When I was 17, I visited Oberlin College, the school where my mother went. The two-day trip was a powerful experience for me in many ways, and left an indelible memory burned in my mind. First, this was my first visit to a college. I went there, had a lesson with the organ professor, and spent the night in the dorms as a guest of a current student. Oberlin really puts the “liberal” in liberal arts (and that’s probably a gross understatement), and the people I met left a strong, positive impression on me. In that two-day and one-night trip, I went to a midnight organ concert, played Quake with other students on the college network (this was a brand new experience for me – it was just 1997, after all), went to the art museum, and went to one of the weirdest and best movies I had ever seen.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is … well, I don’t know how to best describe it. It’s a French-Jazz-Musical-Opera-Art Film. The colors are truly technicolor and exaggerated to the point of being obnoxious. The story is heart-wrenching. Michel Legrand‘s film score is awesome: at times hilarious – like the opening number, an upbeat jazz number where the hero, Guy, sings about fixing cars; at times so corny that it traverses the corny spectrum and becomes good again – like the strings’ main theme; at times, somewhere in between – like the love duet between Guy and Geneviève.

Seeing this movies as an impressionable teenager, accompanied by the witty and clever commentary of the Oberlin students, instantly made it one of my favorites. If you don’t know this movie, I would highly recommend seeing it. There’s nothing quite like it. I don’t know what exactly it is, but I like it.

Quite frankly, nobody can even come near Shakespeare in his mastery of language. He is to English what Bach was to counterpoint, Tchaikovsky to melody, or Mozart to form and balance.

Anyone who sings in a choir knows the name John Rutter. He might be considered one of those “crossover composers” – writing music that is hard to place as purely “classical” or “popular”. Naturally, this has made him disliked by many elitist musicians who seek reasons to turn their noses up at composers who are actually successful during their lifetimes. But once you get over that bit of nonsense, you’ll find that he is a master composer with impeccable technique (solid & interesting vocal writing) who knows how to please his performers and audiences with honest, unpretentious music.

“Blow, blow, thou winter wind” is a song found in Shakespeare’s “As you Like It“. I am particularly fond of this text, and find comfort in it when I’m having a bad day. Rutter’s setting is perfect. It flows like a popular song, has a sweeping melody (with a couple fantastic 9-8 suspensions!) and some harmonic twists that give it a bite – like a winter wind: not so unkind as man’s ingratitude.

I don’t particularly like Hemingway. I spit in the milk of his literature. I’ve read a few of his books. They just don’t resonate with me. Maybe I was too young when I read them. Maybe it’s because I prefer Dickens. I like long sentences, after all. I like details.

Today’s piece is rich in history. I learned a lot writing this. And I’ve only just scratched the surface.

Joaquín Rodrigo wrote Concierto de Aranjuez. Supposedly it celebrated the end of the Spanish Civil War. Supposedly it celebrated the victory of Francisco Franco. More likely, Rodrigo spit in the milk of Franco’s dictatorship. The Concierto was written for guitar and orchestra. Rodrigo didn’t play the guitar. He scorned the milk of the guitar. The guitar made it sound Spanish, though. Even though he wrote it in Paris. Hemingway reported on the Spanish Civil War. He also lived in Paris.

Miles Davis arranged the second movement for jazz orchestra.  It takes up most of the album Sketches of Spain. Some people complained that it wasn’t jazz. They sneered at the milk of Davis’ music. Davis said that he liked the music, though. He sneered back at the milk of their sneering.

Thanks to Al Pearson for the recommendation. Maybe it’s time to read Hemingway again.