Andrew Del Monte is one of my newest favourite composers, and it's nearly impossible to find any of his works online because he composes mostly for his high school choir. Happily, however, a friend from chorale uploaded our performances of two of his fabulous compositions. Surprisingly, we did a pretty clean job of it, if I may say so. Please listen and discover:
Il Mio Cuore and Homeward Bound by Andrew Del Monte
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
Sunday, 19 June 2011
The Books Are In...
I left school far behind as I walked out of my logic final about three weeks ago. But here I am, hitting the books yet again in midsummer. Life is ironic that way. I kind of wanted to wait a bit before taking the plunge to attempt the sixpack license, but knowing school starts the last day of August didn't leave me much time to weigh pros and cons. However, it's different when you're studying something related to your passion, something that goes beyond a requirement or a letter grade. I wish the rest of school was that way. More points scored for the School of Life, ahem....
Saw a beautiful boat today. She'd be a really nice "The boat" but her pricetag is far far beyond me. If I managed to make it big sometime in the future then I would definitely think about it. I think she'll be gone long before then. And its too much footage for me to tackle by myself at this point. Always good to keep the ideas flowing though, you never know where the future will spin your path.
Saw a beautiful boat today. She'd be a really nice "The boat" but her pricetag is far far beyond me. If I managed to make it big sometime in the future then I would definitely think about it. I think she'll be gone long before then. And its too much footage for me to tackle by myself at this point. Always good to keep the ideas flowing though, you never know where the future will spin your path.
Saturday, 11 June 2011
One Particular Journey
The full feeling of summer has been breaking through this week, and it's a little strange but in a good way. It's the first June in four years that I haven't been summer staffing, and it feels new to have the next few months stretching before me and have to figure out what I'm going to do with it all. Quite wonderful, actually.
Yesterday we hiked about twenty-two miles through the park to a waterfall and back. As we got closer, we could hear the creek rushing, and the terrain changed and we were walking through these meadowish areas of clover and horsetails all covered by ancient redwood trees. It had a more open feel to it than just the closed redwood forest down at the entrance of the park. There was alot of anticipation right before we hit the waterfall as we scrambled up the creek. The waterfall itself was not that impressive. We thought we had got to the wrong one, and traveled further up the creek first, trying to see if there was a bigger one further up the canyon. To be honest, it was quite a nice waterfall, coming into the creek at a ninety-degree angle and surrounded by old pieces of an ancient railroad.
It reminded me of something that happened in theory class this past semester when we were studying preludes. We were trying to figure out the true return to the home key, and Fred was getting a little frustrated because we weren't seeing the obvious. The smart alec kid next to me said, "It's about the journey, Fred, it's about the journey." One of the more humorous parts of class I remember. Sometimes that statement has a lot of truth to it.
Yesterday we hiked about twenty-two miles through the park to a waterfall and back. As we got closer, we could hear the creek rushing, and the terrain changed and we were walking through these meadowish areas of clover and horsetails all covered by ancient redwood trees. It had a more open feel to it than just the closed redwood forest down at the entrance of the park. There was alot of anticipation right before we hit the waterfall as we scrambled up the creek. The waterfall itself was not that impressive. We thought we had got to the wrong one, and traveled further up the creek first, trying to see if there was a bigger one further up the canyon. To be honest, it was quite a nice waterfall, coming into the creek at a ninety-degree angle and surrounded by old pieces of an ancient railroad.
It reminded me of something that happened in theory class this past semester when we were studying preludes. We were trying to figure out the true return to the home key, and Fred was getting a little frustrated because we weren't seeing the obvious. The smart alec kid next to me said, "It's about the journey, Fred, it's about the journey." One of the more humorous parts of class I remember. Sometimes that statement has a lot of truth to it.
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
A Change in the Wind
The past six months I've come to realize that virtually everything is perspective. I'm not sure how to explain it, but something to the effect of "one man's hell is another man's heaven." I suppose attitude has something to do with it certainly, but some situations can either be great or terrible depending on your perspective and what you want out of life. Some of us are so wrapped up in this need for security that we lose sight of all the experiences we could be having when we're working to keep that security. And then others of us are so far the other way that we stop trying to plan for the future. There has to be a fine medium in there somewhere, but where and how do you grasp it?
I just started Voyaging Southward from the Strait of Magellan by Rockwell Kent, which is proving quite interesting. He includes this bit by Bayard Boyesen after the introduction, rather intriguing:
Over the Ultimate
Who asks when
We that have done with doing and the blood-red tides of men
Shall hold fast
Ourselves at last?
Who cares when?
We that have dived o'er the morning and the thither sides of night,
What delight?
Should we have your traces,
Times and places -
What delight?
Ye that are day-things,
Reckoners of north and south,
Of great things ruinous;
What should ye know of us,
Us that have stars for our playthings,
Yea, stars that browse on our mouth?
What life saith,
Shall we care,
We that have juttied through death
And despair?
We that have joked with the mountain gales
And sent them rattling home,
We that have held the morning's sails
O'er the foam?
Yet laughing at sails and mornings, all things that are still or roam?
What life saith
Of its strife,
Shall we care?
We that have juttied through death
And despair,
Yea, and life!
Shall we care?
Of what shall we care?
I just started Voyaging Southward from the Strait of Magellan by Rockwell Kent, which is proving quite interesting. He includes this bit by Bayard Boyesen after the introduction, rather intriguing:
Over the Ultimate
Who asks when
We that have done with doing and the blood-red tides of men
Shall hold fast
Ourselves at last?
Who cares when?
We that have dived o'er the morning and the thither sides of night,
What delight?
Should we have your traces,
Times and places -
What delight?
Ye that are day-things,
Reckoners of north and south,
Of great things ruinous;
What should ye know of us,
Us that have stars for our playthings,
Yea, stars that browse on our mouth?
What life saith,
Shall we care,
We that have juttied through death
And despair?
We that have joked with the mountain gales
And sent them rattling home,
We that have held the morning's sails
O'er the foam?
Yet laughing at sails and mornings, all things that are still or roam?
What life saith
Of its strife,
Shall we care?
We that have juttied through death
And despair,
Yea, and life!
Shall we care?
Of what shall we care?
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