More Roses and some music

Since I find that fairies somethings read my blog [see comment on previous post], I thought I'd photograph some other roses and print them too.

Sunday evening Rachel, Patrick and I went to a concert given by a local pianist billed as "an international recording artist" -- and, indeed, he had 15 CDs for sale. A much blown up photo of our hero sitting on the beach looking pensive, wearing a starchy but billowing white shirt set the tone. What did I expect? Not Andre Watts, maybe I sort of hoped for something Bobby Short-ish.

I knew he was not going to play classical music but his own compositions and music from movies and theatre. Could have been interesting. Wasn't. Everything suffered from his taste in arrangement which was saccharine and dependent on a heavy left hand and foot firmly holding down the pedal. Big gooey sound. He was fond of doing what he called "free flow" which other people might call noodling on the piano -- shapeless meandering in major keys. I call it self-indulgent and uninteresting. Ah, well w de rigeur at all performances.