A quiet Sunday morning here in San Francisco. Clear, bright sunlight streaming through my window. A small list a chores and errands tacked to my refrigerator. A pot of English Breakfast tea steeping in my kitchen. And Bach blasting from my speakers . . .
When I was a very little boy - and the world had just become too much of me to understand - I would retreat to my bedroom and listen to my record player. You remember those enormous record players - the ones about the same size as a large dining room sideboard? Opening the lid of that giant piece of electronics was almost like opening the door to Narnia. I could drop in a round disc of vinyl and music would magically pour out and transport me to any one of a million different places.
One morning, when I was around ten, I discovered in a pile of my parent's unused LP's - a copy of Albert Schweitzer playing the organ works of JS Bach. I can still remember listening to it for the first time. It was magical. It was math. Simple and complex all at the same time. And it remains on of my very favourites.
The Prelude in G Major BWV 541 . . .
and "The Fugue" . . .