Welcome to Lakeland

We could not have asked for a more beautiful place to live. Tonight we took a long stroll around Lake Mirror and watched various water fowl and an alligator.

While I am really starting to enjoy the beauty of our new home, I also struggle with the emotions that go along with leaving home again and coming to a new place. The music I've been hearing on 89.7 FM WUSF has comforted me: Chopin 2nd Concerto, Weber First Clarinet Concerto, and Ravel Violin Sonata.

Murfreesboro Memories

Tomorrow, the moving truck arrives, and I'll be exchanging "Carolina Moon" for "Moon Over Miami" or at least "Luna over Lakeland." (I made that last title up). "Carolina Moon" was supposedly written on, or near, the s-shaped bridge in Hertford, NC. Hertford was the hometown of some of my ancestors. The last several years, I've been thinking of doing an Earl Wild-styled arrangement of "Carolina Moon." "Moon Over Miami" just happened to be playing as background music in the Human Resources office when I went to do paperwork at Southeastern.

I sense that my system is still a little confused about our move. Normally, when I leave my in-laws in Lake Mary, I go to Interstate 95 and drive back to NC. This time, I'll get on Interstate 4 and go to our place in Lakeland.

I'll miss looking at the Carolina moon through the pine trees in my back yard. I'll miss the silhouette of the water tower over the library. I'll miss walks through campus with Sophie (our beagle). I'll miss Murfreesboro's connection back to Lafayette and his time. And I'll miss long afternoon talks over iced tea with town and college friends.

I really enjoyed my three years living at 212 E. High St. in M'boro. Being there had a great mix of urban and rural that allowed me to enjoy both my Hulin and Harrison heritage. Being in an old-ish house in the region of my ancestors gave Kathy and me a sense of having lived at "the old homeplace," and has provided us with a psychological space to which I am sure we will often return as we interpret ourselves in new contexts.

There's so much newness involved in this move - new job, new church, new house, new neighborhood, new city, new state, new culture. Fortunately, lots of people have reached out to make the transition less intimidating.

We attended College Park Baptist in Orlando this morning. An inspiring report on youth missions was structured around verses of John Bell's "Will You Come and Follow Me." The depth and relevance of this text continues to reveal itself to me. The second verse, in particular, spoke powerfully to my needs today and to my belief in God's call:

Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name? . . .
Will you let me answer payer in you and you in me?

The Past

It's a well-known fact that we southerners live with a great weight on our backs known as "the past." I'm acutely aware of that seemingly inescapable burden as I sort through pictures and artifacts preparing for our move. I don't even know who some of the people are in the pictures. Perhaps I keep their pictures thinking that somehow we'll figure it out. I can't quite envision a future, however, in which I sit with all these documents and actually do figure it out.

Keeping these things has something to do with an imagined future in which these items define me and add more to my life than they do now. But I don't think that keeping all of this will bring that about in any significant way. The mystery is part of the heritage, anyhow.

I am starting to think it would be a great relief to live lighter and to only keep that which is necessary for telling our story.

Also, much of this material stuff is really about someone else's life. I think of the phrase "let the dead bury their dead." Maybe we haul the dead around for too long and don't get around to living our lives fully. Maybe we do that in music, too. I'm not totally sure what that means.

Maybe I'm just tired of packing!

Hymn Society - Birmingham 2010

We had a great week at Samford with old and new Hymn Society friends. This week, I was most impressed by the good ecumenical experience that these meetings provide. Every time, I come home more aware and more interested in other believers and their heritage.

I put together my own little American music conference by choosing particular small sessions to attend. Several dealt with African-American hymn traditions including the work of Tindley (a composing pastor who served a mega-church in the early 20th century), research into the second oldest African-American hymnal (presented by a distant cousin of mine, Dick Hulan!), and a session on several female African-American hymn writers. In this last session, I learned Margaret Douroux's beaatifully moving "Give Me a Clean Heart." We also enjoyed an evening of shaped-note singing, a hymn festival led by James Abbington and dedicated to the music of "the unknown bards" who wrote the spirituals (the quoted phrase comes from James Weldon Johnson's poem about those spiritual composers), and evening prayer led joyfully by our friends Stefan Waligur and Kaaren Lynn Ray. These evening prayer times featured bagpipes and took place in Hodges Chapel, which is by far the most ornate worship space I have seen in a Baptist community. Click here for a virtual tour.

