German War Heroes Ww2

The sound of surprise. An endless courtship

*

Playing a song or an entire program is a account create a new musical language is all another matter. And 'the merit of this Kind of Blue.

Chick Corea

Last night one of my students asked me to talk about improvisation. I had to stop the work we were doing and put me to tell, but above all to explain. Not knowing where to start, I took the volume of the thesis of a friend of mine in Bologna, to seek help, at least at the level of concepts.

Paradox, meeting with the wonder, beauty of imperfection. The definition of improvising reduced to five conditions: inseparability, originality, impromptu, irreversibility, responsiveness.

jazz improvisation is based on a paradox: a musician who has the stage so well prepared to allow the emotion and instinct to push the technical capabilities to explore the unknown. E '"the sound of surprise" that he seeks.

Do not be seduced by the mythology of improvisation as something totally germ, which would take place in the realm of absolute freedom, without the aid of memory, a miracle of spontaneity, as we read in many texts and dictionaries on jazz. On the contrary, improvisation is conditioned by a large body of traditional materials, from exercise and experience, therefore, Sparti how it feels, "is appropriately used - as a metaphor - the German word Einbruch , raid, as suggests a landslide or avalanche, a sudden event, yes, but prepared by long time. It 's true that the decisions "taken" in the course of improvisation are immediate, but the work that is behind these decisions has a long history - hours, days, months, even years. In this sense, improvisation is the product of the experience made by the player: to what he studied, absorbed, forgotten and rejected. "

Last night I did not go well. The boys were amazed by what I was saying. Votes wanted to compare the music to life. They asked if something similar does not happen when we find ourselves faced with a woman or in the middle of a test that is imposed on us without notice. I was reminded of a lecture given by Marchionne a few years ago, he defended the idea that life gives us time. Sometimes you have to take decisions quickly and in situations that do not allow you to put off decisions. These are events that call into question radically: we have to act confident in what we bring in talent in action. We play often bigger things, life itself.

my part, I discussed the ideas of my friend and those of Sparti, Pressing his hand on the musical concept that should have, study, exercise, memory. After all, what experience, if not all of this? The ground covered and the memory of that journey. The rest comes by itself. You may say, but how heavy that "rest"! Sure. It is to return the folds of life and the wave of the time, faces and stories, intervals and pauses ...

The beauty is afterwards.

*

*

How To Connectextra Fan To Xbox 360

*

Like every human being, I have a right to those moments when I can by me ... To hear a unit that acts independently. Stig Dagerman

My brother Dario wrote me recently from Derry to know what you mean to me 'dodges life'. It 'started from the more obvious meaning to express some concern, as if I was going I to retire in a convent or other secluded place. As if I were fleeing from civilization. Topics that have been attacked by an attack of misanthropy!

I replied with a book. Yes, I sent him a book about me. Or rather, talk about that part of me that worries me: the shyness.

The publisher of the work has so Duccio Demetrio, Life dodges. The feeling of shyness and the virtues :

Shyness is not fashionable today. Being shy is often considered a disadvantage, even an illness, fear of living, an escape from the competition. The aggressiveness, get off do not belong, do not mark a man and a woman getting a little 'aside, whose withdrawal is a sign of calm and restraint. This book does not want to give advice to counter than once so intensely human. Instead is on the side of those who still blushes, and consider shyness a sensitivity to value, a plot of virtue - the ability to be quiet, be discreet ... - which translates into a more light to be alive.

Dario told me a bit 'hit, as if with my gesture would like to enhance my character, Turning to a defect in my favor, as a high value. To please him, I replied pointing out shortcomings and limitations. I have revealed my secret, I want to confess to you: the face of life I feel like a suitor who finds himself still waiting for a response. But not because I feel the edge ... from life! On the contrary, I consider myself lucky. Goethe would say, a favorite of the gods. I have, in fact, the most precious things a man could want. And I'm not going to list them, because I already did.

Rather, it must be said that my shy demeanor is my way of thanking the good received. I bow in front of the sacred things and beautiful things. I am grateful. If there seems to be clumsy and hesitant is because I think a lot before speaking, and especially before you act. Of the two brothers in talks about mythology - Prometheus and Epimetheus - I follow in the footsteps of the first, but they are fragile as the second.

