This song basically epitomizes everything I love about Ben Folds Five.  I'd love to upload it for you, but I can't seem to locate the CD that has it--to the best of my knowledge, it was only released on a CD called No Boundaries:  A Benefit for the Kosovar Refugees.  I bought the CD for Pearl Jam's version of "Last Kiss," then a few years later after my musical tastes had broadened I discovered rare tracks from a lot of artists I had grown to enjoy over, including BFF.  This song remains one of my favorites from the band and for whatever reason, it's just one of those songs that always gets me. 

If you care to hear it, check it out here; just search "Leather Jacket" and make sure it's by Ben Folds Five.

Had a dream that you were in
The leather jacket that didn't fit
Until we split in two

Half of you turned into glue
And half of me latched onto you
Under the summer moon

All for a leather jacket,
We were so indecisive
We hadn't really thought it through
'Cause we were so in love and,
And things like that don't happen,
And things like that don't slip away...

But sometimes they do.

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The only course keeping me from graduation is piano--I'm making up for the three semesters of piano lessons that were spent on guitar instead.  A summer of piano, and then BAM!  I have a music degree.  Exciting, yes?

Except I has a battle, and it is not a battle I'm winning.  (And I'm not talking about my battle with the urge to use lolspeak all the time.)  It's called Chopin's Ballade No. 3 in A-flat, and it's mostly destroying me.  I'm about 6-pages into the total 13-pages, and out of those six pages I can play 1/2 of one decently. 

Sight-reading is my serious weakness, which makes the process of working through a piece as massive as a ballade even slower and more laborious than it is already.  Because of this the good news is that most of those 6 pages are already memorized; the bad news is, I pretty much can't play anything till it is memorized.  This is why my piano lessons are typically characterized by really weak starts in the semester followed by surprising bursts of progress towards the middle of the term.

Here's a video I love of the Chopin Ballade No. 3--if nothing else, because the man's adorable and knows how to choose a coat (seriously, nothing is sexier on a man than tails).  But you know, also because he's amazing.  Home boy should be a conductor--look at those facial expressions!  He's into it!

Zimerman plays Chopin Ballade No. 3

Alright, I've watched some Chopin, I've chowed down on the local gas station's chicken sandwich ("Clux Delux--More Clux for Your Bucks!"), I've blogged... all that's left to do is--gulp--practice.

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Hey!

I've been reading!

It's that delightful time at the library when ABSOLUTELY NOTHING HAPPENS and one is able to spend the better part of a shift reading.  ...I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

So, as if you cared, and as if I was actually maintaining what started out to be a music-and-literature-themed blog, here's what I've been reading.

The Kite Runner

A Thousand Splendid Suns

Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain

Armageddon in Retrospect

(In other news, I've learned that reading multiple books from multiple genres rather than focusing on one book at a time silences that nasty habit my brain has of narrating my life in the voice/style of whatever writer I'm reading.  ...Someone wanna do a case study on that crap?)

I have three books lined up to read next, assuming the library doesn't yield some other distracting treasure--which, of course, it will.  Coming soon!

The Golden Compass

Because I bought the book at a garage sale and it's been sitting in my car for two months...

Twilight (The Twilight Saga, Book 1)

Because everyone and their mama is in love with this series, and I suspect I should follow the crowd...

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (Coyote Canyon Press Classics)

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If you had to write your autobiography in 6 words, what would you write?
Submitted by mitzie.

I loved, feared, and respected music.

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The "weezing" in my standard username for everything, "silverweezingbus," comes from Weezer.  It's things like this that make me proud:

Pork and Beans

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Remember this?

IT'S HAPPENING, PEOPLE.

Joie is going to see Wicked in Los Angeles on Thursday, May 22nd.

...Excitement cannot be put into type.  Except by saying, "OMFGZ I'M SO EXCITEEEEEDDDDD!!!11!1ONEONE!!!111!"

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Courtesy o' my pal/brother from another mother Brian (the one that married my best friend, not the one I date).  And really, courtesy of a Mister Ludwig van Beethoven:

Joie Molden 1

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My senior recital... was basically everything I hoped it would be.  I can't even begin to describe it thoroughly or accurately.  I went to my early classes, but skipped wind ensemble to go in pursuit of more pedal-appropriate shoes (the ones I had, though adorable, were a slight distraction to me given that they're about 4 inches tall and can make tricky pedaling a bigger challenge).  I was expecting this trip to be a bit of a waste of time (although I recognized the important therapeutic benefits of going shoe shopping to calm oneself) when, after just 15 minutes at the shopping center, I walk into Belk, find the absolute perfect pair of shoes:  black, strappy, cute, short and not-pointy heel, and OH BTW ON SALE FOR $20.  They had two sizes left:  6 and 7 1/2; my size 8-8 1/2 feet slid in comfortably and though the heel bordered on the edge of the shoe, all was well in Toe Land and Comfortville.   A SERENDIPITOUS SHOE EXPERIENCE, INDEED.