The personal lessons of the week for me highlighted two of my on-going themes: the deep meaning and significance of community and the importance of thinking for one's self.

The most emotional moment of the meeting was singing "We Shall Overcome" hand-in-hand with my fellow musicians and realizing the endurance, peace-mindedness, and heroism of the many great civil rights workers whose names and deeds I need to celebrate more.

Nearing the End in Ahoskie

Sunday was a meaningful day for me in worship in Ahoskie. Kathy and I have two more Sundays with First Baptist, I believe, so I'm reflecting more and more on the meaning of our three years in this community and on the culmination of our work and learning here.

The service started with "God of Our Fathers" utilizing the recently expanded capabilities of our pipe organ. As I was pushing buttons and making enormous sounds, it occurred to me that I was operating one of the most powerful machines that an individual can operate in our vicinity - at least a very big musical machine. Normally, power like that doesn't mean much to me, but the freshness of the sound on this occasion invited me to think of God's power in a way that moved and instructed me.

When I first started playing for worship in Ahoskie, I was feeling the importance of imaging contemplation and gentleness through the way I played in most of our services. I was also trying to make sure the voices of the congregation were supported but not overwhelmed and that the people never felt oppressed by the sounds of the organ. These ideas are still at the core of my approach and personality, but on Sunday, I also felt comfortable with the way power was expressed through the musical rendering.

Why? The text of "God of Our Fathers" eventually focuses on Heaven and the resolution of our earthly conflicts. It lends itself to what I like to picture: the slain lamb returning in such glory that all our attempts at having power are simply irrelevant. I wonder if God's laughing at us, as is sometimes described in the Psalms, is not so much that we are in derision but that we're just funny in our self-importance.

It seems to me that it is not enough to stress God's power, because power alone is not what we believe to be God's essence. God's power is coupled with a willingness to become infinitesimal and totally vulnerable, and to sacrifice self. I can see more of the unique quality of the God of Christianity in this combination of unimaginable power and willingness to become tiny. The Trinity helps me hold all these aspects together in a single deity.

In addition, God's power must transcend all earthly power to an astronomical proportion. An earthly expression of power must be like a cut-out paper doll compared to the reality of the universal God. At the same time, I wonder if the true lowliness of Jesus also dramatically transcends all our human efforts at humility and service.

During Sunday's service, I played "Jesu, Jesu" as offertory, and I played it as expression of tenderness and intimacy. I sensed that I needed to do so to connect back to the grandeur of "God of Our Fathers" so that, all added up, we provided a fuller, truer picture of God's way with us.

The approach to playing for worship services that I have been developing in Ahoskie became crystal clear to me at that time: there need to be a variety of expressions in worship that are combined meaningfully to best convey a sense of the unique character of God. Transcendence is a profoundly stirring part of that unique character to my way of thinking. After considering God's utter transcendence in both powerfulness and powerlessness, I felt as though I had worshiped more thoroughly in spirit and truth than I usually do.

American Masterpiece May

This May, we were able to hear two American masterpieces for our first time in person, and one of them twice:Porgy and Bess, then Bernstein's Mass, then Porgy and Bess again!

As I watch the Virginia Opera's production of Gershwin, I was struck by the fact that the opera is about a community, and a community of faith in particular, as it grapples with its own demons and those of the greater world.

I was also excited by the tremendous spectrum of musical styles that Gershwin combines into a sensible whole and by the many ways of sounding American in the realm of concert music that it seems like he established with this opera.

Glenn Winters, the superb outreach lecturer who works for Virginia Opera, made a connection for those of us who heard his lecture that I had never considered. When Gershwin is going for a sweeping lyrical romantic moment, his melodic style resonates with that of Tchaikowsky and other Russian greats as he reaches back into his own family's heritage (his parents having come to the U.S. from Russia).

Bernstein's work was technically exciting and had many moving moments for me, as well. After a while, though, there was a certain unconvincing whiny-ness about it that seemed to belabor the point for me. But maybe that's the real point. Maybe Bernstein was trying to provide a big group therapy session for America about our relationship with God. The work makes good sense when viewed in relationship to the progression of his symphonies, each of which can be viewed as dealing with conflicts of modern religion on at least the national scale.

