Ann, thanks for reminding me to name that tune. Actually, six “tunes”: the Háry János Suite, which I know that you like, and which I have come to like greatly. It portrays an elderly veteran reminiscing rather untruthfully about his gigantic role in repelling and defeating Napoleon I. The ballet videos are striking; the music might be an acquired taste, but I favor the movements which spotlight the santouri-cimbalom. The best of these instruments feature pedals for extra control. There is documentation of Babylonian dulcimers that are early examples.

For those who are interested, here is movement 5 of the Suite from a video made in Utah by an orchestra conducted by Maurice Abravanel. It remains the best I have found. https://youtu.be/FODCYmtd_T4

Another from Romania: https://youtu.be/cGXG4uTKcis

And for santouri, heck, there’s so much to select from. Maybe: https://youtu.be/Jk7nFxU4v2M

Thanks for all the links, Allen; I'll listen tomorrow, while I'm referencing :)

Green Man smile for Ann, upthread :D

Best wishes,
Fliss

"Martin, totally correct on Kodaly [Háry János]. I think it’s his best piece, better than Taras Bulba, etc."

Pssst! ... Allen, 'Taras Bulba' is by Janáček.

Janáček indeed, whose Sinfonietta lifts my heart.

But, to get the thread back on track, let us consider what happens when one gets too involved with the instrument under consideration. I like to think of Allen being thus transformed:

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of paradise.

From Kubla Khan by S T Coleridge. A warning to us all of the dangers of addiction to the dulcimer/cimbalom/santouri.
.

Aaaaaaaaaarrrgh! What me worry?
Ever since I heard Janáček's Glagolitic Mass, my preconscious assumed he wrote everything striking. I hang my head in sorrow (or pride, because this proves I'm not a robot). Thank you, Brian for proving that I'm analog like my slide rules, and I, I am trying hard to look ashamed and grin and bear it at the same time, and and...

Did you know that Tennyson wrote the famous painting The Rake's Progress? I thought not. It was on the BBC this morning.

As was this, really, this morning. The talking head is my son-in-law, Matthew Fagan, and he's telling us about trees.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Z6U...ew?usp=sharing

Anyway, I will swallow hard and accept today's dunce cap.



PS: Ann, nice comment. Gentle. Unlike Coleridge, I try very hard to confine my milk drinking to Fat-Free.
(Ann, you could buy my book. "Allen Tice" on Amazon. Use the "look inside" feature at the second item on avoiding mistakes. Anne Bradstreet was an early American poet of note, born in Britain.)

Hi folks,

Here's a random poemusical piece, with prompt.

How Not to Give Up Smoking


At the end of the day, I’ve decided to put on Chopin
to drown the crickets out – not the Nocturnes,
which I love, but the Études which after all
exactly fit their title. It’s 3 a.m.,
and I still hear the crickets over Ashkenazy
at the piano. It seems a perfect time
to collect my thoughts, such as they are. The white
and black keys dance at incredible speed, I can
almost see Ashkenazy’s busy fingers.

I’m slowly reading through the piles of books
on my coffee table – Horace, Haldór Laxness,
Italo Svevo – how not to give up smoking.
They quietly nudge me to resume my reading,
as if the world were not asleep at this hour,
as if I had a torch to read each page.


Ashkenazy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faR9CA-qZJU

Thanks for the contributions, everyone :)

Allen, I've listened and enjoyed; thank you! Brian, thanks for being here. And Ann, that's excellent :D

John, thanks for Ashkenazy! I think you're aware that I love Chopin's piano music. Your poem is a delight to read. I must confess to a silly moment where I misread line 5 and thought the crickets were sort of hovering over the pianist, oops, boops.

Now, shawm report: following their trip to the top of Cleeve Hill on Sunday to watch the sunrise, Happenstance went to Upton Folk Festival. It was a cold day and the shawn player's fingers became too cold to allow him to play the shawm, so they all returned to Winchcombe. Such is the importance of the shawm.

I wrote a poem about the dance 'Upton Sticks' while I was Poet-in-Residence for Happenstance; I thought I might post it, but I see I need to revise it first. I hope to do that between work tasks tomorrow :)

Fliss, you have reminded me of my Brexit joke. An Englishman, an Irishman, and a Scotsman (or Scot if you prefer) walk into a pub. Then the Englishman decides to go so they all leave.

I'm glad you liked my poem! It could be called Crickets Over Ashkenazy. I for my part enjoyed your Winchcombe story. I've also enjoyed the whole Janacek thread, it is very informative!

Cheers,
John

Greetings all,

Here's another poemusical combination. First, the link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PC6cPairOTA

And then, the poem:


The Shirt That Won’t Come Off


Out of Mendelssohn’s Violin
Concerto in E Minor – out
of art made great by passion –
come the wheeling seasons
on our blue planet.

This is the shirt that won’t come off,
the bow and string
that burn my heart to cinders.
I am standing
at the composer’s shoulder

as he marks up his page.
Time passes – time
laid out like architecture,
amid the fuss and bustle
of profane existence.
 


Cheers,
John