June 16, 2005
Another enjoyable blog, courtesy of Richard Lawrence Cohen, is Be's.
Two recent posts taken at random, one on the modern Japanese composer Takemitsu, full of pointers for listening, and haunting moments.
As with many Japanese his age - he was born in Tokyo in 1930 - the experience grew out of the spiritual deprivation he suffered during World War II. Still in his early teens and too young to be conscripted for active military duty, he had been sent off with other youngsters to support the home front by working in a food-supply depot in the mountains. Virtually all Western music was banned by the Japanese military government as demoralising, and his ears were starved for any musical sounds other than the military marches and patriotic war songs that were all the nation was allowed to hear. One night, an older member of his youth corps smuggled into the barracks a battered, hand-cranked phonograph, and together they listened to a single record of French chanson, played with a bamboo needle. The voice of Lucienne Bover singing "Parlez Moi d'Amour " had a seductive effect on the young Takemitsu, sending chills through his tiny body. Years later, the recollection still brought tears to his eyes, and he said that he had vowed to himself on the spot that if the war ever ended he would somehow make music his life.
And he did, sitting at the feet of sound, right to his death in 1996, which he foresaw as "swimming happily through that perfect ocean that has no West and no East."
The other post points to a thumbnail of teaching applying math in the modern world. (Update: Greater accuracy of expression in deference to Mrs. Richard, since I'd hate to blame this episode on a teacher without more evidence.)
Contrast an admittedly exceptional great man with the sad and wizened quality of soul that weeps in insult when there is an opportunity to learn, well, what is there to say?
Be, discovered. Nice crowd at Richard's.
