15 Favourite Concertos

It's a good thing I didn't post my list of favourite concertos right away, because I hadn't given it as much careful thought and several would have been omitted. I had to increase the list size to 15. Here my taste is much more varied, ranging from Classicism to Contemporary Minimalism. We're starting from the top again:

1. Dvorak: Cello Concerto in B Minor
   No contest here. The cello is perhaps my favourite instrument. Dvorak is one of my favourite composers, and this sweet, lyrical concerto is one of his masterpieces, in fact an outstanding masterpiece of the 19th Century. My recording: Julian Lloyd Webber, Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, Vaclav Neumann.


2. Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 3 in D Minor
   Of course the piano is my instrument, and Rachmaninoff my preferred piano composer. No. 3 is my favourite for the peculiar opening theme and the careening finale. Guilty pleasure. My recording: Lazar Berman, London Symphony Orchestra, Claudio Abbado.
   
3. Saint-Saens: Piano Concerto No. 2 in G Minor
   Hard choice between this and No. 5, both deliciously exotic. But the mysterious introduction is one of my favourite piano movements. The rest is plain fun. My recording: Pascal Rogé, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Charles Dutoit.


4. Poulenc: Concerto in D Minor for Two Pianos
   More delight: French naughtiness with exotic gamelan music. The second movement starts off sounding like a Mozart andante and gradually falls into depravity. My recording: James Anagnoson & Leslie Kinton, Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony, Raffi Armenian.


5. Rodrigo: Concierto Andaluz
   More appealing to me than the other two more famous guitar concertos. The Spanish rhythms are irresistible. My recording: Los Romeros, San Antonio Symphony Orchestra, Victor Alessandro.


6. Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 2 in B Major
   Symphonic in scale. Even if the whole thing weren't a masterpiece, I would have to include this for the cello solo in the slow movement, one of my favourite melodies. My recording: Gaza Anda, Berlin Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan


7. Barber: Violin Concerto
   Bittersweet as late afternoon sunshine on leaves in September. My recording: Gil Shaham, London Symphony Orchestra, André Previn


8. Beethoven: Violin Concerto
   A sentimental favourite since I heard it performed years ago by Isaac Stern with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. I don't own a recording.


9. Schumann: Piano Concerto in A Minor
   Schumann didn't let virtuosity obscure poetic lyricism. My recording: Martha Argerich, National Symphony Orchestra, Mstislav Rostropovich


10. Greig: Piano Concerto in A Minor.
    A few concertos were overplayed at home when I was growing up: Rachmaninoff's 2nd, Tchaikovsky's 2nd and the Greig, but it transcends familiarity. I have always loved it. My recording: Bella Davidovich, Seattle Symphony, Gerard Schwarz.


11. Sibelius: Violin Concerto in D Minor
    The only concerto by my favourite composer, this is classic Sibelius, highly distinctive: shadowy and austere as a Northern landscape. My recording: Nigel Kennedy, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, Simon Rattle


12. Glass: Violin Concerto
    Exciting minimalist piece. Thanks to draco_kc for introducing me to this. My recording: Adele Anthony, Ulster Orchestra, Takuo Yuasa.


13. Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 23 in A Major
    I judge the Mozart concertos by their slow movements. Bookended between two bright outer movements is this melancholy adagio, my favourite. I don't own a recording.
    
14. Ravel: Piano Concerto in G Major
    Compare this to Poulenc's Concerto For Two Pianos. They both premiered in 1932 and share a sense of Parisian coquettishness. However this piece is more serious and was clearly influenced by George Gershwin. The dreamy slow movement is unforgettable; its simplicity belies the fact that Ravel deliberated over every note. This concerto is relatively new to me. It will undoubtedly move higher in my list. My recording: Pascal Rogé, Orchestra symphonique du Montréal, Charles Dutoit.
    
15. Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 5 in E flat Major
    I had a hard choice here among 3, 4 and 5. At another time, in another mood, I would choose differently. My recording: Wilhelm Kempff, Berlin Philharmonic, Ferdinand Leitner.

Concerto addendum

The problem with concerti is they're often short enough to slip into orchestral collections, easily missed in a cursory glance over my CD collection. Driving downtown this afternoon I heard a clarinet concerto on CBC. It was unfamiliar, but I immediately thought, "Uh-oh, I left out a couple important woodwind concertos." The first of these ranks very high on my list, so I'll insert it, and push the rest back.

