Techon
09-12-2004, 00:32
Welcome to the twenty-eigth Paradise Club. We have all the amenities of the previous clubs, including a restaurant and bar complete with karaoke machine, indoor and outdoor swimming pools, hot tubs, tennis courts, a casino, a beauty salon, and a championship 18 hole golf course and, there is a fabulous ballroom. (Be sure to book early for your all your holiday parties.) Also check in for entertainment by various of people who come here often.
So, stop by for a drink, a bite to eat or just to shoot the breeze.
-----
-In Memory of all the veterans from all Clubs who have passed on
She'd been trying to fit in time to practice every time she was
completely alone. She'd even bought a hundred dollar keyboard for her
room, but she couldn't get the feel of anything, she could only
practice notes. She knew that she wasn't that good but she needed to
play enough so that she didn't decay even further and the lounge was
empty. The people in the bar probably wouldn't even hear her as long
as she kept everything quiet.
She ran through her scales and all her pieces easily at low dynamic
levels, with the lid and the soft pedal down. The tuning wasn't bad,
it hadn't been tuned since she arrived, but it was rarely used so it
was keeping it's pitch fairly well.
She was almost ready to get up to leave when an idea struck her. She
started playing a simple but familiar melody, "A Whole New World," she
hadn't heard it much since she was a kid but after a monophonic
run-through she had it in her head and she could play it well enough.
In the bass she started another familiar melody, this one a musical
theater piece "On the Street Where you Live." She didn't play this
melody in it's original setting or mood in the least bit, she even
modified some of the intervals to create a malevolent, hunting sound.
She placed this melody in the bass line while she played a jazzed up
version of "World" in the upper treble reaches. In between she started
adding harmonic filler, very jazzy in style and matching with the
melody closest to it so the top stayed light and the bottom stayed
dark, but the middle created an atmosphere of grey.
The music kept getting more complex and building louder, the piano was
starting to resonate through the building and she'd long since
forgotten about the soft pedal. The lower line was staying as dark as
she intended but it had changed into two separate tone-rows that were
being played outside the time signature. When the rows aligned
something resembling "The Street" was audible but through augmentation
and diminution the lines never seemed to be at the same spot so the
melody was nearly lost. Above the Aladdin melody was also
disappearing, it had lost it's simple jazzy flavor and was being
heavily buried in ornamentation, it had become nearly dictatorial in
determining the rhythm and all the chords were following it.
She needed to add another melody, something more pure, something to
escape the growing complexity and pain that the other lines were
creating so she tried to insert another, but she didn't have enough
fingers. The third melody was indistinguishable from the rest, she
couldn't accent it enough or even get all the notes with all her other
movements. Yet something had to be added, the music would just become
chaos otherwise, a jumble of random noise. It needed a unifier, or
perhaps an escape.
She was hardly even aware when she started to sing softly but clearly
over the noise she was making with her hands.
"Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
How can you jubliate,
Sitting in cages,
Never taking wing?
Outside the sky waits,
Beckoning, beckoning,
Just beyond the bars.
How can you remain,
Staring at the rain,
Maddened by the stars?
How is it you sing anything?
How is it you sing?"
The rhythm wasn't aligned with the Disney tune and the harmonics
weren't directed by the atonal bass. Like ragtime the intent of this
voice was to escape the control of time and the chaos of the piano,
and it was working.
"Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale,blackbird,
How is it you sing?
Whence comes this melody constantly flowing?
Is it rejoicing or merely halloing?
Are you discussing or fussing
Or simply dreaming?
Are you crowing?
Are you screaming?"
The chaos was building accelerating, trying to drag the third melody
into it. Trying to destroy the last remnants of continuity.
"Ringdove and robinet,
Is it for wages,
Singing to be sold?
Have you decided its
Safer in cages,
Singing when youre told?"
The chaotic ascension had slowed but for some reason tears were
flowing down her cheeks.
"My cage has many rooms,
Damask and dark.
Nothing there sings,
Not even my lark.
Larks never will, you know,
When theyre captive.
Teach me to be more adaptive."
You can't adapt, you just need to leave. You can be free, just walk
away and leave it all behind.
"Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
Teach me how to sing.
If I cannot fly,
Let me sing."
All three melodies could be heard for the last few moments of the
piece. A triadic resolution was still impossible, so it ended in a
second inversion ninth chord of the tonic. However, in comparison to the
rest of the piece, that was consonant.
