Now her Goldberg's (Finch Junior College, NY, 1959).

William Schuman; Symphony No. 3 (the earlier CBS NYPO/Bernstein recording, rather than the easier-to-find remake for DG). It's a symphony I return to regularly, more often than not with a sneaking suspicion that it's the finest American symphony of all...

Please do, martle: if you know Roy Harris's Third Symphony you might discern a certain influence, but this is one of those rare cases where the work that follows is greater by far than the one which inspired it. I mentioned it in passing on the Fugue thread: the first part comprises a Passacaglia and Fugue, the second a Chorale and Toccata, all derived from one theme. It's big-boned, athletic music, very much of its time (1941), with some wonderfully energetic counterpoint and a firm sense of structure, and drmatic pace; stunningly orchestrated, too.

Years ago when I was on tour with Chess, we played Cambridge for a couple of weeks, and I found a copy of the score in one of the shops. I grabbed it avidly, and a man who was standing nearby sensing my excitement, commented what a wondeful piece it was and asked if by any chance I was intending to conduct it: where he should have got that idea from I don't know. It was only after he'd left that I learned he was Robin Holloway.

There's a recent Naxos recording I've not yet heard, and since its conductor has let me down badly recently with a wilfully wayward recording of another favourite work (Panufnik's Sinfonia Sacra) I'd steer clear of it for now, but I've located a cheap source for the earlier Lenny version here.

There's another wonderful work of his called A Song of Orpheus for cello and orchestra (as yet unsilvered) which I love to bits; it's high on the list for transferring from LP once I get things organised...

Presumably you don't have a lot else to chose from just now.....

Finale copying work accompaniment for the night:

Scriabin, various works, including the F# major & minor sonatas, several of the Etudes, & some other misc. works, with Noriko Kawai, piano, acquired through the generosity of one Member Biroc a few yrs ago (and, if I remember right, available only in Japan?).  It's really quite exceptional playing, I think.  And a thoroughly enjoyable listen, in a slightly sappy, Scriabin sort of way.

Why did he think that adding meant increase?
To me it was dilution ...

(Sorry, couldn't resist!)

O it's not that bad - I still have all the physical CDs I've bought over the years 



t_i_n who is that quote by?

Yes, here it is.


'Dockery was junior to you,
Wasn't he?' said the Dean. 'His son's here now.'
Death-suited, visitant, I nod. 'And do
You keep in touch with --' Or remember how
Black-gowned, unbreakfasted, and still half-tight
We used to stand before that desk, to give
'Our version' of 'these incidents last night'?
I try the door of where I used to live:

Locked. The lawn spreads dazzlingly wide.
A known bell chimes. I catch my train, ignored.
Canal and clouds and colleges subside
Slowly from view. But Dockery, good Lord,
Anyone up today must have been born
In '43, when I was twenty-one.
If he was younger, did he get this son
At nineteen, twenty? Was he that withdrawn

High-collared public-schoolboy, sharing rooms
With Cartwright who was killed? Well, it just shows
How much ... How little ... Yawning, I suppose
I fell asleep, waking at the fumes
And furnace-glares of Sheffield, where I changed,
And ate an awful pie, and walked along
The platform to its end to see the ranged
Joining and parting lines reflect a strong

Unhindered moon. To have no son, no wife,
No house or land still seemed quite natural.
Only a numbness registered the shock
Of finding out how much had gone of life,
How widely from the others. Dockery, now:
Only nineteen, he must have taken stock
Of what he wanted, and been capable
Of ... No, that's not the difference: rather, how

Convinced he was he should be added to!
Why did he think adding meant increase?
To me it was dilution. Where do these
Innate assumptions come from? Not from what
We think truest, or most want to do:
Those warp tight-shut, like doors. They're more a style
Our lives bring with them: habit for a while,
Suddenly they harden into all we've got

And how we got it; looked back on, they rear
Like sand-clouds, thick and close, embodying
For Dockery a son, for me nothing,
Nothing with all a son's harsh patronage.
Life is first boredom, then fear.
Whether or not we use it, it goes,
And leaves what something hidden from us chose,
And age, and then the only end of age.