Matt's blog

Just played another guitar night at Empyrean downtown. Good stuff. I played three movements from Bach's 3rd cello suite which is coming together really nicely. Jeni got me the Yo-Yo Ma recording of all six suites which I have been listening to for the last few days. It's gotten me thinking about this piece in a new way. I may even re-transcribe part of it because I don't feel that the guitar transcription I have really captures the intention of the piece at a few points. I'm also thinking about ditching the young artist competition, which requires me to learn a pretty frickin' hard concerto, in order to get a lot more rep learned. We'll see. I don't want this concerto to eat up all my time when there's a bunch of solo stuff out there I could be getting into. Also, Julian Bream is an amazing guitarist, even at 70+ years old. We watched some of a movie biography about him featuring a lot of his playing. I think I may learn a piece he plays "Hommage au tombeau de Debussy" by Manuel de Falla which is a great impressionistic type piece which takes its time, tempo-wise, and quotes Debussy's "Images." As much as I love all the flashy, virtuosic stuff, I might love playing slow stuff even more. I realized that so far my senior recital only has one slow part to it, the Sarabande in the cello suite, and I think I should supplement that. If I ditch this concerto it will give me a lot of time to put together some cool stuff for the next recital. Anyway, I know the Bach will be awesome, I just want fill the rest of the program with stuff I'm just as excited about that will make a good show. Geez, I love playing guitar. Sometimes I feel like it's the only think I should ever be doing. But for now, "Come heavy sleep..."

Come heavy sleep, the image of true death,
And close up these my weary weeping eyes,
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath
Come, and possess my tired thought-worn soul
That in living dies, till thou on me be stole.

Come, shadow of my end and shape fo rest,
Allied to death, child to his black-faced night;
Come thou and charm these rebels in my breast
Whose waking fancies do my mind affright.
O come sweet sleep, come or I die for ever,
Come ere my last sleep comes, or come never.

-John Dowland (1563-1626)