LETTER FROM PARRY SOUND

Roman Borys, cellist with the Grammy-winning Gryphon Trio was sitting at his laptop.
“Do you mind if I play.” I asked, pointing toward the upright piano in the room.
“”Go ahead,” he responded.
I am shameless about my piano playing. At best it is mediocre and I shouldn’t dare allow it to be heard by anyone, especially not by a truly great musician, but like I say…

I rattled off my version of the Ellington classic “Satin Doll.” I followed that with a slightly flawed rendition of “When Your Lover Has Gone,” and knocked off a bit of “When the World Was Young.” As I left I turned to Roman and asked: “Think I’m ready for a concert?”
“It was really soothing,” was his reply.

It was going to be a good day for me, doing what I love – talking to serious musicians about music. I snobbishly perhaps, use the word “serious” to indicate classical music.

It is July and I am having my annual musical feast at the Festival of The Sound. After my “recital” I adjourned to the concert hall for what night be the best concert I have ever attended. It was all cellos, plus a heart-stopping soprano voice and a fine accompanist at the piano.

It was a musical banquet for the man who above all other regrets, deplores his failure to be a good musician. That person is me. In the spirit of “Looking Ahead” I take piano lessons, one every week when I am in town. I practice daily, knowing that I will never go far musically, but relishing every new experience, every new chord voicing, and every new tune. I am making music and it is really just for me. (My virtuoso cellist was being kind and tolerant.)

I wonder sometimes if I go to Parry Sound every summer for the music. Do I go there because I can talk music to musicians? Maybe. To talk to Erica Goodman, one of the world’s great harpists is a treat. She remembers me from my radio days and expresses surprise that a guy from rock ‘n roll CHUM can actually know about classical music.
I tell her I remember her playing the Ravel Introduction and Allegro. She reminds me that he was a teenager when he wrote it, one of the seminal pieces for harp.

I exchange some French banter with Michel Strauss a cellist from Paris who brings a rare lyric quality to his playing. I congratulate Rolf Gjelsten, the cellist with the New Zealand String Quartet for his performance of “Song of Birds by Pablo Casals, accompanied by seven other cellos.

Most of all, I want to wrap my arms around the soprano, Desiree Till, who has just done an electrifying, standing-O performance of Villa Lobos” Bachianas Brasileiras #5.” Ordinarily I only tolerate singers. I am not enthralled by vocal music. But not last night. The Villa Lobos piece is for soprano and assembled cellos and was long the trademark of Brazilian soprano Bidu Sayao. But this performance surpassed anything I had ever heard. It is wordless in the beginning, then to a wonderful Fado-like “hymn” (I use the word because there is not another one to adequately describe the performance,) all in Portuguese. Then, she brings her voice down to an almost crooning pianissimo. You can hear a pin drop. My jaw drops. It is transformative.

I am watching the cellists, including Michel from Paris, and Coenrad Bloemendal who playing years ago with “Camarata,” where the Festival’s Artistic Director James Campbell, also played.

The next morning I feast on breakfast with some of those same musicians. I enjoy flutist Suzanne Shulman for her “take” on everything musical. Denis Brott sits down at our table and we have an earnest conversation about cellos and Villa Lobos and how every composer did and still does revere Bach. I was having more than breakfast. It was lunch, dinner and a late snack, a cornucopia of food for the soul – my soul at; least.

There was more and I was ready for it. Strauss and his cello with his wife Macha at the piano, and Moshe Hammer at the violin play a brilliant trio b y Ravel. I hear that cello played in the honeyed style of Tortelier and Fournier and many other great French cellists.

Perhaps most rewarding was the reaction of Tom, the grandson of my Paris friends Henri and Michele. He tends to be a little bit low-keyed and there is no “gee whiz” about him. But here, finally, he becomes aroused enough to set aside his reserve. I was reminded of the two weeks in Paris with Rachel, where I could exult in her wide-eyed response to all the sights of that City of Light. Tom gave me some of the same. His became, for him, enthusiastic. In fact, after the virtuosity of the Afiara String Quartet, four young and brilliant musicians, he shared my feeling that there was almost too much virtuosity. His moment came when James Campbell used his clarinet, playing the Brahms quintet with the rollicking Afiara quartet. His leadership slowed their headlong virtuosity and brought a calm but brilliant quality to the playing.

I know. This has been one of those self-indulgent pieces that was probably important for me to write, but far less important for you to read. I thank you, as I did Roman, for your patience.