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.

Many Christians celebrate Trinity Sunday on the first Sunday after Pentecost. What is interesting about this is that it is the only Christian feast that celebrates a doctrine as opposed to an event or person. This doctrine – the Holy Trinity: One God in three Persons – has been discussed and argued throughout history and is regarded as a holy mystery. And like many mysteries, people have tried to wrap their brains around it and explain it using our limited, logical speech.

This is where, perhaps, a mind like Johann Sebastian Bach could help out the philosophers and theologians. His Clavierubung III is a marvelous piece of music, but it’s practically a work of theology as well. It will be impossible to unpack this volume in one blog post. In this book of music, one of the few that Bach managed to publish in his lifetime, Bach shows his heartfelt devotion to God and gives an homage to Martin Luther, who was seen as the liberator of Protestant Christians and in many ways, the founder of modern Germany.

The Prelude & Fugue in Eb are the first and last pieces in the Clavierubung III. Besides the less subtle use of Eb – a key with three flats – the prelude can be divided into three distinct themes. Each theme, however, can not stand alone; they require the other two themes to complete the work. The fugue is actually three different fugues. Despite the uniqueness of each fugue, the subject of the first fugue finds its way (unsurprisingly) into the second and third; so, what seems like three fugues is actually one.