Curt Siffert's Piano Musings: Recent Episodes
Curt Siffert
Piano Improvisations by Curt Siffert - unless otherwise noted, all pieces are made up on the spot starting when the record button is pressed. These pieces are more about exploring the creative process than about producing finished, polished works. However, some material will undoubtedly be reworked into finished pieces for future projects. All pieces released under a Creative Commons license - by-nc-sa 3.0. In other words, they are not to be used for commercial purposes, but can be used/adapted for other noncommercial works. All require attribution. Share and enjoy. Visit http://curtsiffert.com/ for more music.
She got them in Guatemala, and kept them next to her matryoshka dolls. At night, the worry dolls would dance and try to offer comfort to their counterparts.
Think of the opposite of erosion. Sand and swamp, to soil, rock, and clay, and finally vegetation and peaceful structure.
That church is always humming to itself a bit. It comes from deep inside the walls. But you can only really hear it after the congregants all leave.
Something horrible happened the night before. Can the meadow not acknowledge that? Sometimes when morning breaks, there is a rudeness to the peace.
The rush of the storm has passed. The only things that got washed away were those things you can do without.
Some kind of storm is coming. You have to tie down everything that is loose. Because you don't know what will happen. Something. Might as well tie yourself down, too. Then just wait.
The kingdom was mighty. Great gates, wide courtyards, and deadly intrigue... but falling into disrepair.
Rusted metal and twisted gears, but still kinda cheery - he limps around the junkyard helping other contraptions to better themselves.
A dark bird is flying, testing the cold air just before spring. Some life might emerge from the still-frozen ground, but it might be too early to survive.
Start with a loose tangle. Find two ends, and start pulling them in opposite directions. Make them want different things. Force through the tangle, fight against it. Turn it into a knot, make it harder, as hard as metal. Then remember, how could metal ever become a knot? To untangle, remember where it started. With softness.
It's a strange structure, new. She moves around it tentatively, slowly assembling the pieces in her understanding and movements. It's a careful embrace, but ultimately whole and secure.
She's there to protect the spring and the lake. She moves smoothly, gracefully, arranges the moss and lilypads just so, makes sure the moonlight glints at the right angle, keeps the water clear. The problem is, she got knocked up. And her daughter, who just hit the terrible twos, is running around trying to "help".
I'm trying to drive this car, but it doesn't steer, it has no brakes, and the doors don't even open. There are wrecks all around me, cars and trucks turned upside-down, but none of them appear damaged. The traffic rules don't make any sense. And just when I think I'm getting somewhere, this giant toddler reaches down and grabs me.
It's Monday night. Sunday's service went well. But it's halfway through rehearsal, the break was too short, shoulders are slumped, people are leaning back in their chairs. The sopranos are giggling about something unholy. Time to focus for one more runthrough.
We had to hack through the brush to get there. It wasn't mist that hid it, just miles of desolation and occasional thickets.
He needs no food and is not rooted to a spot. But he also has no place to go, and cannot enjoy the warmth of the sun or the touch of a stranger. The world's beauty is only an apparition to him.
He's clumsy - graceless with his flying, always spilling things. Takes some wrong turns. Sometimes he just makes a real mess of things. It probably frustrates him that he'll never live up to his sister.
The kids are stuck inside, waiting out the rain. But the merry-go-round slowly moves as the puddles grow.
You've forgotten something. It's important. It's about yourself. It's buried in yourself, and you've forgotten. But you'll be reminded. You'll hear hints of it from time to time. You'll hear more when you're ready. You'll remember when you're ready.
Tommy and I keep trying to sneak up on the swamp monsters. We have to be really careful because they're sleeping. We have to be quiet. But Chrissy keeps asking us questions! We didn't want to bring her along, she keeps ruining everything!
It was over two tons. The pastor worried it was too big. It moved slowly through the air, helped by cables and the crane. It was impossible. But then it fit.
She owns it herself. Sometimes she feels a little out of her element, but it's still hers. It rocks her gently. And sometimes it's a little intense. But it's hers.
The second chance, bestowed to those that don't expect it and don't realize they deserve it.
It starts with a gathering. Healthy ideals. A gentle church is formed, and it grows - hopefully not too quickly.