“The x could have beenanything at all, the sound of wind chimes,a gong, a choir, a cantor, a mermaid, a schoolman,cathedral bells…“–from “Variable” which appears in the Winter 2016 issue (Volume 57, Issue 4). Tell us about one of the first pieces you’ve writtenIn general, it takes me ages to write a . . .
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“The mouse pup moves in anguish but its screams are ultrasonic, heard only by its mother. The fingers and toes are clearly defined–each one finishing in a delicate nail. Round, black eyeballs are visible underneath translucent eyelids: it’s a miniature alien nestling in the palm of her hand. Ziggy drops the pup . . .
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“Fantaisie Impromptu. That’s Chopin, of course. The record–held in a pink sleeve (or it should be pink)–was a pirated copy: ten yuan apiece, or nine if you buy more. It wasn’t mine though. It was lent to me by a high-school classmate of my classmate from primary school. They were attending an all-girls . . .
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“LISTEN: MUSIC IS BORN from the human mind, but it also appears naturally, like the smell of malt, like the taste of celery. Humans desperately try to precent it from slipping through their fingers. They fasten it to the score, to instruments, to commentaries, to theory books, to records…”–from Perfect Pitch which appears in . . .
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“Fingertips ready at the page tipwith the vigilance of a physician.An executor of Chopin herself,she knows the crests and tidesof the Revolutionary:“—from “The Page Turner” which appears in the Winter 2016 issue (Volume 57, Issue 4). Tell us about one of the first pieces you’ve written One of the first poems I ever wrote was . . .
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“He’s a sage, a musical holy man, the friend who consoles us when love falters or when we take the wrong path. He’s got a movement behind him, but he’s miles from any phony ideology. He’s simple, transparent, honest, a rebel…” —from Caetano Veloso, Walking into the Wind, nonfiction by Igiaba Scego, translated by Frederika . . .
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“From the drummer, take the cymbals, the crash, and hi-hatand walk like you’re shining. From the composer take “waterunder snow is wear,” sung by young voices in the timbreof wind blowing through the antlers of reindeer…”–from “What to Take” which appears in the Winter 2016 issue (Volume 57, Issue 4). Tell us . . .
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“Song is of a squeaky quality, with little or no repetition.It is a poor imitator.Song is a series of evry high, thin, separate, slurred notes.Call is slurred chewink.Song, drink-your-tea…”–from “Bird Song” which appears in the Winter 2016 issue (Volume 57, Issue 4). Tell us about one of the first pieces you’ve written When I . . .
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“The same week his father died, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart conducted a funeral for a starling he had purchased three years ealier in Vienna. Guests at the service wore solemn attire, and Mozart, then thirty-one, eulogized his pet as “not haughty, quite, but gay and bright.” “My heart,” he said, “aches when I . . .
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“Rhythm is the seed, the littlebody we planted in fear of the dark that rose to adornand outlive us. It crawled…” –from “Found Music” which appears in the Winter 2016 issue (Volume 57, Issue 4). Tell us about one of the first pieces you’ve written I was fortunate to have two teachers . . .
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