Back to Bach

The life of a car-free adjunct teacher can feel like an endless sequence of train and subway stations linked together by plodded miles, office on one's back. So I've found myself unable to muster the energy to go in town this afternoon to hear a program that includes Bach's cello suite in D Major. As a partial antidote to fatigue of all kinds, including political fatigue, I'd like to invite everyone to listen to (or play) some Bach.

For all that the Bach suites don't require pyrotechnics, I've found the one I'm studying (the first, in G Major) far more daunting to work on than later, physically more challenging pieces by flashier composers. With Bach, the music is there, and you're there, and you have to get going, but what do you do? One pattern begins as another ends in a sequence whose pulse is elusive, and which could mean anything or nothing. According to my teacher, someone once called Bach a "perpetual motion machine". With the caveat that Bach breathes--finding where is the difficulty--that feels right. My teacher also talks about adult students, amateurs like me, who want to do nothing but sit in a closet and play Bach suites. For an amateur musician, it makes sense to look at the Bach suites as a meditation. The great and good players of this world will find something in them to say that others will benefit from hearing. The rest of us can study and learn and explore endlessly. A good antidote for much that ails.

Another antidote is spring, in which I'm finally starting to believe. The crocus and snowdrops are out, daffodil stalks standing tall, waiting for a little warmth, and the light has begun to fill the sky. All of this helps.