If
you walk up Copenhagen's Nørregade from, say, the national museum with its
relics from the days when more than one god watched over Denmark, you pass
through the copper-topped New Square and Old Square where Søren Kirkegaard used
to live. Continuing up towards the northern gate of the old town you pass on
your right a four or five story building which housed the old bookshop,
Munksgaard. When I came to Denmark, I worked there for some years, learning
what being Danish was about.
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Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Once over, lightly. by John von Daler
A
musician from Brazil was staying for a while in Denmark. He had befriended some
colleagues here and arrangements had been written: cool Brazilian piano jazz
with strings, brass, bass and drums. Twelve musicians aching to record but
without a cent to our names.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Breaking News: by John von Daler
SouthCity's Auction House
Sells "Life's but a walking shadow" for 300 million Euro's.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
An old Story about young Grapes by John von Daler
An old friend walked through Europe from north to south and back again in the course of three years in the 1930's. Many stories came out of that trip. Although those stories are not mine, my friend is dead; I do not think he would mind me telling one or two.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
The Proud Pride by John von Daler
I've
played in Denmark with quite a few famous people. Not that I am famous myself;
my kind of renown makes people elbow each other on subways, trying to figure
out where they've seen me.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
The King of à la Carte by John von Daler
When
I was a kid in Oklahoma, we traveled a lot: Mexico, Colorado, Texas, Florida.
At some point on these vacations I got a reputation for never getting sick and
for always getting the best food. My family had a vacation rule: after a few
minutes of eating we passed our plates on to the right. This was our way of
tasting more than one local specialty. But if you had ordered something really
good, it was a pain. The best place to sit at our vacation dinner table was to
the right of me.
Monday, June 24, 2013
The Wild, Wild West (2) by John von Daler
The
John Wayne discotheque interior looked at night the way
other night clubs look in the daytime, worn down, tarnished,
colorless and gloomy. The small mirrors revolving from the middle of the
ceiling sent off sparks of light that ignited nothing and no one, but seemingly
caused many of the customers to wince inadvertently. We found a table for six
and Thor asked what we would like to drink. He left to place the order and we
leaned back tentatively in our wooden chairs, smiling
politely.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
The Wild, Wild West (1) by John von Daler
We
arrived early in the afternoon in Esbjerg and instead of going to the hotel
drove directly to the little music bar where our concert was to take place that
evening.
Esbjerg
struck me as a no nonsense kind of town. The long, straight streets got right
to the point and headed directly toward the harbor. Between square unadorned
buildings a sea breeze swept through bare avenues bearing the scents of fish
and factories. These people got things done to a fare-thee-well.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
#Imera by John von Daler
In
Greenland they have many wonderful things. Take imera. I've heard the Inuits say many of their own words without
having any idea what they were talking about. But imera reached out and grabbed me. It means maybe or perhaps. It
could have been dreamed up by Edgar Allan Poe. In Spanish they say Quizás.
Friday, June 21, 2013
By ear and by heart (2) by John von Daler
We
were waiting in a television studio for Oscar #Peterson to show up to play the
piano in Palle #Mikkelborg's suite. One hour into our rehearsal Oscar's nephew
arrived. Large, dark, and imposing, the young man looked so much like a
mini-Oscar that you almost suspected the gods of acclimating us slowly to
greatness. He had come to inspect the facilities, the piano, the bench, the
lighting. The nephew spoke a while with the cameramen and lighting crew and
seemed to reach small agreements with them. Finding everything in order he
called to have his uncle sent on in, and indeed fifteen minutes later the real
Oscar walked in.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
By ear and by heart (1) by John von Daler
Palle #Mikkelborg had gotten everyone together, a little big band, my strings, a
choir, and a rhythm group headed by Niels-Henning #Ørsted #Pedersen. Palle had
written wonderful music in his own way, with light behind the clouds. We were
forty or fifty people in a television studio in Copenhagen waiting for the
great Oscar Peterson to arrive so we all could play Palle's suite together.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
An island memory by John von Daler
Legend has it that on the day of his arrival on #Christians Island, Henning #Køie, the great painter, composer, writer, and musician, went down to the beach and painted a picture of the island and the sea. Every year for at least a half-century he repeated this labor of love. I know because he told me.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
A Tale of Two Wheels by John von Daler
Karen
Blixen once said that coffee is to the women of Denmark what the word of God is
to the soul. If I may add something to this comparison: and what my bicycle is
to me.
