I remember being in Chicago back in the day, listening to an FM rock station. After a bevy of alternative rock, the DJ suddenly put on the Waltz from Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. At the art store where I worked, one of the young hipsters immediately yelled, "Tchaikovsky!" and began conducting with her hands. I'll never forget that moment. We had gone from, say, Throwing Muses to Tchaikovsky, and I remember thinking: How cool was that? Here was music making its own case. It didn't plead. It didn't demand. In its own way, it rocked. And then, after that glorious interlude, it was back to alternative rock. The funny thing was that the classical piece had not seemed out of place. It held its own. It brought to the table its own heft, its own weight. It wasn't preachy. It wasn't better than. It was simply another fiber in the fabric of the day. And maybe that's the way great music should be heard. Not fenced off by genre. Not placed behind glass. Not approa...
We tempted you yesterday with "Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars," and I couldn't resist bringing you the real article as a gift — for your readership, your patience with me, and your willingness to follow Terra Firma all around the world and back.
You all rock!
Question: Why not go there? Right?
But first — how great was Natalia Lafourcade? Right? Stick with this site and we will trip the light fantastic. There are no worlds where we fear to tread, you awesome, incredible fanbase — you mad, merry band.
Break out the sextants.
Let's dump GPS and travel the old-fashioned way, when the world was mystery and anything could happen. Let's dial ourselves back to when longitude had only just been conquered, set our timepieces just right, take our readings from the stars, and hang on. Let us go where the day, the currents, and our instruments take us.
It's an adventure, just like Terra Firma.
The novel has no map. It's running on pure sextant energy and star-searching. That might have been terrifying had we traveled with Magellan, Drake, or Cook — but we're down for it. And we're not going anywhere to colonize, conquer, or plant flags for kings and queens. We're going to learn, discover, and enjoy the magnificence of what this world has to offer.
Jobim?
No introduction necessary. You already know him and his spectacular compositions.
You don't?
Yeah, you do.
Think "The Girl from Ipanema."
Think "Dindi."
See? You're already there.
Such magnificence shouldn't be hidden under a bushel — or reduced to a glancing reference in another post. A master like Antônio Carlos Jobim deserves to be extolled.
And "Corcovado"?
That's Jobim's original Portuguese song. The English-language version, with lyrics by Gene Lees, gave us those immortal words and the title we borrowed yesterday:
"Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars."
I feel Eliot coming on:
"Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky…"
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