Finally finished, she sat there staring at the keys and down at her
hands. The tears had stopped but her cheeks were still damp. She knew
couldn't have done that, she didn't have the skill. Hell, she didn't
even know how to write down what she'd done. All she could do was
stare at her hands and at the keys, and wonder.
So, stop by for a drink, a bite to eat or just to shoot the breeze.
-----
-In Memory of all the veterans from all Clubs who have passed on
She'd been trying to fit in time to practice every time she was
completely alone. She'd even bought a hundred dollar keyboard for her
room, but she couldn't get the feel of anything, she could only
practice notes. She knew that she wasn't that good but she needed to
play enough so that she didn't decay even further and the lounge was
empty. The people in the bar probably wouldn't even hear her as long
as she kept everything quiet.
She ran through her scales and all her pieces easily at low dynamic
levels, with the lid and the soft pedal down. The tuning wasn't bad,
it hadn't been tuned since she arrived, but it was rarely used so it
was keeping it's pitch fairly well.
She was almost ready to get up to leave when an idea struck her. She
started playing a simple but familiar melody, "A Whole New World," she
hadn't heard it much since she was a kid but after a monophonic
run-through she had it in her head and she could play it well enough.
In the bass she started another familiar melody, this one a musical
theater piece "On the Street Where you Live." She didn't play this
melody in it's original setting or mood in the least bit, she even
modified some of the intervals to create a malevolent, hunting sound.
She placed this melody in the bass line while she played a jazzed up
version of "World" in the upper treble reaches. In between she started
adding harmonic filler, very jazzy in style and matching with the
melody closest to it so the top stayed light and the bottom stayed
dark, but the middle created an atmosphere of grey.
The music kept getting more complex and building louder, the piano was
starting to resonate through the building and she'd long since
forgotten about the soft pedal. The lower line was staying as dark as
she intended but it had changed into two separate tone-rows that were
being played outside the time signature. When the rows aligned
something resembling "The Street" was audible but through augmentation
and diminution the lines never seemed to be at the same spot so the
melody was nearly lost. Above the Aladdin melody was also
disappearing, it had lost it's simple jazzy flavor and was being
heavily buried in ornamentation, it had become nearly dictatorial in
determining the rhythm and all the chords were following it.
She needed to add another melody, something more pure, something to
escape the growing complexity and pain that the other lines were
creating so she tried to insert another, but she didn't have enough
fingers. The third melody was indistinguishable from the rest, she
couldn't accent it enough or even get all the notes with all her other
movements. Yet something had to be added, the music would just become
chaos otherwise, a jumble of random noise. It needed a unifier, or
perhaps an escape.
She was hardly even aware when she started to sing softly but clearly
over the noise she was making with her hands.
"Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
How can you jubliate,
Sitting in cages,
Never taking wing?
Outside the sky waits,
Beckoning, beckoning,
Just beyond the bars.
How can you remain,
Staring at the rain,
Maddened by the stars?
How is it you sing anything?
How is it you sing?"
The rhythm wasn't aligned with the Disney tune and the harmonics
weren't directed by the atonal bass. Like ragtime the intent of this
voice was to escape the control of time and the chaos of the piano,
and it was working.
"Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale,blackbird,
How is it you sing?
Whence comes this melody constantly flowing?
Is it rejoicing or merely halloing?
Are you discussing or fussing
Or simply dreaming?
Are you crowing?
Are you screaming?"
The chaos was building accelerating, trying to drag the third melody
into it. Trying to destroy the last remnants of continuity.
"Ringdove and robinet,
Is it for wages,
Singing to be sold?
Have you decided its
Safer in cages,
Singing when youre told?"
The chaotic ascension had slowed but for some reason tears were
flowing down her cheeks.
"My cage has many rooms,
Damask and dark.
Nothing there sings,
Not even my lark.
Larks never will, you know,
When theyre captive.
Teach me to be more adaptive."
You can't adapt, you just need to leave. You can be free, just walk
away and leave it all behind.
"Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
Teach me how to sing.
If I cannot fly,
Let me sing."
All three melodies could be heard for the last few moments of the
piece. A triadic resolution was still impossible, so it ended in a
second inversion ninth chord of the tonic. However, in comparison to the
rest of the piece, that was consonant.
Finally finished, she sat there staring at the keys and down at her
hands. The tears had stopped but her cheeks were still damp. She knew
couldn't have done that, she didn't have the skill. Hell, she didn't
even know how to write down what she'd done. All she could do was
stare at her hands and at the keys, and wonder.