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Interviews

Pete Malinverni

By Published: April 28, 2003

I view my role as musician much more as that of a vessel now, believing that my job is to prepare myself as an instrument, ready to deliver to the audience whatever music as may come to me.

"Music can name the unnamable and communicate the unknowable." —Leonard Bernstein

"Music is one of the fairest and most glorious gifts of God." —Martin Luther

"Do you know that our soul is composed of harmony?" —Leonardo da Vinci

To most jazz fans, the intimate connection between music and spirituality is simply assumed.

The aspiration of many jazz musicians to place both themselves and their listeners in direct connection with the divine has been well documented over the years, perhaps most notably with John Coltrane whose music was both unabashed praise and ecstatic thanksgiving to a God of grace and love.

Furthermore, many musicians express the feeling, if not outright belief, that they are merely receivers, or antennae, resonating to a voice that originates from something deep yet residing outside of and beyond themselves.

Pianist Pete Malinverni is certainly a musician who feels that inspiration flows through him as opposed to from him.

Since arriving in New York in 1981, Pete Malinverni has established himself as a highly respected performing musician in local, national, and international club and concert scenes. His well deserved reputation helped earn him an entry in the 1999 Biographical Encyclopedia of Jazz, as compiled by Ira Gitler and Leonard Feather. As an educator, he is in great demand, serving as Professor on the Jazz faculties of New York University, William Paterson University, and the Purchase Conservatory. Additionally, he has taught Jazz Appreciation to non-music majors at NYU, and Classical Ear Training at Purchase. In 1999 he was honored with NYU's Marc Crawford Jazz Educator Award, and has successfully presented seminars and master classes worldwide. In recent years he has begun to explore his talents as a writer on music, writing liner notes and contributing to periodicals such as The Piano Stylist and The Record Review. His fifth album, Of One Mind (Reservoir Music, 2000) was picked by All About Jazz as one of the Ten Best Recordings for 2001.

Pete Maliverni's sixth album as a leader, Autumn in New York was recently released by Reservoir Music and features longtime companions Dennis Irwin (bass) and Leroy Williams (drums).

Of this recording, AAJ correspondent Elliott Simon writes: 'With this, their fourth CD together, the players have gelled as a unit'this trio's playing from beginning to end shows them to be experienced partners who easily change moods, yielding a cohesive statement overall'By including new arrangements of timeless pieces written by native New Yorkers Jerome Kern and Harold Arlen alongside his original compositions, Malinverni inspires us to look forward while remembering our past.'

In anticipation of the premiere performance of his new suite for gospel choir and jazz quartet, entitled "Sing a New Song," All About Jazz invited Pete Malinverni to participate in the following interview, which he graciously consented to.

The premiere performance of 'Sing a New Song,' Pete Malinverni's new suite for gospel choir and jazz quartet, will be performed on Saturday, May 3 at 2:00 pm, at Devoe Street Baptist Church, 140 Devoe St., Williamsburgh, Brooklyn, NY. Admission is FREE. Further information can be obtained by phoning (718) 387-5075

All About Jazz: Would you please tell the AAJ readers about where you were born, raised, and what your earliest musical memories are?

Pete Malinverni: I was born in Niagara Falls, NY. At age 7 we moved to a small town near there called Lewiston, but for all intents and purposes I was raised in the Buffalo, Niagara Falls, Western New York region. It's a region which, at the time, was defined by the economic boom provided by the local industries, most of which had to do with the processing of chemicals in all the plants who located there for the cheap hydroelectric power made available by proximity to Niagara Falls. While my Dad and the fathers of most of my friends were employed in these plants, music was valued in the Italian-American heart, so my sister, April, and I were given piano lessons. I was six when I started, with a wonderful and tough teacher named Laura Copia. She's legendary up there, for her excellence in teaching and her passionate and big-hearted dedication to passing on what she knows. I studied classical piano with her until I was eighteen and left for music school. Of course my earliest musical memories revolve mostly around those lessons, but I also remember hearing my Mom sing as soloist in our church choir. It was a Pentecostal church, so I saw early on the easy association of music with the passions of people.

