cantabile

Waking daily with the sun to practice Cesar Franck's "Cantabile" before gallivanting off on my travels with Matt & Co. since Thursday has proved worth the (initially) seemingly hopeless effort. I was shivering while playing for our organ masterclass in the ever-unheated Protestantse Kerk in Antwerpen, my neurotically edited Marcel Dupre edition was nearly useless, I had missed a couple accidentals in my hurry to learn the notes, and I had never played the piece for anyone before, let alone on that organ, but I learned a great deal from Robillard and he seemed to like my playing. Later on I realized that this had been my first non-carillon masterclass; also the one from which I learned the most out the few I've observed. I wish I had time to go again tomorrow. Even "tourists", as Joris called them, came from Liege and perhaps other faraway lands. But alack, my neglected carillon studies call.

Incidentally, focusing intensely on organ for a couple of weeks this year improved my musicality at the carillon (admittedly at the expense of technical fluency). Getting my butt kicked during my last lesson in St.-Romboutstoren, and even occasionally during my "piano-beiaard" lessons with Eddy, have also contributed to my otherwise inexplicable progress while... well, not practicing.

I attended a concert of Heinrich Biber's complete "Rosencrantzsonaten", eight virtuoso violin gems that in contemporary language can only be described as "badass", with Ben this evening. The wet acoustics of the Eglise de Minimes in Brussels grew a bit tiresome, and Schmitt's melodrama and flourish irritated me in a (likely) hypocritical way, but by the last two sonatas my attention was riveted to the stage. The gorgeous music and elaborate interior of the church inspired a "Belgium" moment, akin to the "Yale moments" Nick and I used to discuss: Moments of disbelief at one's good fortune, at the fact that one is where one is.