I love music... It moves me to new heights, always
I don't listen to music as much as I should (according to friends and family). Heck, I don't listen to music as much as I'd like, but partly that is due to the effect it has on me. Music creates in me a sense of wonderment, a blissful haze at the immensely marvelous world I inhabit. This includes music from the anonymous composers pre-Palestrina, to the post-Modernist composers of today. Everything from Bach's beautiful lines to the angular atonality of Webern, I love it all. The problem with loving it all is trying to decide what to listen to, what to embrace at any given moment. Because I also compose, this can be particularly problematic as anything I listen to can (and does) affect what I write. So, if I'm in the midst of a piece (or 4 as I am right now), listening to pieces in styles different from what I'm working on can reek havoc on my own composition. Yet, there are moments like tonight, when I had a particularly trying day --not a bad one, ju