The Steinway Grand and I....
April 8, 2009
Playing the Steinway grand piano on stage at the Winspear Concert Hall on Monday night was, to say the least, thrilling. The Raving Poets Band had the honour of being part of the Mayor’s Celebration of the Arts here in Edmonton. The Steinway was a bonus. It meant I didn’t have to carry my own keyboard. The sound quality of this concert piano was stunning. I barely had to touch the keys and the notes were soaring throughout the hall. The colours of burnt sienna, and straw, and the Caribbean Sea, and the twilight indigo above the mountains at Pyramid Lake in the spring, and the smoothness of a lover’s hip in candlelight at 2 AM after champagne – all these colours were in the sound of this piano. I was humbled and honoured and in my bliss. The Raving Poets Band (Randall Edwards, Mark Kozub, Gordon McRae and I) were very well received by the audience. For the record, I pulled this off the Net: “Hamburg Steinway Model D-274, Concert Grand Piano. Ebony Polish Brass Hardware, Brass Key & Lock, Red Plate Trim, Massive dual-wheel brass casters, music rack, leather artist bench, padded cover, free moving, free tuning, on site regulation and voicing. This is basically the TOP PIANO IN THE WORLD... the one that artists will pay to play. Hamburg Steinway Model D-274 9' Concert Grand Piano Ebony Polish Hamburg Steinway D-274 # 0720Concert Grand $146,995.00 USD"
We had so much fun. I read the following poem with a great improvised musical score supplied by the band…
Note to a wife on the “old places”
Meet me tonight in the old places.
Meet me on the futon, in the centre of the living room
with the gossamer periwinkle curtains fluttering
and candles
throwing Matisse shadows
carelessly
beautifully
impossibly
against the wall, and the too-loud traffic on the street
transforms into a symphony of us.
Meet me at the bottom of the Moose Lake Loop,
the colour of mountains in your cheeks, you,
uneven
unsure<
unsteady<
on those fish-scale skis.
And I, waiting for you, opening the wine,
cutting Brie and bread, and after,
making tea with melted snow on the tiny gas burner –
And look where we are –
the mountains white and green and grey –
icy blue sky with a secret of stars.
Meet me at the Bistro Praha on New Year’s Eve,
with our friends,
with a larger than life Frantishek
burping his champagne at the back table,
and Milan with his serious, elegant, waiter’s way –
all our old friends at various wooden tables,
drinking champagne, a swirling mass of dancing,
and cigars, ridiculous music, saying farewell,
letting go of the old, and whispering hello
to what may come.
Meet me inside the idea of the pointlessness of saying:
“I love you.”
Any moron can say “I love you.”
I love you only exists in what we do.
Meet me at 2 a.m. at the Alex, eight years ago
hours after her birth. I’m walking down the
hall holding our daughter in my arms –
introducing her to that guy over there
washing the floor.
The night nurses smiling as I whisper
“Welcome to Earth, daughter,”
over and over again.
Meet me tonight, for that bottle of Veve Cliquot in the closet.
Why am I saving it? Now is its time.
Tonight, let's you and I –
make a new place to meet.
1 Comment
1. mandie had this to say: Apr 30, 2009 ~ 17:56 ~ #
gawd thomas, this is gorgeous, gorgeous. i am just a puddle. whew… how do i come off of this one?