Apr 13, 2004
I think Rachmaninoff's just delicate.
There are so many things that I love that it is almost not worth mentioning them. So many that I sometimes forget items on the list until something recalls them for me. A little bit of The Seven Year Itch in the background, and all of a sudden, I am reminded that I do so love Rachmaninoff. So much so that I rush off to Friendster to update my profile. What if someone wanted to be my friend last month but was disappointed by the gaping hole in the portrait of my musical tastes? It's a crime.
I remember going to see Shine in the theater back in late 1996. Or perhaps it was early 1997. I think I went to see it by myself, but I'm not positive. I do remember buying the film score but not really caring about the original bits. I just wanted to hear the piano concertos. And there's also a lovely bit of choral Vivaldi in the mix. Highly recommended. But these are the sorts of talking points that come out of the mouths of people wearing argyle socks. And not in a cool way. I realize that. There is a(n) hoity-toity quality to the nature of such discussions. I can never decide which camp I wish to reside in. Because I like too many things. I like plenty of highbrow. But the lowbrow is just as dear to me. I like fine dining. But I also like hot dogs. I am not unwilling to pay corkage fees. But I also like to swig from the bottle. I keep my legs crossed and my hands folded. And I also run amok. I don't like to be tied down. Especially when it comes to favorites. When pressed, I writhe and wriggle and find ways of skirting the issue. I am almost always willing to proclaim my love for something. And often my disdain. But the regions in-between are untraversed. I am a coward when it comes to such judgments.
Anyway, I do so like Rachmaninoff. I remember listening to a collection of piano concertos (or concerti, if you must) in my office at my beloved biotech employer of old. Countless days in that office. With my Japanese alphabet tacked up on the wall and my CDs stacked high. I used to bang my knees on the handles of my desk drawers all the time. That was not my favorite thing. But there was a security and a serenity to my life at that time. I knew what the days were going to be like. And it didn't bother me. And when the fall daylight savings switch happened, I would drive home through residential neighborhoods, where little herds of goblins and spooks were making their way from door to door. Actually, I don't remember seeing any goblins or spooks. Football players and shamefully six year-old hookers, but no goblins or spooks. And in those days, I listened to music that made me love being awake and alive and sitting upright. And Rachmaninoff was in the mix. That's all.
I also love Marilyn Monroe, as some know. But that's an entirely separate topic.
posted by Mary Forrest at 12:56 AM | Back to Monoblog