A great thing about the work for me is the return of the priest, of God, when the people realize they want him. The fact that it is the child that reaches out to him and brings him back makes it even more poignant.

This pivotal role of a child at the end, as well as the priest's breakdown and troubled relationship with the people makes me think of similar aspects in Mendelssohn's Elijah.

More on Energy

I'm editing or adding to what I wrote in my last post about energy flow in performance. While I think there's definitely some truth to what I wrote, maybe the sense of fatigue that sometimes comes after performance is a sign, at times, that the performer has crossed the bounds of the style of a work and the taste appropriate for performing it. "Style and taste" might sound superficial, but they really aren't if they are a reflection of the articulation of the flow of energy that is essential to the music.

Chopin, Energy

This year marks the bicentennial of Chopin's birth. I've been commemorating this a bit by listening to some Chopin and reading Alan Walker's excellent speech about Chopin that was recently printed in the MTNA's journal. In the speech, he puts much of the well-known information and anecdotes about Chopin's life in a broader context and provides his own insights into the importance of Chopin's achievements.

In reading, I was reminded of Chopin's often-referenced idea that a pianist need not work for the equalization of his or her fingers at the keyboard but that we should explore and use the individual strengths and qualities of our fingers as though they were the varied voices of a choir. I don't think this means Chopin would have played unevenly, and it is clear that he had his own idiosyncratic approach to fingering choices. As I ponder the implications of his statement at the piano, it occurs to me that embracing something like his approach without losing the evenness of our playing may mean adjusting our overall sound concept at times so that the stronger fingers find a way to fit with the weak.

On a different topic, I've been contemplating music as involving the flow of energy. As we play, we ride the energy or at least try not to impede its flow. This is another way of saying that we look to play the longest line we can hear. Sometimes being sensitized to this flow of energy and managing it may really take something out of us in terms of concentration and personal investment. On the other hand, it seems like listening to music ought to give us energy as we receive that flow. It's probably really worthwhile for those of us who perform music to differentiate between the experiences of performing and listening and to prepare ourselves for each activity specifically.

Omni-

One of the really nice things about the rhythm of the academic life is that it provides the possibility of a little time to study and to be refreshed in one's thinking and discipline during the summer.

I've been reading a few different things this May and June, some of which involve theology, and it occurred to me for the first time this morning that in English we have fancy, sort-of-technical terms for God being all-powerful, present everywhere, and knowing everything (omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient). I wonder why we don't use similar words to emphasize that God created everything, is all-loving, all-serving, all-sustaining, entirely holy, infinity suffering, and willing to forgive all of us.

Music in Afghanistan

I'm proud of my friend Lara's journalistic work that you can see here.

Watoto Choir

Here's a great organization that's using music to address one of the most horrific problems of our time. We heard them in Ahoskie earlier this year and were touched by their energy, discipline, joy, and hope.

Holy Week Thoughts

I've been listening to George Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." It's a touching song that becomes profoundly moving when you imagine the words being God's words to you or to the entire human race. I have linked to a version in which the words are very clear and there are few instruments - good for meditation. If you want to use it that way, I recommend listening several times to let the ideas sink in as a message for you. Also, I'd ignore the images that are provided at the link.

I'm also wondering about the title "King of the Jews" that is often associated with Jesus. I think we sometimes assume that is an appropriate title for him, but I can't recall a time in scripture when he uses the title himself or approves it. Early in Matthew, others are looking for the one that is "born the King of the Jews," and towards the end of all the gospels, Pilate asks if he is the King of the Jews, to which Jesus responds, "You say so."

Finally, I'm thinking back to death of Pope John Paul II which was close to this time five years ago. It seems like it's been a longer time than that. That was a sad Easter. Reading a blogpost from that time takes me back to what that was like.

Chowan Pianofest 2010

This weekend was our third Pianofest here at Chowan and it fulfilled my hopes, as well as surprising me a bit.

The primary purposes of Pianofest, as I see them, are to refresh our enthusiasm here about pianistic work and to inspire us. Hopefully, the various events being open to the public also results in a general growth of interest in the art of piano-playing.