• 3. Vaughan Williams: Concerto in A Minor for Oboe and Strings
  All air and light, this is one of the composer's masterpieces and one of my favourite 20th Century compositions. My recording: Maurice Bourgue, English String Orchestra, William Boughton.


• 17. Mozart: Clarinet Concerto in A Major
  After Brahms' Clarinet Quintet, this is my favourite composition for an instrument I played as a child. My recording: Hans Deinzer, Collegium Aureum, Franzjosef Maier.

That makes an awkward number for a list, and I can't imagine cutting anything, so I'll round it off to 20 by including the three concerti I had the hardest time culling. Not much explanation is required here:

• 18. Saint-Saens: Piano Concerto No. 5


• 19. Beethoven: Piano Concert No. 4
  
• 20. Brahms: Violin Concerto
  

One small thing

Photo: self-portrait in the Eramosa River, Sept. 28.

~~~~~~~~~~

"One thing at a time," I keep reminding myself.

It's easy to expect a full day, wanting to do everything.

I'm getting used to the pin-pricking that started with the panic attack several weeks ago. Every day I feel it across the nape of my neck and shoulders. As if a cold draft had caught me or I heard a ghost. It's a trembling trace of adrenalin. It comes whenever I start to push myself forward, my body warning me, "Don't do anything! Don't change anything!" As if the world would fall out of its orbit, splat on the floor of creation.

It's better than weariness. Weariness weighs one down and prevents anything happening without an heroic exertion. I have been sleeping and I'm not tired. This is different; it's the blind, mindless reptilian brain deep within the mammalian one. The root of instinct. Something keeps holding me back, warning me. But I know that's not the answer.

You can't do much about weariness except go to bed. With anxiety, at least I can face it, go into it. Like standing on the edge of Lake Fletcher, knowing how bracing will be that first instant of contact when the fresh water folds over shoulders, back, waist, thighs, sliding like a worm into a silver tunnel. The beauty curls around, swallows, makes love to my whole body. But while I'm still standing there on the end of the dock, I have to force my mind past that moment of cold contact to the knowledge of how beautiful I'll feel in my lover's wet lap.

The places I'm trying to dive now aren't like that. I don't have much prior experience of goodness, no freshwater memory smell in the back of my mind to reinforce the reptile brain, tell it things will turn out alright. For all I know, they will continue to go badly.

But holding back is not the answer. I know that. Don't tell me my thinking is distorted, Mr. Shrink. I know perfectly well what I have to do. It's my feelings that are distorted. Not that they're wrong or unnatural. Feelings are never wrong. They're just daunted by memories of unhappiness. I have to keep pushing past them, one day at a time.

I keep telling myself, "Just one thing. It's all that's necessary for today. Take one step on your own account to make things better."

Part of the reason it sticks in my mind so well is Dad gave me that advice. "Just one new contact every day," he said. I wonder where he got it from. He's such an achiever, how could one little thing ever be enough for him?

It's so funny—to receive good advice from one's father—that the idea has stuck with me. Not that I hadn't ever heard it before, but somehow hearing it in his voice, knowing that he is behind me in this, is helpful. He has stopped the useless prodding and interrogation, replaced that irritating behaviour with the dispensation of useful aphorisms.

"One small thing."

It doesn't do any good to let the huge planet loaded weight of everything that needs to be done crowd down. To take pride in a small step, it is a starting place.

So today after stuffing the laundry into the dryer I headed downtown to Fresh Start housing centre to see what apartments I could find. I wrote down a list of phone numbers and called most of them. Some of the places didn't have anything to offer. We're restricting ourselves now to three-bedroom apartments for $1,000 a month, utilities included. The list is short, but at least there are places available. I left several messages, didn't reach anyone who had a place that seemed to fit. I found one for about $890, but it didn't have a balcony. That's something Jon and I feel strongly about: having a place to walk out.

After that I walked over to the pharmacy and asked about light boxes. You can rent them for $60 a month, or purchase one for $275. I'll have to consider, ask my parents about it. A little light would make some difference, I know it would. Can feel autumn curling around the corners of my vision like blindness. Shadows tugging at the sides. A little more light would help. It's one small thing.