Welcome to another (late) Musical Monday! Today’s piece of music is titled… wait, I’ll let you guys guess…
..that’s right! It’s titled
Friday, featuring the beloved Rebecca Black Ginger Snaps, written by Stephen Chatman in his music collection, Preludes for Piano, Book 3 between 1999 and 2001. Yep, it’s a recent (21st-century!) composition, and as you’d expect from recent compositions, it defies conventions a little bit.
The fies can fence shins»
I have a musical history exam in approximately 3 hours (since this post is scheduled, I’ll be finished my exam /exactly/ when this post is published), so here’s a short post for today, seeing as Blood Lad 13 was released some time ago.
Not NSFW, I swear»
Oh man, this is HST Week but I’ve done nothing but HSRs; I swear, I’ve got all the musical stuff planned, but school stuff and parental stuff are seriously hampering my efforts to do something. At least I’ve got that Level E 7 post done (for next next day).
There’s not much more to read»
Well, whaddya know.
I have a new camera.
I’m too scared to use it right now, so I’ll keep on recording with my old one until it breaks – it’s only about 30% broken right now. It can record just fine.
Nothing else to read»
For some reason, I seem to really like the number 7.
Firstly, there seems to be some time/video delay – as some of you may know, my camera sorta died on me a while ago, so now the only thing it can do is record videos, which it obviously is doing with quite a lot of bugs.
C’mon guys, this is /music/, some time/video discrepancies shouldn’t irk you much if you’re not looking at the video :P
For that matter, the lighting sucked, so the only thing worth looking at at the video was Bulbasaur.
As with most influential composers of, well, since the Renaissance, Jacques François Antoine Ibert was born in Paris. The 1890s were the start of quite an… emotionally compelling era, with German expressionism and French impressionism marking their lasting (pardon the pun) impressions on the musical industry.
Conceived in this turmoil of musical clashes, you’d expect Ibert to pick a style and stick with it; on the contrary, he was quite unattached to any style themes, preferring instead to dabble in the mishmash of genres prevalent in Parisian (and indeed, worldwide) society at the time.
This did not mean he was a bad composer at all, for he won one of the most coveted prize in musical composition – the Prix de Rome, waarded only to such geniuses as Hector Berlioz, Georges Bizet, and Claude Debussy.
After decades of productive musical establishment, the Axis-aligned Vichy Regime (of France) banned his music, and Ibert voluntarily moved to Switzerland to continue his career.
He died in 1962, when he was 71.
In 1943, after the outbreak of war, he composed ‘Petite suite en quinze images’ – Small suite, in 15 images (I BET YA DIDN’T KNOW THAT HUH). A completely solo piano work, he delicately paints many idyllic scenes of a peaceful time. Strangely, it seems (I just can’t find good recordings for all of them) that none of them are very loud. A perfectly natural thought for one wanting to escape the war.
The 7th piece in the collection, ‘La Promenade en Traîneau’, actually means ‘the Sleigh Ride’, rather than what I thought it was; ‘the Train Station’. Because of this, I tried to evoke visualizations of a quiet train station, with the suddenness and swiftness of a train arriving and leaving in the middle of the night. It seemed so much more… obvious. Before I searched up the real translation, I just couldn’t get why everyone else was basically slamming the notes to make it stand out against the seemingly unimportant bass. Really, it was quite… disgusting. Horrifying.
But what am I, to criticise others’ perceptions? What difference what that be to brutally sabotaging others’ inner mentality? When not even I, am properly expressing the dynamical nuances, the whole… calmness of the scene.
Yet, a train station would make much more sense. The quiet left-hand Alberti footsteps motioning the train to come faster, quicker, so that they could fially go home after a long day’s work. The sudden plunge into organized noise as the vehicle slowly slides into the platform. Quick pit-pats of shoe on ground, growing faster, louder, as swarms of people flood onto the train.
And then it’s gone.
…That’s a mouthful.
Anyways, for, like, two weeks, I thought Bleach was going to end, so I was about to make a post about it ending…
…but it didn’t. DAMMIT KUBO MOTHERFUCKING AIZEN IS MOTHERFUCKING IN PRISON FOR TWENTY FIVE MOTHERFUCKING THOUSAND YEARS ALREADY, AND ICHIGO’S LOST ALL OF HIS MOTHERFUCKING SHINIGAMI POWERS. NOW WILL YOU STOP STOP STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP THE MADNESS?!
Next up, I recorded another recording of something, but THE CAMERA DIDN’T CATCH MY DYNAMICS, which was the ENTIRE POINT OF THE PIECE. Oh well, I guess I can re-record it again…
Finally, a day after I recorded the dynamic-fail piece, I recorded this; on October 23rd, to be precise. My computer was still dead then, so what else to do with my time?
There are numerous mistakes here as well, but my camera (yet again, I place the blame on something else) is set on one side of the piano, so the place where I wanted less volume to be actually got increased more in volume.
I probably rushed this as well; it’s supposed to have much more of a ‘harp’ sound, as it’s actually written for either piano or harp. You can play this on a harp. Yeah.
Sergei Sergeyevich Prokofiev was born in 1891 in Russia. Not SOVIET RUSSIA because that wouldn’t exist until Prokofiev became 26.
Anyways, from a young age, Prokofiev began demonstrating his ability to be superior over everyone else. When he was nine, he wrote an EPIC OPERA, first performed in NINETEEN OH ONE by SOME PEOPLE for an audience of SIX.
He obviously entered a prodigious musical academy while being considerably younger than the other students, and demonstrated a extreme passion for mus(ry
…His first major work was for the famous impresario Diaghilev, the very same who commissioned Stravinsky’s three Ballet Russes Ballets (Petrushka (F# MAJOR GO GO), L’Oiseau de Feu (the Firebird), and Le Sacre du Printemps (the Rite of Spring)), the Chout ballet.
Eventually, SOVIET RUSSIA began to appear and socialize much of Russia’s art forms; his experimental, modern tones had to move to San Francisco.
After the first world war was over, he returned to Russia to much more favourable conditions. However, Prokofiev died on March the 5th, 1953 – the same day as Joseph Stalin.
As an aside, because everyone was SAD about Stalin’s death, they couldn’t carry Prokofiev’s body out for the funeral until the 8th.
His Opus Twelve is a collection of 10 works for either piano or harp, each one being completely different from the others (e.g. Number 5 is ‘Caprice: Allegretto capricciosamente’). It was composed between 1906 and 1913, and had its premiere in 1914. Number Seven (this one) is the ‘easiest’ to play…
Anywho, Prokofiev was an awesome man. I mean, anyone who composes anything that has a title like ‘The Love for Three Oranges’ has to be awesome.