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Notes03/08/2019
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Santalwalti
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Santalwalti
Just never wake up again!
Actually, I can't afford the ticket at all. But I heard her playing the radio, immediately bought all her CDs. Your game hasn't let me go. So of course I had to go where I could see them live.
Now we are all sitting there, alien and yet united by tense expectation. Some rustle with their programs, others chat in a restrained manner. Here and there you can hear a gentle laugh or timid coughing. I hardly notice it, fascinated I look at the stage
My thoughts wander to Mitsouko, whom I see in my mind. What dress will she be wearing tonight? I read in a press review that it very rarely appears in its traditional guise during appearances in Europe. A kimono made of finest silk, which envelops her body, caftan-like and floor-length.
Suddenly, as if at an agreed sign, there is complete silence in the room. There... there she steps out of a side door, greeted by thunderous applause: dainty, elegant, beautiful...black, long hair frames her pale complexion and she wears a green silk kimono held by a belt. A wide sash in salmon gold tones is tied in its back to the bow. Noble, apart, graceful is her appearance, calmly she takes a seat on the stool. She concentrates briefly, wipes her hands with a cloth, which she raises like in slow motion. It seems distant and completely isolated and so begins to play.
My expectations are high and I close my eyes. Only in this way can I follow her, her fingers, which now float over the keys, ....glide over them, dance, hip, beat, run and rest for a moment to immediately start something new
Mitsouko spreads an aura that I didn't expect, didn't suspect. Great!
She takes me away from the concert hall, lets me float as her hands do. It leads me to a citrus grove shining in the evening sun. Refreshing chords of bergamot surround me. A little wood begins further back - mysterious, dark and yet inviting. Deeper, deeper and deeper she leads me into her world of tones and notes and chords.
Her sonorous, breathtaking play exudes the scent of velvety roses. The calyxes are silky-cool and salmon-coloured and full of elegance. As soon as we leave the roses behind, she leads me to beguiling jasmine. The dark green leaves of the bushes sway in the wind that surrounds and lifts me with its bitter spice. On the flexible branches white jasmine blossoms shine in the twilight, seduce and bewitch me.
Mitsouko's playing gradually becomes more powerful, more energetic ....it seems as if she has to fight with the keys. I follow her willlessly and think: Only never wake up again!
Then finally, the fiery chords come to rest. A mystical silence fills the room, making room for a delicate purple lilac. Its scent draws me into its spell in its sweetness that makes my breath falter. The fluffy, quiet tones resemble little clouds moving over me. They open and sweet-sour scents of peach and apricot drip down. They wet my face and run down my cheeks. Am I crying?
The lilac moves on, still egriffen looking after him until he has disappeared.
The music is still quieter, pauses, stands still. I just want to dream ...dream music, drink scents, lay down in the moss and absorb the wonderful smell of damp earth.
I lost all sense of time.
I surrender to the spices of heaven and earth.
How I like to be captured by Mitsouko.
And again I think: Just never wake up again!
**
I sincerely thank you, dear Blue Mouse, for this precious rehearsal, which has given me a wonderful concert of notes and chords.
Now we are all sitting there, alien and yet united by tense expectation. Some rustle with their programs, others chat in a restrained manner. Here and there you can hear a gentle laugh or timid coughing. I hardly notice it, fascinated I look at the stage
My thoughts wander to Mitsouko, whom I see in my mind. What dress will she be wearing tonight? I read in a press review that it very rarely appears in its traditional guise during appearances in Europe. A kimono made of finest silk, which envelops her body, caftan-like and floor-length.
Suddenly, as if at an agreed sign, there is complete silence in the room. There... there she steps out of a side door, greeted by thunderous applause: dainty, elegant, beautiful...black, long hair frames her pale complexion and she wears a green silk kimono held by a belt. A wide sash in salmon gold tones is tied in its back to the bow. Noble, apart, graceful is her appearance, calmly she takes a seat on the stool. She concentrates briefly, wipes her hands with a cloth, which she raises like in slow motion. It seems distant and completely isolated and so begins to play.
My expectations are high and I close my eyes. Only in this way can I follow her, her fingers, which now float over the keys, ....glide over them, dance, hip, beat, run and rest for a moment to immediately start something new
Mitsouko spreads an aura that I didn't expect, didn't suspect. Great!
She takes me away from the concert hall, lets me float as her hands do. It leads me to a citrus grove shining in the evening sun. Refreshing chords of bergamot surround me. A little wood begins further back - mysterious, dark and yet inviting. Deeper, deeper and deeper she leads me into her world of tones and notes and chords.
Her sonorous, breathtaking play exudes the scent of velvety roses. The calyxes are silky-cool and salmon-coloured and full of elegance. As soon as we leave the roses behind, she leads me to beguiling jasmine. The dark green leaves of the bushes sway in the wind that surrounds and lifts me with its bitter spice. On the flexible branches white jasmine blossoms shine in the twilight, seduce and bewitch me.
Mitsouko's playing gradually becomes more powerful, more energetic ....it seems as if she has to fight with the keys. I follow her willlessly and think: Only never wake up again!
Then finally, the fiery chords come to rest. A mystical silence fills the room, making room for a delicate purple lilac. Its scent draws me into its spell in its sweetness that makes my breath falter. The fluffy, quiet tones resemble little clouds moving over me. They open and sweet-sour scents of peach and apricot drip down. They wet my face and run down my cheeks. Am I crying?
The lilac moves on, still egriffen looking after him until he has disappeared.
The music is still quieter, pauses, stands still. I just want to dream ...dream music, drink scents, lay down in the moss and absorb the wonderful smell of damp earth.
I lost all sense of time.
I surrender to the spices of heaven and earth.
How I like to be captured by Mitsouko.
And again I think: Just never wake up again!
**
I sincerely thank you, dear Blue Mouse, for this precious rehearsal, which has given me a wonderful concert of notes and chords.
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