Our first concert involved my colleague, Paula Pressnell, playing the four impromptus of Schubert's Op. 90 in order. Between nos. 1 and 2, Mark Puckett played Chopin's preludes in e, b, D flat, and g. Between nos. 3 and 4, Josiah Antill played Liszt's B Minor Ballade. Mark, Josiah, and I experimented with designing powerpoint shows to enhance the audience experience of these pieces. Mark's show started with a few sentences about the context in which Chopin composed his pieces, followed by images inspired by the pianist von Bulow's poetic titles for those four preludes: Suffocation, Tolling Bells, Raindrop, and Impatience. Josiah's powerpoint presented the association of Liszt's piece with Byron's "The Prisoner of Chillon" and the subsequent slides led us through the phases of the poem as we listened to the piece.

We learned from this concert that Mrs. Pressnell is a particularly good Schubert player and that Schubert sounds especially good on the Grotrian. The first impromptu put us in just the right mood to experience the unique phenomena known as the classical piano recital.

While I'm interested in innovation and feel it is my responsibility to provide my students some introduction to basic skills in a variety of styles, it was good to be reminded that the piano recital is its own unique art form and was perfected some years ago in Europe. The piano recital can be, and often is, an experience of reflection, bordering on the sacred. It creates a container or clears a space for contemplating great Western and human values: the work of the mind and the soul, the the experience of longing, and the search for peace. Again, Paula's playing, as well as the student's powerpoints and pianistic efforts, directed us to such beautiful and lofty ruminations. And I don't think I'm just describing my experience as the sense of calm and engagement was palpable in the hall throughout the concert.

Special thanks to Terrell Batten for the great work with the spotlight, in particular at the close of the concert when he noticed that there was no other light left for Mrs. Pressnell's final bow and quickly remedied the problem!

I played our second concert, which was a concert built around the sixth Beatitude of Jesus: Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. I chose various works to express the idea of purity through musical means from a pure experience of the sound of the instrument in Jahn Adams's "China Gates" to the pure quality of the transcription of Bach's Chaconne (originally for violin) for piano, left hand alone, by Brahms. I also played Haydn's Sonata No. 48, which took me back to my childhood, and managed to play it without mishap. (It was the first piece I had a memory slip in on my first solo recital around 25 years ago!)

The main message I got from preparing and performing this recital was to strive for musical purity in my work. By that I mean to keep my feet planted on the earth and to focus a little more on musical fundamentals like knowing the mood that is to be created, establishing and maintaining a tempo, analyze and plan to highlight the relationships of tones melodically and harmonically (phrasing and balance). . . If I want to add in something more imaginative or creative, it's probably safest to think of it in just those terms - something added into the basic work of musicianship, not something to completely and instantaneously transform my approach.

Along these same lines, as I worked on the Chaconne and looked for a convincing way to pace and inflect the music, my faith, which I sometimes practice, was affirmed - the answer was in the score. For me, the slur and phrase markings were a major key to interpreting this work. The breakthrough came when I started to think of them more like bowings. The longer the marking, the more energy went into the line and the less energy went into the individual notes. The shorter the marking, the less energy went into the line, and more energy into the individual notes.

Thank you, Taylor Yandell, for the photos of my first performance of the Chaconne.

I concluded the evening with Gottschalk's Berceuse. This piece is based on a song he wrote in which a mother sings to her baby while the father is away. I assume the father is away fighting in the Civil War. I had been wondering how the low bass octaves figured into this scene, and I had been trying to keep them in the background. During the concert, I realized that they might be thought of as the distant rumbling of the cannons of war.

On Saturday, I held a masterclass that was attended by a diverse audience including music majors, music appreciation students, several students from a studio in the next town, and a few interested folks from the community. I like teaching before an audience like this as it gives people who are not musicians some insight into the discipline of music. The young students played well, and it's always inspiring to hear the results of the hard work that developing pianists are doing.

Fulfillment

Last Wednesday, I went to church to practice organ. When I sit down in the choir loft to put on my organ shoes, I am always reminded to pray, even if I have not been praying much lately. I think it has something to do with the nature of the sanctuary, my role in shaping worship there, and my relationship with that house of worship.

On this particular occasion, I also thought of the fact that I've been playing piano for over thirty years now. It's odd to be old enough to have been doing something for over thirty years. Everyone who has been there must know that. But it can also be good.

It dawned on me that the deepening sense of fulfillment I get from musical work has something to do with the fact that I had many early childhood experiences with music. It seems to me that our early exposure must be a major factor in developing our potential for personal fulfillment. It would be hard to find a much better argument for a diverse education for the young.