How do you say are on the side of Prometheus? Are only rational and consistent action? They are bright and fair and wise and aware of me?

But on the other hand, how do you say are on the side of Epimetheus? I'm just feeling and immediacy, spontaneity and innocence?

I wanted to be "rough and simple," as our great poet Eugenio Montale, but life throws you on the scene suddenly overwhelms you, puts you in a hurry, troubles you, confuses you ...

A philosopher of the time of Nero wrote:

How much time did you dedicate yourself [...] how many people have robbed you of your life without you even noticing you of what you lost [. ..] do not ever think that we are fragile beings.

Here! There seems easier to defend its inner core by 'attacks' newspapers of stupidity and vulgarity? A poet expresses Slavic said in this regard:

What prayed with love, as something sacred that
guarded,
fate to the empty chatter human
abandoned for ridicule.

The crowd came in, the crowd stormed the shrine
within your soul,
sacrifices and mysteries and it opened
you blush in spite of yourself.

Ah, ever the wings
living soul hovering over the crowd could save her from the assault

immortal human vulgarity!

FEDOR TJUTCEV

Then, you'll understand why I have done so. Private health insurance? Introverted? Weakness of character? Suspended life? You name it.

I know, though, and I hope you will understand this, that my heart no more hesitation, if I put in the middle of a room - even empty - two maybe a little 'less shadowy than me, to make a Trio or three musicians in love, to make a quartet ...

We know that love is melt from sheets jealous of Copernicus, not the husband of Maria Ivanovna had as rival . Let, then, that we are talking to the rhythms of life that comes forward to announce the sumptuously wins the heart of a woman. For this reason, we are also willing on a cold autumn evening to give up our gloom talk to a piano.

*

Sample Loan Application

The first moment of eternity

*

The stuff of dreams not smoke or wind or breath, or even breath, gasp, sigh ... The sorrows and anxieties of the soul dreams are nourished. The things we never said never. The terrorist tried before a searching look that was on the verge to uncover secrets hidden forever. But most of all loves unmentionable, small cowardice, gestures missed, shame, sexual fantasies just suggested by the meetings of the day ...

Imagine all this, but still imagine that you have your eyes open and you are in a pub of any citizen of the March of Ancona. The lights are dimmed, because everything is about to begin. The musicians are ready, but there's an empty place in their midst. Suddenly, the lights , you are well aware that the singer approaches the microphone and shouts: "Marco Serrani the piano!"

not a dream, but the substance of a dream what is happening. Someone has given your name. He said 'piano', "the piano". There is no doubt: Marco Serrani is called the piano.

you try it for a bit ', but a moment, to invoke the gods of the referrals, but you know that you do not listen to another moment, and you find yourself thinking, but there time to think, you just have to say a yes or no . You know as well that 'in situation' is not contemplated no. And we are in a situation when there is no choice, when everything is already decided, as an order of the sky that falls on you to order the action, action ...

These are the moments before the 'eternal moment , that is when you find yourself living an unforgettable and long dreamed of. Now you're in the middle of the dream. It's up to you. Your hands will run to the keyboard, giving voice to the old leaven that stirs in you.

needed words and phrases, to write a story ... Is there anyone of you. Introduce the theme. Yours is the infinite variations. And why should be under sentence of your hands. The current that wanted to exit the heart and hands to reach the game now.

your whole being is vibrating imperceptibly, like the string that emits the sound which will have to pay a sound. Your sound. But you're the rope that now means the enchantment of the evening and the forest of memories that press and Martina and the slight sweat pearls hands and prevents unfolding of a more rested heading.

But in a moment, you stop the sweat, the silence pervades the room just waiting, the long pause before the boot is draining. You can not come back back. You are at the heart of the dream. Occupied a place that is not yours, but for one night only belongs to you. Here you are not shift workers. They just want music to you. Pure music. Sounds outrageous. There are ears that are waiting, but they are not ears, hands concave facing the roar of the water that comes to cool and refresh the thirst. Thirsty, of course. It is to bring cool and then dissolve and win the narrowness of the mind prisoner. Who came not only wants to listen music and singing. It also seeks shelter and relief, compensation and comfort. You have to reach all the crevices of the soul. The items you find them in crevices and put them side by side to facilitate the flight of the mind.

