blog, will probably have gathered that I am not personally a great believer; but I must say I find it reassuring to learn that The Big G God is not yet actually the franchise property of the Right Wing.

While Ms. B sang many pieces without backup, much to my delight, she was ably assisted on quite a few numbers by a very good quartet, among whom was her son, Gabriel Harris, doing a smashing job on percussion. (You don't really have to fancy yourself a poet to use "smashing" and "percussion" in the same sentence, but it helps.) What a delight it must be for mother and son to be touring together, making music. She's been at it for a half-century, so if you haven't seen her in person, you might want to think about it soon. You will not be disappointed.

~ Ralph Murre

An Open Relationship

photo by Dana Tynan

I was just looking, with justified admiration, at the photo of Joan Baez on the cover of her great autobiography "And a Voice to Sing With", when I found I had to explain that Joan and I have been together for a long time. Since before the sixties turned into THE SIXTIES, in fact. Oh, we've had an open relationship, to be sure - I'm OK with the fact that she's had other lovers, and she's never said a word about my infidelities - but she's always been there when I've needed her, which has been pretty often. Those times when I needed somebody with some heart, some guts, some brains, and a voice to sing with.

Maintaining a long-lasting relationship is easier, I suppose, when one of the partners is totally unaware of the existence of the other, as she is unaware of me, but she's been true to the spirit of our romance, and I am happy. I can only ask what great love is without its little oddness ? Her book talks of the old days, and of her waiting in a dream for Marlon Brando to come along and swoop her up on his Wild-One Harley. About the same time, as it turns out, I was living in Northern Cal and was waiting in a dream for Joan to pick me up along Hwy. 101 in her Jaguar. I mean, what else did she have to do?

Years later, after demonstrating the courage to stand up to some of the nastiest offenders of all that is holy, she came to sing in the little auditorium of the barely one-horse Midwestern town where I live, so I went to hear her, and to be in the same room with one of the great heroes of my life. I sent flowers backstage, but lacked the courage to try to meet her. Our relationship is still unflawed by an actual introduction. I've heard that love knows no bounds, so I'm not sure what this is. But it's something like love.

~ Ralph Murre

Arrive Derci, Luciano

There is a little less sunshine in Italy today.

for a spin

"little wheel spin and spin"

Buffy Sainte Marie told us,

"and the big wheel turns around . . ."

and the wheels still turn

and the world goes 'round

and a little gets lost

for everything found

and the clouds still spin

through the sky, through the sky

and I thought I saw you

floating by

and the dark horse goes up

as the white one comes down

and the music plays on

as the children go 'round

and the song seems to be

you and I, you and I

smile at me as you go

spinning by

- Ralph Murre

A Song for Our Times

I really don't care - BABY IT'S HOT OUTSIDE
we'll turn up the air - BABY IT'S HOT OUTSIDE
the climate has been - BEEN HOPING THE TEMPS WOULD DROP
so very nice - I'LL HOLD YOUR HANDS, I'LL PUT THEM ON ICE
Al Gore has started to worry - I'M PRAYING FOR A SNOW FLURRY
Ralph Nader is pacing the floor - LISTEN TO HILLARY ROAR
I'm gonna learn to like curry - THANK GOODNESS THAT YOU'RE NOT FURRY
well maybe just one gas tank more - CRAWL IN THE FRIDGE AND I'LL POUR

we won't go out there - BABY IT'S HOT OUTSIDE
we won't need underwear - BABY IT'S HOT OUTSIDE
I wish I knew how - THE SIDEWALK IS MELTING NOW
to break this spell - I'LL DRAW A BATH, YOU'RE STARTING TO SMELL
I oughta say no, no, no sir - WE WON'T EVEN NEED TO KEEP THE TOASTER
at least I won't drive fifty-five - WHAT'S THE POINT IN STAYING ALIVE
I really don't care - BABY DON'T BURN UP
OOOH, BUT IT'S HOT OUTSIDE

BABY IT'S HOT OUTSIDE!

-Ralph Murre

godfather of bluegrass

for Bill Jorgenson, gone now

Sing us another

from the bluegrass, Brother

or from the blue sky above

you sang it clearly

and I loved it dearly

when I asked for

"On the Wings of a Dove"

- Ralph Murre