Concert Review – Miles Davis (1989)

 

 

 

One way to experience a work of art or a piece of music is to be completely innocent and receptive, and be aware, in effect, of how your body, mind, emotions, and spirit are transformed. You can essentially become the work and describe your experience. Describe the effect of this performance on your body, mind, and emotions.
A live performance can be a chance for the performer (and composer) to enter into communication with the audience. To what extent do you feel the performer or performers responded to what was happening in the room during the performance? (Maybe they didn’t!) Do you feel they were intimate and giving or simply going through the motions? Did they seem to be in familiar territory or were they “going for it,” digging deep into the material and discovering something as they played?
The performer’s state of consciousness has an effect on what is communicated. Did you feel the performer and/or conductor was emotional? intellectual? expanded? contracted? transported? fluid? enjoying? at ease? What were your clues? Were your clues physical, musical, or intuitive?
What visual elements contributed to the performance? If there was a conductor or bandleader, how did that influence your experience?
In the playing, was there sensitivity and variety in the dynamics? Did the tempo seem satisfying? Was the performer comfortable with periods of silence or very low volume? Did you feel that the music seemed to arise out of silence or was it purely active? If it was an ensemble, were the performers listening or communicating with each other? Was it different during solos (if any)? Was vocal music a part of the performance? If so, what qualities of voice were part of the style?
What musical forms or structures did you notice? Was there a good balance of repetition and contrast in these pieces? What aspects were inventive or surprising? Which elements were attractive–rhythm, harmony, melody, instrumentation? If any of the elements bothered you, why? If you were already familiar with any of the pieces or players, how did this performance differ from what you have heard? Why do you think the performer chose these pieces?
How did you react to any improvisation? Did it thrill you? Bother you? Why? Did it seem to transport the player? What about the other players? Could you continue to recognize the basic melody or parts of it? Did the music come to life or die during solos?
While you are there, think about some of the typical concert conventions. Why do you think people clap? How do you think that affects the performer and audience?
How did your expectations affect your experience? Did you feel different or changed in some way after the performance? Would you recommend this performer or any of the music to someone else?
How did having awareness of the aspects above affect your experience or enjoyment? If this is your second or third concert for this class, is your answer to this any different from what it was for the previous concert? If you have attended both jazz and classical or popular music concerts for this assignment, did this approach work well for both?

Miles Davis (1989)

Sample Solution

Paris is many things: a romantic city, a cultural hotspot, and the source of inspiration for innumerable artists, singers, and poets. It’s also a spot where jazz trumpeter Miles Davis had a special relationship for more than 40 years. Davis’ first trip abroad was to Paris, and it was one of the final big places he played in before his death on September 28, 1991. A new exhibition at the Musée de la Musique honors the bond between musician and city. Davis, then 22, traveled to Paris in 1949 as part of a quintet that featured pianist Tadd Dameron.

 

My Earliest Memory

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First recollections of oneself can be effortlessly mistaken for manufactured recollections made by seeing old pictures, films, and hearing stories identified with one’s very own history. This is the situation for me: I have seen such a significant number of home films, heard such huge numbers of tales about myself, and seen such a significant number of pictures about my youth, I don’t know for certain what my first memory is in reality. Since I can’t pinpoint my first memory precisely, I will unfurl a progression of recollections that were the most punctual in my adolescence.

trees in windI recollect around evening time glancing through the huge glass windows of our front room at the tremendous pine trees and douglas fir trees, which brushed against our white fence. The trees would influence once in a while fiercely in the breeze, as it was basic in Seattle around evening time. I would watch the trees move, accepting to see many alarming and unusual shapes framing in obscurity, as though the trees were alive in a cognizant manner. The trees would move into the kinds of beasts my creative mind conjured up. I would inform my mom concerning the shapes and structures, yet as a typical mother would do, she attempted to quiet me down rather than cooperate with my ghostly obsession.

Another sharp early memory of mine was the point at which I analyzed my body. I was interested, as most kids may be, about the surface and type of the body we are given during childbirth. Since the beginning, I had four activities: two open heart medical procedures, and two hernia medical procedures. I would feel my scars, which scale up my chest and travel close to my crotch as though they were scenes, consumed into my skin until age would blur them away. Other than scars, I would savor over the littlest of points of interest about my eyes, which have hazel lines dashing away from the understudies. I would look at my life state through my eyes: I could perceive how I was all in all through them. My hands were likewise a state of interest for me: my left hand is altogether littler than my correct hand in light of medical procedures. Looking at them was and still is somewhat of a fixation of mine.

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I figured out how to ride a bike very early, however I don’t recollect the specific age. My dad was an expert cyclist at a certain point, and he needed his child to be sharp in the game too. Be that as it may, I recollect my first endeavor to ride a bike without preparing wheels finishing shockingly and entertainingly. Out on the central avenue alongside our home, where there were basically no vehicles driving around in those days because of less populace, I began OK on a little kid bicycle. My equalization was fine from the beginning, however then I got overexcited and lost my parity, in the long run crushing into our post box. In spite of the fact that my father was worried about my wellbeing from the start, after he saw that nothing genuine had transpired, he chuckled decisively and was making jokes about me. I didn’t feel disheartened—actually, I was snickering along following a couple of moments.

I have a lot progressively dispersed recollections that could consider first recollections, despite the fact that they are blended in with my impressions from watching home films, seeing pictures, and hearing anecdotes about my adolescence. We may not know our first memory for certain, yet once we attempt to uncover it, the world we lived in as a youngster pours through the perspective of visual idea, bringing back the air of this time into the present minute, similar to an incense smoke that delicately twists around our present detects.

exposition about existence, article design, chronicled essa

 

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