More lovely piano music… solo piano 3!

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COVER ART:

LINER NOTES & SAMPLES:
I am at a stage of my life where I'm wise enough to be able to look back through all I've done so far, and summarize what's been most meaningful in helping me live on. I'm also green enough to hope that the best years of my life are ahead of me. The path I'm on, and the stones on which I'm standing are jarringly different than the ones I expected to see, looking 3, maybe 4 years ago. But — in it all, as is often so true, there are two basic choices: (1) grow or (2) stagnate. The second is completely undesirable to me. Every second of every minute of every day that goes by is time in which to allocate not entire actions in themselves, but just as letters form words form sentences form paragraphs form chapters of a book, so it shall be with the notes, and the spaces between those sounds, played on a piano. The first instrument I learned how to play, and the one, through all of these years, that remains closest to me.

Sometimes, I find it very hard to say — write anything — because on the one hand, I don't want to repeat myself. At yet, being so acutely self-conscious, I'm aware there are many who've never read a word of what I've had to say… yet. In this, there's a comfort of self-discovery, and rediscovery of that. Of revisiting old (some may say classic) themes and revitalizing them. Of traveling down the proverbial Memory Lane and remembering not just how fresh the grass smelled, but taking your favorite sensory experiences of that time and bringing them into now.

I started this third installment of solo piano improvisations with a rhetorical clearing of my throat. New things to say, with reminders of the past, principles that don't change through time. They may be adapted for new contexts and situations which never came up before, but ultimately, they'll be as Good, Pure, and True as they ever were. Mothers have basically been giving birth the same way for all of humankind. We haven't lost our origin from wombs. We, in our fancy garments and backpacks loaded with techno-gadgets, haven't separated ourselves from air, water, and food. We are not without love, and unfortunately, not without hate either. And in the midst of it all, we ask "What does it mean to be human?" Sadly, there are all too often times when questions are asked, but no actions are taken, so time is wasted, and… the answers never come.

I wanted to answer a number of things for myself through these compositions. I'm not even sure if I can deem them that, since they were played on the fly. Yes, I had foreknowledge of chord progressions, basic structures, and points of inspiration (a musical Newton would have as much to say about standing on the shoulders of giants here). But, I didn't know how the story would get closer to its end, and in that, I found inner rewardance in rich counterpoint, impressionistic tones, and sweeping chords and arpeggios across the 88 keys that make up a standard piano.

Unlike the last volume, solo piano 2, the piano sound here is uniform: I chose to go with one fine grand, in contrast with the antique upright that found its way into part deux — it shall return, someday! — so I could focus on varying it through actual performance, not as qualities of the timbre from the outset. For example, like grain on a nostalgic photo, the sostenuto pedal finds such a way to add that subtle-but-welcome warmth to a broad, melodic sequence of rushed triplets.

I acknowledge flaws. I realize in retrospect I mastered the mixes too loud; so at parts, there's audible distortion. Also present are mistakes I made, which I've not edited out. You may hear slipped keys which sound so wrong, if they're not placed contextually with the surrounding passages. After all, as a popular jazz adage goes, "If you make a mistake, keep repeating it and it'll be alright". Not to excuse mistakes, but are they really mistakes when we make so many in life, and learn from them to better ourselves. Maybe they are, but we shouldn't be shy of them.

And in this, there are risks. To not be afraid to be yourself — after you've been scared often, 1,000s of times, to a level at which you become numb to fear. You simply don't care about being criticized, because it bores you. You've heard every possible permutation, and in your lifelong journey of learning, what you want is feedback you can take and shape into a better you. And in recognizing that the only legitimate critic is one who seeks to uplift you, be it yourself or another, makes life a lot easier. (Performance anxiety is such a brutal thing in classical music, I grew up with it, being adjudicated at a long string of festivals and competitions.)

Now that I've been unafraid to share this with you, if you've decided to listen to these piano pieces, I wish they'll contribute positively to the actions you take, the choices you make. And think of what you may fear, then like myself, become numb to fear, and find an ambient courage that you don't have to identify or call upon — it's here with you. Music supports us in doing great things. There's music for lovemaking, music for action scenes in the cinema, and music for those moments where you need time to yourself, because life can be so busy and stressful. With the risks we must take everyday to be successful, it's no surprise the burdens can feel so overwhelming. Certainly, one of the reasons I recorded solo piano 3 was because I found that listening to my own piano playing helped to soothe me — and by far and large, most of these are mellow songs, not in a vocal, but certainly in a lyrical, melodic sense.

To recapitulate, an essential aspect of taking risks is doing new things. And since the last time, I've tuned into a number of styles, rhythms, modes which I previously hadn't explored, and fused them with what I already know — my safe anchors.

Writing of anchors, solo piano 3 is dedicated to my loving wife, Jennifer. She knows why, and this is all I need to know. I love you, Jenny.

Tagged as: Audio, General, Ideas, torleymusic