Sunday 11 January 2004

Kennedy Airport, NYC

Yesterday morning I made a preliminary shopping expedition in the direction of Times Square at a temperature of -19°C, then took the subway over to Sim's uncle's apartment on the Upper East Side for our rehearsal, although we probably spent more time eating the leftovers from Sim's engagement party the night before than actually rehearsing. The expression stop on Chris's harmonium had packed up, so Chris got handy with a saw fashioning pieces of wood to jam the mechanism with.

I'd left the melodica behind at Paul and Barbara's, so I had to take a detour in a cab to pick it up on the way to Merkin Hall. And what a bizarre concert: it was great fun, I was delighted that the audience laughed most of the way through Domenico Corri's Duncan Gray, but the management of the Kaufman Center had decreed that we leave the stage by 10pm or pay $150 extra per minute. So Chris had a clock on the floor onstage, and as we got towards the end of the set, tempi got faster, repeats magically disappeared, we all talked less and less, and sure enough we left the stage at exactly 10.00pm. We were just getting warmed up really, and Jamie was a bit freaked at playing in his home town to a clock. I played piano in two or three sets for the first time which was a lot of fun.

And today I've just had a great time in New York. Over and after breakfast, Paul and I talked music (and he went off to the computer to buy a melodica online) and Barbara and I had a 'show and tell' where she showed me the video of her excellent schools theatre and literacy program 'Making Books Sing', and I played her my radio 'anti-thriller'. Soon it was time to get down to the serious business of buying presents to take home for the family, and then I was off to the Met Museum again, where Renee Barrick was primed to let me get my hands on the various keyboard instruments on display. Which is quite nerve-wracking, as crowds gather to hear you make a complete fool of yourself negotiating delicate art treasures for the first time, and trying to get some nice noises out of them. The big Appleton 1830 organ in the gallery (if you've been there you'll know the one) was lovely to play, the John Challis pedal harpsichord complete with aluminium soundboard was utterly bizarre to play, but the real gem was the 1720 Cristofori piano, the oldest surviving piano in the world, which just sang in its own quiet but beautiful way. I'd expected it to sound mechanical and awkward, but it was a real instrument with a life of its own. Next time I'll come prepared with something appropriate to play on it rather than just improvising vaguely. As I walked out into the street and Museum Mile I thought of how I'd read about this piano when I was about 8, and wondered then what it sounded like. And I've just got to play it and find out, and magical it was too. As I said to Renee, if Bach had known these rather than Silbermann's, he might just have taken to them earlier.

Now I'm in dismal airport-land, but frankly I couldn't give a toss as I've had such a good time. I've got a window seat, I might sleep.