This is the stuff of dreams lived with open eyes, in a summer evening, or maybe not. Summer has just ended. There is already a hint of autumn in the air. Do not you feel the smell of chestnuts per hour or the rustle of dead leaves. Of one and the season will have to talk about music now. She incederà solemn soul, which otherwise did not announce itself. It will be a single pulse in the air. The source of every movement of the soul is you. And 'who look to you all.

*

Transpiration Lab Practice

Some things

*

Some things we link against the finger and laugh.


Some things are hidden in the eyes of the people are heard and

cry softly.

Some things falling from the sky:
shapeless black things, monsters and terror of the night

days.

Some things seem to have been prepared
by God and the Devil.



[...] Some things are like eagles. They live in high
-
may well forget the valley.

Some things are like an earthquake:
use all our fears.

Some things are like the beauty that is long dead:
only deep water of the well can wash them and wake them.

Emanuele Carnevale, Some things (from the first Lord )

Sometimes the memory of water is raised to the surface of things by a tear that arises from an empty heart. How far we have come before it emerged from that dark background bully crying, articulate long held back a sob as the need for love?

find ourselves listening to an important person for two hours about love and home and roots, and together see a girl crying silently for two hours is bad for the heart. But how much love they needed our guys, if not then it seems that they have received enough or have not received anything!

I asked the son of a friend of my father a few days ago, while complaints against life and all the rest: "But you never tried to ask you what your father see you? If you love? You do not think your father loves you? Do you know his love for you? " - Do not believe it, but he said he does not know! He does not know if his father loves him or not!

I want to say, but how do you go around the roads of the world without knowing whether one is loved or not?

This is what I call "being without roots."

E 'has been written that we are trees. Each of us is a big tree. Not a tree or any tree: a large tree. His law is to be found in the deep roots it sinks into the ground. If we have had many relationships and great loves, great pain if we tried, the more numerous and deep are our roots.

When I wrote " errant root " I did not mean "without roots". Maybe, they are the two houses, two countries who live in me to make me feel torn between both of them: on the one hand, my father's house, the other in the apartment where I live alone. But this is not a reason that makes me feel disoriented and overcome by some kind of discomfort.

The tree bears a house inside. And 'the house that we build over time, with joy and with pain, assigning to each person that we happen to meet a precise meaning, finding a story in the midst of the fragments of a life seemingly without history. It is always drawing faces and to seek and find stories. We must find another tree that we know ourselves to be.

When I say that I live alone in an apartment in Toledo, all run at once to think that my life is sad, I miss the warmth of a family, I have not a woman. And just as quickly they are surprised to hear that I am a woman I loved, that I carry in my heart the many stories that I could build humbly listening to the life that throbbed in front of me every time that a young friend or a musician or a singer improvised spoken to me, or me smile or have had the courage to say that I appreciate my attention. Are surprised to hear that I carry with me the memory faded to nothing of my mother's caresses, his voice roca, recalls, from a distance when my disagreement with his heart and he suffered at seeing me away ... And what about the profound loneliness of my father, who was not afraid for us to stay for hours to hear the voices of the campaign, in search of refreshment, when the rain had already begun to tap the arid land? He feared that the lightning, how exciting to see him watching the sky, looking for answers to his troubles, in the long evenings of late summer ...!

I was also asked what are my roots, if I have it, if I hear a real musician or not. People are always so many questions all at once, because he wants to know everything. Not satisfied with an answer that, perhaps, is worth a thousand speeches, because it leads immediately to the heart of the truth.

I believe in loyalty to the land, in the long goodbyes with whom we bid farewell to it day after day. I know, even if they are still young, you die slowly. Every day that goes away is a part of us dies, because we are mixed of hours and days and months. It seems too easy to count the years. We prefer to think of the long rows of days, that inexorable slide in and out of us. We live the time that marks for us the pace at which we encounter his life respected and honored.

file continuity is required to be able to say: "I'm here, here and now, never forget my time in the world, which takes away the most beautiful things. Establish file continuity is able to love, give meaning to the fragments that fall to our feet and asking only that the broken and reassembled and is not never fall prey to the idea that irreparable damage has occurred, that the evil of which we have witnessed is unredeemable, unforgivable, indefeasible, as if those who make mistakes have to serve for eternity that they were not 'here', always present to themselves and others, committed us to love us just as if nothing else was granted the world if only we do not love us.

*