As an organist, people often say to me, “wow, how do you play with your hands and feet at the same time?” Honestly, it’s not so hard. The feet are just like having two extra fingers – clunky, long fingers – but really it’s just a matter of an extra iota of coordination.
However, as an accordionist, I am truly blown away by this performer. He’s taking what I do with ten fingers and two feet, and doing it without the feet, while providing his own air supply. He makes it look easy, but let me assure you, this guy is one in a billion (literally … this is some seriously virtuoso accordioning; there can’t be more than 7 in the world who can play like this.)
this is good, but even more impressive is his rendition of Messiaen’s “Dieu parmi nous“
It was 1750. For nearly a century, Baroque piety and gravity weighed heavily on European aristocrats. “Hey, enough of this square, complex music that makes me think about death and stuff. Don’t you know anything, you know, hummable? Something light and upbeat? We just want to party.” Poor aristocrats. What was there to do? The colonies were colonial, the soldiers were soldiering, the peasants were peasanting. They desperately needed a new entertainment – something their parents and grandparents would despise.
Thankfully, the tides were about to change, and the classical era was about to explode. Complex musical patterns gave way to simple, transparent forms. Rich harmony gave way to (essentially) three or four chord functions. Serious, “what is the meaning of life” oratorio gave way to light “let’s see how many people I can sleep with in three hours” opera. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times (quite literally, too.) And, generally speaking, it didn’t end well for those poor aristocrats.
Perhaps it was more “worst of times” than “best of times”. Even so, plenty of real treasures of astounding beauty remain from the classical era, including this well-loved dance from the opera Orfeo ed Euridice by Christoph von Gluck.
I was introduced to the music of living American composer Daniel Dorff by my (young) children, of all people.
If you have kids, and you have a car, you’ve probably been there. A long car ride (and by “long” I mean “more than 30 seconds”), and the whining begins: bathroom, bored, s/he touched me, hungry, s/he wiped boogers on me. So as the parent, you learn important skills in distraction, and put together a literal bag of tricks in an attempt to retain not only a sliver of sanity, but also your will to live. In my trick-bag are many CD’s of music; many of them are just slightly less annoying than the sound of whining children, but hey, the lesser of two evils, right?
While I don’t really know him personally, I admire Dorff because, while his music has been played by major orchestras and ensembles (thinks global), he’s a guy who clearly does not suffer from a big head (acts local.) Besides composing, is vice president of music publisher, gives lectures, plays clarinet, volunteers for professional guilds, helps to develop music software, among (I imagine) many other things. And his list of compositions shows that he is writing for people he knows, rather than untouchable superstars (though his pieces have been played by them as well.) So, it turns out that famous composers can be normal, nice, people!
Here’s a short movement of a different piece that I believe captures Dorff’s sound and writing style.
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