Minimal, Travel Thoughts, Refugees

I may have mentioned before that I no longer listen to music when I run. I used to. About ten years ago...maybe even eleven or twelve,  I was running the Omaha Marathon and I had an iPod loaded with songs. By then my eyesight was at the point where I needed glasses to see the display, and I didn't like to wear them while I ran. So anytime I wanted to make any adjustments, it was a struggle. And on this particular day, something was not working with the iPod and I had to stop multiple times to try and get it figured out. It was hot this day too, and sweat kept pouring all over my head and into my eyes and ears. The headphones kept falling out of my ears, and the chord was constantly bouncing about, getting in the way of my arm swing. And for some reason, the music I had loaded wasn't making me happy for whatever reason. I'd start a song and about a minute later, I wanted to forward it to the next song, but the next song didn't cut it either. I finally got so frustrated, I just ditched my mobile sound system in a bush and said "fuck it." I was left with the sound of my breathing and my feet hitting the road. It was better than any music that day, and I have not used music while running since. But that does not mean there isn't music in my head...there is. I have the ability to sing or hum a tune as I run...mostly to myself, but occasionally aloud. There was the time I was running a marathon and I must have been singing aloud and as I came up on another runner who looked around as I approached and said "do you think you could get any fucking louder?"  (OK, so that's twice now I have cursed here....so be it). Anyway, I chalked that snarky comment up to the fact that she was probably suffering as we all do during a marathon, but I must have sounded too happy. And I was cruising pretty well at that point and that added to her displeasure. So I try to keep the music in my head. Any kind of music will do, but short phrases or segments of songs or symphonies work best...and I repeat them over and over. Today, on my six mile run, it was the ending of She's So Heavy by the Beatles, from the Abbey Road album in my head. I'm talking about the five bar phrase that is repeated over and over at the end.

But then I switched to the song Opening by Philip Glass. This is from his 1981 album called Glassworks. Glass is a great composer, and this album fits into the genre often called Minimalism. A simple, short musical idea or phrase is repeated over and over, sometimes with small variations, and sometimes with out any. I got this album when it was first released and it has long been a favorite of mine, regardless if I am running or sipping a bourbon.

Erik Satie may be the Godfather of minimalism. Some of his compositions are very short or singular musical phrases that are repeated over and over. Here is one of my favorites that is a great running tune:

The rolling arpeggios create nice forward motion in my mind which then translates to my legs as I run.
I have probably used a melody line from every composer at some point on a run. Dvorak, Beethoven, Bruckner, Bach, Chopin....and on and on. That's how I do it. No headphones to mess with, no device to carry, charge or protect from the elements. Ditching the outside music that day back in Omaha was the best thing I ever did.

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I traveled to Orlando for work this week. Flying offers wonderful people watching opportunities. I try to keep a positive attitude while observing my fellow humans, but let me get some of the negatives out first. Sick people. I was stuck next to a family with two small children on the flight down. The girl must have been 5-6 years old, and she coughed and hacked and wheezed the entire flight. The dude in front of me also was clearly sick and could not stop coughing and sneezing. I understand that we have places to go and things to do. Most of us go about our lives even if we have a cold or some respiratory infection. But when you are trapped in an aluminum tube with crappy air, your germs have a field day I think infecting others. It's no wonder we have epidemics.
People talk on their phones at the top of their lungs, sharing their shitty conversations with everyone within 50 feet of them. The worst offender was a young lady at the Kansas City airport who was talking on speaker phone without any awareness that she was disturbing everyone around her. I looked at her and she noticed me. I kept my gaze and shook my head disapprovingly and walked away. I didn't want to be a complete douche and confront her directly, but I was pleased that I made some attempt convey what the rest of us for whom she had no concern were feeling.
Bravo once again to the Orlando airport. I had a two hour wait there and was treated to classical music the entire time on the overhead sound system. Why an airport needs to play music of any kind makes no sense to me. Most everyone else has their earbuds in listening to their own music or podcast or watching a movie or show. But I appreciated the Beethoven String Quartet and the Mendelssohn Symphony all the same...I listened. When I got to Atlanta, I was greeted with the worst "smooth jazz" mashup imaginable. It was loud and it was distracting. I love jazz, and have expressed that many times here. This was prefabricated, mindless, studio session bullshit. Your music sucks Hartsfield International.
I met an Uber diver named Abdi who was born in Somalia, and was forced to move to a refugee camp in Kenya when he was one. His family lived in the camp for years before he was allowed to come to the United States. His description of life in the refugee camp has horrifying and heart breaking. I can't imagine what it would be like not being able to live in my home country, to have to walk many miles to a different country and live in a tent without any security or protection, and lack basic needs like water, food and sanitation. He said the Kenyans did not want the Somali people to be there, and the camp guards were corrupt and violent. His father was killed. Luckily, he was granted asylum in America and came to KC with his mother, and two sisters. He now is a US Citizen, has a wife who is a nurse, and two young children. He expressed a profound sense of gratitude for the opportunity to come here and he had an infectious, positive outlook. It was very humbling for me, a person who has lived a life rich in material things, security, freedom, and an abundance of food and water.

A New Year, A New Decade...Onward. Mussorgsky. LOVE.

I started writing this online journal...or Blog...in February of 2014. I must say, I am immensely proud and satisfied with what this has become. Writing continues to be a source of pleasure and happiness for me. I wish I had more time to write. It's not always easy, and I don't always write very well....but hey, that's OK too. I don't always write about classical music either...I branch out...take journeys into other areas...history and philosophy for example. But, regardless, it is genuine, and from my heart. It is honest and authentic. It is me. Hello 2020, I am looking forward to what you have in store for me.

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In early December, I had another one of those moments when I heard a piece of music while I was in the car... I knew what the piece was...Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition (1874)...but in this case, it was the original version for piano, and I wanted to know who was playing it. Maurice Ravel orchestrated Pictures in 1922, and this is what most people know. I have talked to many people who have never even heard the piano version, and as incredible as Ravel's work is, the original work is equally stunning. On this occasion, the recording I was listening to was even more mesmerizing than any other I have heard. And of course, I arrived home before it was over, so there I sat in the garage for at least fifteen minutes, waiting for it to end so I could hear who had recorded it. The answer was Alice Sara Ott. Mussorgsky had a very tragic life. I read some letters of his that described his descent into alcoholism and eventual death that was equal parts fascinating and sad. The picture above (1881), was painted a few days before he died, and captures the red nose and vacant stare of a chronic alcoholic at death's doorstep. But in his Pictures at an Exhibition, there is so much life...breathtaking melodies, humor, fear, and triumph. Ott's recording is the best I have heard.

I stumbled upon another work of Mussorgsky this month that I had never heard...The Songs and Dances of Death for Soprano and Piano. I find these haunting and beautiful...sometimes playful and light...but mostly heavy and dark. I love them! Take a listen. I am curious what you think of them.

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My resolution this year is to talk about LOVE. Despite the sadness and grief around us....the fighting and arguing...the negativity and anger...I do believe that LOVE is the answer. I believe in God's LOVE and GRACE. But I have dear friends and family members who don't believe in God...and that's OK with me. They too have LOVE in their hearts. LOVE is LOVE. Spread it. "I LOVE you" is the best thing you can tell someone. Say it.