Tuck in your shirt-tails, flapping free in the great heat since May month. A few degrees cooler is no bad things; it enables me to think tones again, slap down a motif, a chord, even a rhythmic idea. Thel ake keeps its warmth, an immense mass of volcanic water ( arsenic ? sulpher ? ).
So all in all, there´s new movement. You sleep better, visualize a theme. ” Pre-composition” , I suppose. Water lapping Yeatsian; the countryside Keatsian. Fair enough for September nectarines and kiwis and peaches and “fragolini” grapes. Yummie!
If music is also metaphor, is September music in any sense the harvest home?
NOW SEPTEMBER WILL TRY TO DIE
Posted under: General