Okay, that part I can begin to describe thoroughly and accurately.  What I can't describe is what it's like wondering if when you get out on stage, you'll forget how to play the piano altogether; what it's like standing slightly off-stage, listening to more and more people file in (we had 90 programs and apparently ran out); what it's like as the stage manager calls up to the whoever and gives the order to cut the house lights; what it's like to walk out onto a brightly lit stage with the most gorgeous piano you've ever laid eyes on while all of your college friends and a surprising number of your high school ones are clapping and waiting for you to play it.  I can't describe well sitting down and the tremendous force of will it takes to make yourself just start (a problem vocalists or instrumentalists may not generally have, as they're just sort of shoved out of the airplane by their accompanist), or that truly magical feeling when you overcome your nerves, remember how much you love the music, and manage to start enjoying the experience.  Dare I say it?  I had a BLAST.  Performance anxiety Joie, the girl whose lack of formal piano education up till college has given her some sort of inferiority complex, loved giving a piano half-recital. 

And now, what I really can't describe:  sitting backstage and listening to your amazingly talented peers play 30 minutes of music you composed.  That's all I can say, because it was an experience to which words just don't do justice.  There are few times in my entire life that I've been so happy.  And may I just say, the second bow thing?  Pretty much the coolest perk of a recital ever.  "Look at me and clap!  Continue clapping so that you may look at me again!"  Magic, baby!

I had to get all that out.  I'm so thankful for this amazing, once in a lifetime opportunity.  I spent literally four years waiting for that day to come, and never thought it would get here.  Now that it's over, I'm a mixture of sad and relieved... but I don't think I could've hoped for a better overall experience.

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I am Joie's Raging Inability to Sleep.  (And Joie, apparently, is still reading or at least thinking about reading Fight Club.)

For the past several weeks, I've been mostly unable to go back to sleep if I'm woken up after about 8 in the morning.  (Okay, I realize lots of people need to be up before that time--I do, too, some days--but I'm a college student, and damn it all, I reserve my right to sleep until 3 in the afternoon whenever I feel like it.)  It's... exceptionally annoying.  But as soon as I wake up inadvertently or am woken up by someone/thing, my head starts going, making a list of what needs to be done, and any hope of remaining blissfully asleep is gone.

Apparently in the days leading up to my recital, this time has been pushed back to 5 in the freaking morning.  No less, on a Sunday.  I give you the big DOUBLE-YOU TEE EFF, brain.  Brian (...a surprising juxtaposition of two words only a letter swap apart [holy shit I know how to use "juxtaposition" at 5 in the morning?!]) called me after returning home from his very late gig, and as soon as I got off the phone my brain started thinking, "You're really not comfortable enough with that Beethoven sonata yet.  You should practice." 

Ok, Brain, I thought back, we'll practice today.  A lot. 
"We should probably go through it, I dunno, a lot of times in a row," nagged Brain. 
Yes, I agree.  We'll get right on that today and do it every day until my recital, Brain.  I proceeded to go back to sleep.
"...Joie?" pestered Brain.  "I think Brian called you before this last time and you said something really stupid out of sleepiness.  I can't remember what it was.  What was it?"
~ a call to Brian to confirm I in fact, did not answer the first time he called and did not say anything stupid related to the dream I was having about Coda, Heather's new baby bunny ~
There, Brain.  Nothing said.  No bunnies mentioned.  Good-night.
"You have to wear a dress and heels today."
Irrelevant information, Brain.  Good-night.
"...You still have to name those three movements of the flute and marimba piece, you know.  I wonder if anyone's at the practice rooms now?"
...Okay, I'm up.

This is the part where I assure you I'm not insane.  But I think it was Nick who noted his affinity for my I-woke-up-ridiculously-early-and-can't-go-back-to-sleep-posts, and this one goes out to him.

Off I go to the music building.  At 5:25.  In the morning.  On a Sunday.

Edited to Add:  Ah, and if you didn't figure it out, I passed my piano jury.  Much drama was involved, including my almost failing it after the first piece I played--a Bach prelude and fugue, bless the man--but after agreeing to drop that piece and recovering pretty well considering how upset I was, they passed me!  I'm glad to be rid of it, honestly.

Edit #2:  The only thing more annoying than waking up at 5 in the morning with an urge to practice is going to the music building at 5:30 in the morning and discovering one's security card apparently won't let you in that early.  And that Captain McResponsible on the University Police has decided that maybe he'll go ahead and do his job this time and lock every door in the building.  A grrr on everyone!!!

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Have I talked about Randy Newman?  Yes, no, maybe?  Well, if not, it's time, my friends (four commas in one sentence?!).  (And then four punctuation marks?!)  (Edit:  Um, aka 3 commas.  I'm a freakin' music major, shut up.)

I love Randy Newman.  Not like.  Love.  I would tell Randy Newman I am in love with him, it's that serious.  I realize lots of people enjoy making fun o' the Newman--yes, yes, I understand, he has a silly voice--but his songs!  His orchestration!  His amazing talent!

Now here's why I suck:  I honestly only have one Randy Newman album, and oh dear... it's a "Best Of," which of course makes me a giant poseur.  It won't stop me from raving about him!  Based on everything I've heard, I think Randy Newman is one of my favorite songwriters of all time.  (A brief High Fidelity moment:   My Top 3 Songwriters:  Ben Folds, Randy Newman, Paul Simon.  In no order.)  I'm pretty positive I'm one of about maybe 14 people in their early twenties who enjoy Randy Newman, and I think that's a shame.  I bring to you two songs I can't stop listening to, "Marie," and one whose premise is just amazing and whose execution is equally so, "Sail Away."  (Furthermore, I freaking love the orchestration in the opening of Sail Away; nerd that I am, I plan on breaking it down soon and figuring out how to replicate that sound.)

Marie

Randy Newman

Sail Away

Randy Newman

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