147: The Falco intensifies

It’s so strange that one of the most meaningful decisions in my undergraduate career is yet to come. I am faced with a modest dilemma about the Music 41A final recital. It’s a little less than two weeks out (May 1); we must commit to our individual pieces in about a week’s time. I have studied very little this semester (of course), having only two bits from Barnes’ first serenade to add to my repertoire. These are the Milonga and the Barcarolle. (We ignore the silly Bach chorale I arranged.)

Felix has been learning the first serenade in its entirety since day one; he has focused his practice around the same pieces plus the Sicilienne. Anders has been eyeing the Sicilienne for himself, too. If I decided to be selfish, one of them will almost certainly be thrown under the bus. I.E., if I claim the Barcarolle,

  1. Either Felix takes the Milonga and not the preferable Sicilienne, which goes to Anders,
  2. Or Felix takes the Sicilienne and Anders loses out on his dream piece that haunted him first when he listened to the carillon.

After dessert at McDonald’s

I let myself into the Campanile and locked myself into the Verdin Room (someone had the library keyboard). The tower had freshly struck eight. After about half an hour of practice, I heard the sound of the outer library door closing (but my earplugs deafened any feet on the staircase). I nosed around the library; nobody was in. I helped myself to the keyboard. From there it was another solid hour of practice, homing in carefully on the weaker parts of the Barcarolle (mostly the pedalling in the first part!). It’s worrisome that I can’t hit 100% accuracy on such a slow-moving pedal part. At least the Vanden Gheyn had its fast parts to shield me from criticism.

Actually, directly after dessert

I went to the observation deck first, partially to test the elevator and partially to watch the beautiful sunset alone. I spied the dome atop Campbell Hall for what it was (a bona fide telescope); I saw the Big C, still fluorescently outstanding in the fading light. I pulled out my phone and put on Zimerman playing Chopin’s third ballade. At the close, I lay down my phone and wallet. After a moment’s thought, I also lay the tower key on the ground. I absolutely did not need to see it hurling out of my pocket over the lip of the observation deck.

I turned two cartwheels on the west end of the observation deck – first in a southerly direction, then northerly. On the latter turn my foot clipped the far pillar (second furthest northwest, I believe), reminding me that there wasn’t much room for these physical shenanigans. I pocketed my things and returned to the first floor.

I have done two things that few people have ever done (or will probably ever do) atop Sather Tower – listen to Chopin’s third ballade and turn a cartwheel, both in the sunset. I find that the experience is totally unremarkable.

J39M

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s