January 2010

We've been enjoying a beautiful and much-needed, snow-induced sabbath these last few days. There are at least four inches, and some places, seven inches of snow in our region, plus layers of ice. It's a quiet time and great for eating homemade muffins and drinking coffee.

Last weekend I played two recitals with my good friend Jeremy McEntire at University of Richmond and Randolph Macon. I hadn't played at Randolph Macon before and enjoyed St. Anne's Hall, which is a small timbered church building with a nicely responsive Steinway and a warm acoustic.

One of the works we played was Rachmaninoff's Vocalise. I've played the piece many times with various instruments and voice. I always wonder at its falling lines, especially the long descent at the beginning. This aspect of falling is one of the things about Russian music that has mystified and depressed me by turns.

One of the lectionary passages for the day was Psalm 130 which begins, "Out of the depths I cry to thee, O thou Eternal." As I thought about that reading and Vocalise, I thought of a new way to understand those falling lines. I can hear them not as our sinking down but Christ's coming to be with us in the depths of our human experience. This removes the desolation and replaces it with hope, strength, and empathy.

What Music Can Do

Christmas Eve is one of the days of the year that feels sacred to me. It is a deep day that resonates with other Christmas Eves in other years and brings thoughts of both the spiritual meaning of the day and memories of the friends with whom I've spent it.

Today I find myself contemplating my blessings - friends near and far, family, work, home, the town where we live, and of course, music.

Several of this semesters's musical events have fed my soul and given me reasons for living. The first was Jim Guthrie's organ recital. To hear Jim playing so well and providing an afternoon of Frescobaldi made me feel like we really are holding up our end of the culture and that friends here are committed to the work of the arts that the world needs done. Jim played this music in such a way that even the casual listener could hear the various lines and their courses. And by playing this recital, he made myself and others personally aware of the greatness of Frescobaldi. The music has a sacred discursiveness about it. Its wanderings are like those of a soul in contemplation. Sometimes, tiny pipe sounds drew us up into a sense of some heavenly recess. There was always a sense of leading toward resolution, but it often came from somewhere other than where I expected, often culminating somewhere away from tonic. It was music full of thoughtful and unexpected harmonies that showed that lines can go many places. The experience refreshed my commitment to the art of music and its importance, as well as to my work here at Chowan.

The second invigorating event of the semester was the preparation for Handel's Messiah. Many of us at school and in the community were involved with rehearsals for this masterwork. Dr. Parker preached the texts of the work in these rehearsals, and we labored together as if we were trying to pull some great ship out into deep water so it could sail. The sense of being part of that huge process, of living life along that big trajectory along with many others, gave the semester shape and meaning. It was wonderful to be sharing this task with people of various age groups, races, and economic classes. And it was all done for the sake of the musical work and for its effectiveness when shared with the audience. I dare say that the world would be a better place if more people had something like this experience in their lives.

Finally, I think of how music can draw us into worhip. The Russian Christmas concert in Lasker was full of music that transported the listeners to other lands and sacred scenes. I look forward to tonight's Christmas Eve service which should do the same.

May our new year be full of more music that brings joy, peace, and meaning!

Christmas Images

Lo How a Rose E'er Blooming -

beautiful roses blooming in our yard on December first.

New use for a piano -

storage of musical Christmas ornaments at the Smithfield Christmas Store.

For Lasker Christmas pictures with music click here.

Christmas at Chowan 2009

Tonight was this year's Christmas at Chowan concert. It came just as we had our first noticeble frost and a little bit of ice.

I played Lyapunov's "Procession of the Magi." As I trudged home through the cold between the rehearsal and the performance, I thought about the inexorable quality of this music and how Russian music has as one of its specialities the unstopable march. I first noticed this quality in a Lazar Berman performance of one of Rachmaninoff's Moment-Musicaux.

As I played the piece during the concert, I felt a little like there were people present who weren't interested in this music. They may just be because of the unfocused feeling I get when participating in a variety show type of concert like this one. Or maybe it is because the music unfolds slowly and I become anxious that the listeners are losing interest. Whatever the reason, these sorts of thoughts are distracting and do not help me play well!

Maybe the slowness with which the music unfolds gives it the inexorable quality. As always, the music is to be trusted and the musician shouldn't worry about the audience's instant gratification if that isn't the way the music is designed.

