iPad, is a tablet/slate PC that comes with, of course, iTunes music. I've got pieces of music, works of Ravel, the French composer Maurice Ravel, piano works, duet. This is a lovely -- intricately fine piece of music. It reminds me of a sunny winter day, when the light just fills the space that is deliberately secured for purposes there, in calming silence. The music is ever so light just as the splash of water in the water fountains reflecting winter sunshine. The flows of the melody consists of each note ever so clear and delicate, never go to the extreme ends, telling you -- be aware, be aware always, with subtle gesture that assures you still of human reasons.
Buying the music is ever so easy with online account, it is just clicks away as they say. I happened to have found this piece of music from the music library online called Naxos. The music library is full of CD's available for listening online. Luckily, this CD is in the iTunes music store -- some of them are not. iTunes sells the music by movements. That is, for this one, it cost $0.99 for each movement out of say, the four movements of Rapsodie espagnole. The whole CD cost $9.99.
The splendor of Ravel's works, the width and depth of the music, just expands ever in front of you, yet never goes too far, it turns back and softly returns to you with trills and harmony. The trills, just before going into the melody line, lands right on where they are needed. Then comes the codes, the harmony, moving to glorious conclusions of his -- of human beings, the way he was, the way they lived, lived in such a way, to tell us what they are.
Music, is a miracle, in how it appeals to our senses rather directly. By the timing of it, how the codes go, how it changes the tune, I simply can not agree more on what it is saying. When it ponders on, then move on to another thoughts, how it is expanding to wider and wilder, the pleasure of it, how supreme the expectations are, pains, sorrows, uneasiness, consolations, excitements, agitation, how it questions to self rather, with warnings, tragic at times, ever so light a tone that falls from above, the same theme came back again with enlightenment, its inconsolable sadness, then the conclusion, just as always, with glory. How singularly perfect it is, the notes are just there, waiting, the existence of it.
Just by sounding the notes so sharp, by going on to the next theme, a few notes, is ample enough for its utmost joy, this intoxicating sounds of it -- with utterly private, schemes -- understanding of human nature. I have this music, this music, the fact that I have this music now, is the miracle.
The notes, are not something you can hold on, have them within your hands, they slip away, left only with the fragments of them of their splendor. How he understands perfectly of music, how intricate it is made, how they play the piece -- it is just there, just the existence of it, for the music, for the art. The sounds of it -- giving it to me -- the melody that plays up there then goes down, the codes down there, the perfect codes of it, the melody of it. When it puts emphasis on the notes, in the way it insists upon the points, with the reasoning and just the eyes looking at, wondering and questioning -- this is -- what I want to say, in the way that I prefer.
"Introduction et Allegro" was written before the war.
Buying the music is ever so easy with online account, it is just clicks away as they say. I happened to have found this piece of music from the music library online called Naxos. The music library is full of CD's available for listening online. Luckily, this CD is in the iTunes music store -- some of them are not. iTunes sells the music by movements. That is, for this one, it cost $0.99 for each movement out of say, the four movements of Rapsodie espagnole. The whole CD cost $9.99.
The splendor of Ravel's works, the width and depth of the music, just expands ever in front of you, yet never goes too far, it turns back and softly returns to you with trills and harmony. The trills, just before going into the melody line, lands right on where they are needed. Then comes the codes, the harmony, moving to glorious conclusions of his -- of human beings, the way he was, the way they lived, lived in such a way, to tell us what they are.
Music, is a miracle, in how it appeals to our senses rather directly. By the timing of it, how the codes go, how it changes the tune, I simply can not agree more on what it is saying. When it ponders on, then move on to another thoughts, how it is expanding to wider and wilder, the pleasure of it, how supreme the expectations are, pains, sorrows, uneasiness, consolations, excitements, agitation, how it questions to self rather, with warnings, tragic at times, ever so light a tone that falls from above, the same theme came back again with enlightenment, its inconsolable sadness, then the conclusion, just as always, with glory. How singularly perfect it is, the notes are just there, waiting, the existence of it.
Just by sounding the notes so sharp, by going on to the next theme, a few notes, is ample enough for its utmost joy, this intoxicating sounds of it -- with utterly private, schemes -- understanding of human nature. I have this music, this music, the fact that I have this music now, is the miracle.
The notes, are not something you can hold on, have them within your hands, they slip away, left only with the fragments of them of their splendor. How he understands perfectly of music, how intricate it is made, how they play the piece -- it is just there, just the existence of it, for the music, for the art. The sounds of it -- giving it to me -- the melody that plays up there then goes down, the codes down there, the perfect codes of it, the melody of it. When it puts emphasis on the notes, in the way it insists upon the points, with the reasoning and just the eyes looking at, wondering and questioning -- this is -- what I want to say, in the way that I prefer.
"Introduction et Allegro" was written before the war.