Matthew Van Brink, composer, pianist accordionist

Life as a Cup of Tea

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 15:05:16 -0500

Two passages from Okakura Kakuzo's The Book of Tea Online version The outsider may indeed wonder at this seeming much ado about nothing. What a tempest in a tea-cup! he will say. But when we consider how small after all the cup of human enjoyment is, how soon overflowed with tears, how easily drained to the dregs in our quenchless thirst for infinity, we shall not blame ourselves for making so much of the tea-cup. Mankind has done worse. In the worship of Bacchus, we have sacrificed too freely; and we have even transfigured the gory image of Mars. Why not consecrate ourselves to the queen of the Camelias, and revel in the warm stream of sympathy that flows from her altar? In the liquid amber within the ivory-porcelain, the initiated may touch the sweet reticence of Confucious, the piquancy of Laotse, and the ethereal aroma of Sakyamuni himself.

Words on Words at Essentially Choral

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 11:56:04 -0500

... blogging for NewMusicBox from VocalEssence's Essentially Choral New Music readings. 1, 2, & 3.

Roger Angell on the Yankee Stadium Organist, circa 1985

Sun, 25 May 2008 14:13:19 -0500

Roger Angell, writing in Fall 1985 Season Ticket, Houghton-Mifflin, 1988, p251-252

If there is an impatient or aggrieved sound to these remarks, it is not directed at the Yankee players, whom I mostly admire and wish well. I would like to root wholeheartedly for the Yankees one of these days, but somebody is always jumping up and spoiling the view – the owner, the manager, some of the fans. The resonance of the game up at the Stadium has gone sour, and often comes across as being ill-tempered, distracted, patronizing, and frantically concerned with winning. That tone is perfectly represented by the Stadium organ music – if that is the right word for the puerile and infuriated assault of noises, nudges, and schlocky musical references with which the management (it must be a management decision, after all) attempts to cajole the players, bait the visitors, and whip up the helpless captive masses in the stands. The mighty electronic wurstmaker is scarcely silent for the duration of a foul tip, it seems, and its mindless and almost ceaseless commentary abrades the fabric of the game and the soul of the watching fan. This year, forcing myself actually to listen to the thing for once, I tried to pick out the main phrasings and modulations of a mid-inning concerto furioso:
Organ: "Buh da-da-da-da! Buh da-da-da-da! Buh da-da!buh da-da- da-da- da-da!" (theme from "Gaîte Parisienne," here repeated in mad up-tempo.) Pause. "Tah-tah-tah-tahhh!" (Beethoven's Fifth, opening theme.) Pause.