Not as magical as the previous two posts, but close. Me back when I was a sophomore in high school butchering Chopin’s “Revolutionary” Etude Op. 10, No. 12.
This is also magical.
Favorite piece I’ve ever played. 4:37 is magical.
She sat there on the edge of the couch with her hands hanging in her lap and her smoky blue country eyes fixed in a wide stare because she was in an evil gray New York pad that she’d heard about back West, and waiting like a longbodied emaciated Modigliani surrealist woman in a serious room.
“La Femme à l’Éventail” (1919)
