Wednesday Piper

After that whole "bear" thing, I figured I ought to mellow out, so I thought I'd write about what soothes the beast in me--music. I'm thinking about my flute in particular at the moment, probably because I'm performing tonight with the Cherokee hand bell group. This evening is their Christmas performance, and I'll be joining them on "Riu, Riu, Chiu," a 16th-century Spanish carol, and "Do You Hear What I Hear," one of my favorite Christmas songs.

The concert went well. Hand bells are so fun to listen to and to watch. The director was right: they seem especially appropriate at this time of year. I got the basic melody stuff for "Riu, Riu, Chiu" across fairly well but did little more than avoid glaring mistakes during the flashy parts. At least I ended with the rest of the group. "Do You Hear What I Hear" came off wonderfully, I thought. I can play the hell out of slow stuff! The final passage of took a bag of wind to complete, and having gone over five years now without smoking, I had the wind to get through it. Several people mentioned wondering if I was going to pass out on that long last F.

My flute was made by a Japanese company named Muramatsu. I've had it since 1978 or thereabouts. I don't play as well--technically speaking--as I did when I was a flute major at Mars Hill College years ago, but I'm much better at improvisation now than I've ever been. One of my favorite things to do is take my flute into some room with resonance and just make up melodies, listening to the hints of echoed harmonies and those ghostly difference tones bouncing off the wallswallswallswallswalls. . . .