Monday, June 17, 2013
No Strings Attached by John von Daler
I've
seen all kinds of violins - and I've played them too: Chagall violins floating up
in the clouds, Disney violins dancing all in a row, Dali violins all shrunken
and creepy, Ponty el-violins like colored lollypops, Scandinavian fiddles
ornamented like a mountain bride and one dark, old Romanian gypsy violin that played
a Ceausescu blues with only one hair from the bow drawn back and forth across
the strings.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
The Hills are Alive by John von Daler
You
could say that Oklahoma had not prepared me very well for #Austria. My summer
vacations in the Southwest had all melted together into something like a scene
from a musical, the cast in jeans and calico belting out "Surrey with a
Fringe on Top": horses, water, grass, dust, sun, bicycles, hamburgers and
lemonade. Mom's territory. Now you are probably thinking that Austria, Dad's
place, just had to turn into "Sound of Music". Sorry. We landed
someplace between Amadeus and Arnold Schoenberg. End of comparison.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
A Penitent by John von Daler
The following punishment was meted out by the
authorities and subsequently transcribed two hundred times by a delinquent
writer incarcerated at a top security Writers Correction Facility, the
so-called Ballpoint Penitentiary:
Friday, June 14, 2013
A Viper in the Bubbly by John von Daler
Two
Roman soldiers crossed swords over the entranceway to the old theater. As I
went through and under this belligerent welcome, one of them started a rhythmic
tattoo on the other's helmet with the edge of his sword. Soon the doorway was
swinging and their bare, hairy legs were toeing a kind of jazzy jig beneath
their leather tunics.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
#Bruegel for Beginners by John von Daler
We drove all day from Copenhagen to Flemish Belgium, switching drivers, sleeping, talking. Like some army of the Middle Ages we crossed over the Jutlanders, the Saxons and finally the land of Charlemagne to reach our destination. Our little, all-conquering Faroese orchestra complete with poetess/soloist would be performing in various towns in this land of the great king - and of the Bruegels.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
Hanging out in Denmark by John von Daler
Ten
lessons or so it took to teach me to sail well enough for a solo attempt. My
teacher had guided me through the ups and downs and ins and outs and now I was
ready. I was about 25 years old and we were in southern Denmark at a summer
house on the coast.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Season's Greetings by John von Daler
When
I first came to Denmark I spent a lot of time on an island called Langeland in
a little town called #Rudkøbing. The sea water around the island was grayish
green and the skies fleeced with drifting white clouds. Little ferries puffed
and putted in and out of the harbor with their red and white flags flapping
from the masts. Dufy would have loved it.
Friday, June 7, 2013
On and Off by John von Daler
I
walked my two kids to the bus. Today was the first day of school and I was
going to follow them on my bicycle to make sure they got off at the right
place.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
#Eureka Springs Eternal by John von Daler
My
maternal grandfather preached the Methodist faith
throughout most of the South and Southwest USA, where he
was known for his magnetism and his strong beliefs. When I
first became aware of him he had curly white hair and
the jowly good looks of a former charmer.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
My best review. by John von Daler
Some years ago I was invited to compose the music for an intimate little play written for and played by people who were #deaf.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
An ox moron by John von Daler
I asked a #Greenlander about his favorite food.
We were having a beer together and looking out
at the snow from a house on a hill in Nuuk. Ravens
landed every once in a while on the roof above our
window and shook down some silken showers of
powdered snow. He said:
Monday, June 3, 2013
A palate for pale palettes by John von Daler
To foreigners Denmark often seems too subtle.
Mild. Pastel. Quiet.
Mild. Pastel. Quiet.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Saturday, June 1, 2013
A Moving Story by John von Daler
I should have had a reminders list when I moved from
Tulsa to Norwalk.
Tulsa to Norwalk.
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