by reynold d. philipsek
For the past two years (while I was engaged with the filming and distribution of the “A Life Well Played” documentary), I was also busy putting together an album of what I could accurately call a true distillation of my musical oeuvre.
This entailed not only the development of new pieces, but the remodeling of older music that could benefit from a new approach.
This is that album. It has become clear to me that my personal taste is defined not only by my idiosyncrasies and melodic and harmonic predilections, but my desire for concision based on brevity and clarity. I am, I suppose, a sort of minimalist which probably explains my admiration for Anton Webern. The melodic and harmonic side of my nature is influenced by Ravel and Monk. This may not be readily apparent but it is, none the less, the case.
The liner note on the CD sleeve gives a fuller description of the overall concept.
As I have said before, “I have suffered for this music; now it’s your turn.”
Reynold (summer of 2017)
By reynold d. philipsek
I was busy whispering a detailed explanation of Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of the “Will” into the eager ear of a young lady in the backseat of my 56′ Ford when it happened. Believe me, it took quite a jolt to disengage my attention at that exact moment. After all, I was only 18 years old and my red corpuscles were pounding out four to a bar like Gene Krupa in overdrive. But even through the steamed-up windows it was clear to see. I was in love.
“What is that?” I shrieked as I jumped into the front seat and turned up the volume of the car radio. “Who is that guitar player? I love it.”
When the song ended the CBC (Canadian Broadcast Corporation) announcer proclaimed it was Jango Rinehart. I searched through the glove box to find a pen or pencil to jot down the name.
The very next day I piloted my Ford 70 miles due south to a section of Minneapolis known as Dinky Town to rummage through the record bins.
An indolent clerk peered up from his intense perusal of a catalog displaying every model and type of hookah known to civilization just long enough to correct me on the name with a condescending sneer. “The name is spelled like this,” he said, as he scrawled Django Reinhardt onto a coffee-stained napkin.
Armed with several Django records, I began my study of his fretwork. The music was a bit old-timey for my taste at that time and songs like “The Sheik of Araby” didn’t exactly turn my crank but the guitar playing was unlike anything I had ever heard.
There are watershed moments in every life and this was one for me. To say Django influenced my music would be complete understatement. I still listen to him daily and play his music every week. All these years later, I can’t even remember the girl’s name.