Lord, am I enjoying wallowing in this wonderful recording of Sarah Cahill playing my transcription of Harold Budd’s Children on the Hill from a few weeks ago at the Second International Minimalism Conference. Near the end of the fast part, every key change could signal a return to the A section, and every one that doesn’t is a heartbreaking reassurance that the heaven of the piece isn’t about to end yet.
It’s been a long teaching week, so I’m not in the mood to discuss why one should never, ever transcribe and recreate a recording of an improvisation; be assured that I know many of you think that, and that I am suitably ashamed of my unconscionable behavior. If you miss the original recording’s crying baby, well, right. [UPDATE: Actually, we were afraid Charlemagne Palestine's snoring might be audible.] Please allow me, on a tired Friday night, to enjoy the illusion that I put dozens of hours into a project that pleased me and a few other people and did no one any harm.