Our classical music collection is in a small, curious corner of the Stereo Stories library.
As a teenager, I harboured completely delusional fantasies about becoming a classical musician. I mean. Completely. Delusional
The keyboard sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti (1685–1757), and a poem I wrote about them, have a close connection to my favourite rental place, an historic mansion in Newtown, Geelong.
Three years ago, John Malins flipped the Stereo Stories concept a little by writing about a song he had never heard: The Sun God, written by William G James and Aubrey De Vere.
The great writer would have been impressed. He was the subject of all discussion, around which everything circled.
LACRIMOSA from the REQUIEM MASS in D MINOR (K. 626) by WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART. Text by Kevin Densley
I have a vivid memory from that time of watching this wonderful film near the end of its run in Mid-City’s main cinema, which seated close to a thousand people, with only a couple of others in attendance.
Tchaikovsky: Serenade for Strings in C, Op. 48 – III. Elégie: Larghetto elegiaco. Poem by Stephen Andrew
Staring at nothing/But sleep’s petulant absence./Most nights were like this/Toward the end.
It’s like seeing a tapestry in the dark – there’s beauty, but there’s also a great deal of uncertainty. And I didn’t know which thread I was supposed to embody.
The music conjures images of a new person. A person who can smile, laugh, interact.
The love of any form of art is always a subjective thing. What is cool is an art form that can take you to a new level of appreciation of another art form.