- Moonlight my ass!
- The HUMBLER
- Who’s the top-selling pianist in history?
- Fly Away :(
- The Mozarts of Hair Metal
- How To Compose Today
- What time is it?
- Twins separated at birth
- To hear the world in a single note and heaven in a triad
- RIP Elliott Carter, Maestro of Thorny Complexity
- Monster Mashup
- May the best man wi… Oh, damn!
- Music for driving into trees: Sweet Wine
- Music for driving into trees
- My Favorite Things
- Mammas Please Let Your Babies Grow Up to Play Cowbells
- Claret for Clara
- Last of the Bohemians
- Guy walks into a bar
- How to break a heart with one chord
- What are oboes good for?
November 08, 2012
“When’re you going to slow down, Donald?”
And I’d reply, “Look at Elliott Carter. Old enough to be my grandfather.”
I can no longer say that. I just learned, after eight dark days in Hurricane Sandy’s wake, that he’d passed away a month shy of 104.
I think of Carter’s music as a rowdy Thanksgiving conversation — every guest’s quirky personality on flamboyant display, everyone talking over each other, interrupting, arguing, storytelling. There’s eloquent Aunt Flo exaggerating some event that befell her on some cruise. There’s monotonous Mildred always trying to get 70 words in edgewise. There’s stentorian Uncle Stan, all wise saws and modern instances. There’s tipsy Poppop, bobbing and weaving, losing track of his stream of semiconsciousness. Can the center hold? Things get out of hand, cool down, then heat up…
This music is not for the faint of heart, but it’ll sure clean the cobwebs out of your ears.
Elliott Cater, national treasure.