Colours: Neutral Weird Reload

Anecdotical notes about the play list

(Back to first part)

One of the pieces I mention in my play list is the violin concerto (1940) by Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978). It contains a chord change which causes a note to get a different function in the piece.

I found I e-mailed about it in December 1996 (this is now practically 11 years ago) with fellow-translator G. Daniel Bugel, and with Jan Willem Dormolen in October 1998. I though it was later than that, and also with other people.

In de morning of 16 November 2007, something happened that could not have been a coincidence: as usual, I clicked on an internet radio station, the same station in the Northern Alentejo region that I listen to quite often. But it didn't come through, and MediaPlayer got stuck. This happens once in a while. I killed the MediaPlayer process using ctrl-alt-delete.
So I resorted to the classical Portuguese station again, one which I hadn't heard much for quite some time. The night before, half asleep, I did hear psalms by Sweelinck, a cappella, in meantone temperament, as was explained in the programme on Dutch radio (not via internet). Also quite interesting.

So that classical station Antena 2 did work, I heard a violin, and I thought “that sounds familiar, I'm sure the next note will be like, you know ...”, and it was! Ravel? Beethoven? No, Khachaturian. In fact it was EXACTLY this special fragment, at the end of the second movement, that I wrote about so many years ago.

I thought: “This cannot be a coincidence, it must be an omen. Of what, I don't know yet. Perhaps I should quit translating for some time and write more about music and other subjects that interest me?”

Meanwhile I have indeed moved the raw details of the description to a separate page, and I am determined to turn that into a proper web page soon.

Yet, I do not believe in omens and portents, because I know telepathy doesn't exists either. I know that because of what happened to me recently:
On 25 December at 14:42 I suddenly saw a mental image of my son (who was snowboarding somewhere in the North of Italy), covered under snow as if caught by an avalanche. I felt worried and sent him a text message. About an hour later I got the reply: the snow was only 60 cm thick and he was doing fine.