A Sunday Morning's Curiousity
Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 23 in F Minor, Op. 57
That may not mean much to you. It's a piano piece written by Ludwig himself, back in...yeah, back in. I don't know whether he was going deaf, or had already become so, when he was writing this but it's beautiful in an almost melancholy sort of way. I woke up with this piece in my head, and the specific instance when i first heard it used.
It's in "The Man Who Wasn't There", a Coen Brothers film. They interlace the film with several Beethoven pieces which coincide very well with the scenes they were chosen for. The above, for instance, layers the background with that melancholy while the main character ponders over a philosophical thought that struck him while driving. It plays while he stairs out his car window at people passing by, believing he's discovered something that puts him above them. That sets him outside the box they live in.
Carter Burwell, the composer for the original pieces used in the film, has a way of writing melancholy very well. A depressively pensive mix of tones and instruments. But not overly so. Not to a suicidal extent or even to a place that makes you want to shut yourself in a room for hours. It gets you thinking. Sometimes sadly, sometimes just deeply. Sometimes both.
I'm not listening to the soundtrack because i feel that way or because a curiously pondersome thought has found its way into the morning mix. I just enjoy it. It's a sunday morning and i've got church in a little less than an hour. On this particular morning i will be accompanied by m'lady who is, as i write, finishing up a shower. My brother is sleeping in his room, door closed, breathing audibly.
And i wonder...
What music do they hear? Does it accompany a particular emotion or thought? Because Alyssa is awake does she hear the music more clearly? Or is it disotorted by the day's unfolding curiousities? Does my brother not comprehend the dream's serenade that plays out in his subconscious? Or perhaps his music is untainted, less distracted. A pure song.
Our music is constantly varying, always adapting to the changes in life's tempo and time signature. Here a flowing waltz, there a jazzy tune in seven-quarter while yonder lies an upbeat four-quarter with soul. But you never know what's playing until you get there. Maybe there's no sheet to read and it's improvisational, made up on the spot in accordance with the moment's calling.
Enjoy it. It's life.
That may not mean much to you. It's a piano piece written by Ludwig himself, back in...yeah, back in. I don't know whether he was going deaf, or had already become so, when he was writing this but it's beautiful in an almost melancholy sort of way. I woke up with this piece in my head, and the specific instance when i first heard it used.
It's in "The Man Who Wasn't There", a Coen Brothers film. They interlace the film with several Beethoven pieces which coincide very well with the scenes they were chosen for. The above, for instance, layers the background with that melancholy while the main character ponders over a philosophical thought that struck him while driving. It plays while he stairs out his car window at people passing by, believing he's discovered something that puts him above them. That sets him outside the box they live in.
Carter Burwell, the composer for the original pieces used in the film, has a way of writing melancholy very well. A depressively pensive mix of tones and instruments. But not overly so. Not to a suicidal extent or even to a place that makes you want to shut yourself in a room for hours. It gets you thinking. Sometimes sadly, sometimes just deeply. Sometimes both.
I'm not listening to the soundtrack because i feel that way or because a curiously pondersome thought has found its way into the morning mix. I just enjoy it. It's a sunday morning and i've got church in a little less than an hour. On this particular morning i will be accompanied by m'lady who is, as i write, finishing up a shower. My brother is sleeping in his room, door closed, breathing audibly.
And i wonder...
What music do they hear? Does it accompany a particular emotion or thought? Because Alyssa is awake does she hear the music more clearly? Or is it disotorted by the day's unfolding curiousities? Does my brother not comprehend the dream's serenade that plays out in his subconscious? Or perhaps his music is untainted, less distracted. A pure song.
Our music is constantly varying, always adapting to the changes in life's tempo and time signature. Here a flowing waltz, there a jazzy tune in seven-quarter while yonder lies an upbeat four-quarter with soul. But you never know what's playing until you get there. Maybe there's no sheet to read and it's improvisational, made up on the spot in accordance with the moment's calling.
Enjoy it. It's life.
posted by Still Daddy at 7:32 AM
2 Comments:
I think you meant "stares," not "stairs." Sorry, just a minor correction. Kinda goes along with the their, there, and they're thing. *wink*
Anyways, I liked the music you had playing. It was nice. Sometimes music without words leaves you free to interpret the mood of it on your own. I don't think I was particularly paying attention, but it was nice. And I couldn't really hear it while I was in the shower.
Life IS good! God gave it to us and made it so. Woot!
second to last paragraph. beautiful.
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