As I write this, I should be doing something more productive, socio-economic wise. I’m sitting in one of the generously comfortable Aeron chairs at the New York Library for the Performing Arts, listening to someone else’s music . . . I had come to do a number of things; escape from my unheated apartment (more Bohemian than I need right now), make some sounds, read some ‘professional literature,’ and continuing delving into the iPhone SDK.
That last is on my desktop, and after looking into a few paragraphs of code, I felt I needed a little distraction. I have only a small selection of rather specialized music on my laptop, so I thought I’d check out an intriguing shared library, from some generous spirit within 50 or so feet of me, labelled ‘classical music.’ Oh . . . joy.
I don’t know who this person is, but what a library! Where to begin? Right now, I’m listening to Willem Mengleberg’s impassioned, devastating account of the Tchiakovsky “Pathetique” Symphony (I think this is the disc) and manfully trying to resist the temptation to skip over to Andriessen, Brahms, multiple Bruckner symphonies . . . look at all that Boulez! Mahler . . . Rameau! So much Stravinsky and Varese . . . is that the complete works of Webern?!
Who is my phantom DJ, my secret sharer? There’s no way to tell, and I’m not going to try, but I’m intrigued by the kind of person who has this library. With the multiple versions of many symphonies, led by conductors like Mengleberg, Sanderling, Celibadache and Gunter Wand, I think it’s either a scholar or a conducting student from Juilliard. This is very much like what I love about radio, a resource that presents itself for passive sharing, that is absolutely generous to those who take the step to seek it out and tune it in. In at least some small niche, there is a soul mate out there. Just . . . are they leaving?!