Later on the program, I played several pieces from Rebikov's The Christmas Presents. That playing experience was better for me. The audience seemed focused with me and I realized how extraordinary it is for a room of 100 to 200 people to sit and listen intently to one man play a few quiet notes an a piano.

Excellent Song

This morning, we sang the classic praise and worship song "As the Deer" by Martin Nystrom based on Psalm 42. As the choir rehearsed it, I thought about what has given it its lasting appeal and its place in the canon of worship music.

And that is that it is an excellently written song. The tune does exactly what the words say, but in the best tradition of Handel, it does so without becoming silly. In fact, it's quite possible to listen to the piece over and over without being distracted by the text painting. But I think it makes the song more deeply meaningful.

The word "panteth" or "pants" is split between two quick notes that suggest the urgency of panting.

The two things longed for - "water" and "heart's desire" - are set with the longing gesture of an appogiatura. The appogiatura on "water" might also be heard as part of a wave that encompasses the words "for the water so my."

Next, perhaps the most important word in the line - the real topic of the song - "soul" - appears on the highest note of the phrase.

The following phrase ends "and I long to worship you." Here, the music bows down with the words.

In the third phrase, one note insistently repeated perfectly sets the words "You alone."

Then, at "spirit yield" the music also yields before it turns back to the tune and tonality of the first phrase.

Fall Break Review, Part II

On Saturday, I played for a wedding at Connaritsa Baptist Church. This was a lovely autumn wedding with flowers in fall colors and bride's maids in red dresses. It was also a fun experience because of the historic nature of the church being the fourth oldest Baptist congregation in our region.



The instrument at Connaritsa is an older spinet, and as I played it, I was reminded of one of my basic beliefs about making music - a belief that I think is really important, but not always so easy to live with. And that is that making music is about cooperation, not competition or domination.

When confronted with a smaller and limited instrument, my gut reaction is to force it to bend to my will. The result of that approach is usually somewhat tortured. The instrument strains and groans, and little joy is expressed. More beauty comes when I relax and look for what the instrument can do well. This may mean sharing my vision with a decent, musical, mid-ranged dynamic and not striving for grand effects at either extreme of the dynamic scale. I think the result is better music and maybe better being human.

On Thursday night, Ms. Pressnell and I gave our first faculty two-piano recital on the two Baldwin concert grands in Daniel Recital Hall. While the older of the two instruments has some problems on its own, it makes a very good partner for the newer Baldwin.



The concert was great fun to play, and we were both relaxed and focused on good piano playing much of the time. We played a chaconne on Dido's Lament by Purcell. It happens to be Purcell's 350th birthday this year. I thought a bit about the recent earthquake victims in the South Pacific as I got ready to play this lament. Next was the first movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony then the second movement on Shostakovich's Second Piano Concerto. We concluded the first half with an arrangement of Hava Nagilah, which is about the happiest-sounding piece of music you're likely to find in a minor key.

The second half consisted of Saint-Seans Danse Macabre (which was the last thing we added to the program and turned out to be both our favorite and the crowd's favorite), three hymn arrangements by Nielson and Young - Come Thou Fount, When I Survey, and the Doxology tune - and several movements from Zwillich's Peanuts Gallery. We played a simple arrangement of Shenandoah for an encore.

One very specific comment I recieved a day or so after the concert was about the way I played the very last note of Shenandoah - living proof of the saying "God is in the details."

Last Sunday, I played a concert of parlor music for the Perquimans County Restoration Association. You can read about that here.

And now I'm reflecting all the way back to our season-opening faculty gala. That was my first solo playing on the Grotrian - Brahms: Op. 116, Nos. 1,2 and 3. I like the idea of the entire year of concerts here at Chowan (or at least my part in them) being one large work, and I hope our faithful audience members will connect the Brahms of the Gala Concert with the First Sonata which I plan to play during Pianofest in February.

That night was also my first bit of chamber music with the new piano. Dr. Parker sang several of Vaughan Williams's Vagabond Songs. The piano's capabilities were especially moving in that situation as it makes many many gradations of mezzo piano and softer possible. Also, its tone never competes with the timbre of the voice. Finally, it's possible to make much of the text-painting sound literally like the words and ideas being illustrated on this instrument! It's clearly a superbly-suited instrument on which to play songs of such high calibre with a fine and sensitive artist like Dr. Parker.