AAJ: What led you to choose piano as instrument of choice?

PM: There was gentleman in our church, Anthony DiGregorio, who led the church in singing every Sunday. Mr. DiGregorio had a friend who was looking to place his grand piano in a good home because he was moving to an apartment the size of which wouldn't accommodate a piano. The match was made, and it changed my life. People don't realize sometimes how large an effect even the seemingly smallest kindnesses can have. Anyway, lessons began right away.

AAJ: How would you describe your musical education? Formal? Informal? Both? Please elaborate.

PM: Certainly my lessons with Miss Copia were formal. We had a lesson each week, rain, shine or snow (a consideration up there in the snow belt). The work was very much European Classical in direction, and Miss Copia also gave me my early theory lessons.

I had a wonderful teacher in high school named Douglas Monroe who also gave me theory lessons, as well as taught me about the beauty of choral music. He was another very strict and passionate musician. As I look back now I see that it's always the teacher who cares enough to be tough who one remembers as having been the most effectual.

From high school I went on to the Crane School of Music in upstate New York. It was there I first heard jazz music, at that time sort of an outlaw form as far as the school was concerned. So my real education in jazz began, on the bandstand with my peers.

AAJ: Was there any watershed moment where you decided (or discovered) that you simply had to become a musician? Please elaborate.

PM: I mentioned Douglas Monroe earlier. During my senior year in high school the director of the concert wind ensemble was interested in performing Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue," and had plans to hire a soloist. Some of the musicians in that group, like clarinetist Laura Ardan and saxophonist Pat Perez, have gone on to great careers in music, so it was a serious ensemble. Mr. Monroe suggested that I be given the chance as piano soloist, and I took it, with both hands. I suddenly stopped spending all my time down at the gym and began stealing moments during the school day to practice the "Rhapsody." I was determined to learn and memorize it in time for the concert in April, and I did. I still remember the feeling of that accomplishment and of having the whole ensemble with me. I said, "This is for me."

AAJ: When did your first exposure to jazz occur? What was your reaction?

PM: At the Crane School I was walking down the hall one day and heard music coming from a practice room. I opened the door—onto what turned out to be the rest of my life—and heard a quintet playing a form of music which was strong yet elegant, intricate yet ebullient, and I had to learn about it. It was, of course, jazz music. I'd had a lot of fun playing in a funk/rock band in high school with my cousin, a wonderfully lyrical guitarist named Paul Chiodo. We wanted to play music that felt that way, but we didn't know where to look, for vocabulary or colleagues. I knew I'd found it in jazz music.

AAJ: Who or what are your most profound sources for influence and inspiration? (this can include nonmusical items) Why or how do these influence and inspire you?

PM: As for music, the influences have been as profound as they have been many, running the gamut between players and composers, in many musical forms. Many of my teachers have inspired me, from those I've mentioned to Elena Belli, an amazing classical piano teacher in NYC and Anthony Newman, the famed composer and keyboardist with whom I studied piano and counterpoint while taking my Masters in Music from the Purchase Conservatory of Music. Of course, my musician colleagues continue to inspire me. The collaborative elements of jazz music require us to be open to each other in the give and take of improvisation. There is no substitute.

My greatest inspiration, though, is my family. My parents and sister have always been supportive of me, for which I'm grateful. And my son, Peter Luca, and stepson and daughter, Guss and Hayes, are a constant reminder of the importance of one's legacy—every moment on the bandstand and in the recording studio is important and is to be cherished. And my wife, Jody Sandhaus is a source of great strength. She is a musician too, a singer, so she understands the life and business of making music. As a collaborator she's also an inspiration, as can be heard on her own recordings.

AAJ: 1987 finds the release of your first recording, Don't Be Shy (Sea Breeze Records). What were the circumstances regarding the making of this?

PM: It was April 1987, and I had been playing some trio dates around NYC with Dennis Irwin and Mel Lewis. Most people were unaware, I think, of what a great trio drummer Mel was. He had a way with the brushes that I've never heard duplicated. Anyway, I booked Rudy Van Gelder's studio, and in we went. It was a memorable experience for me all around. I was producing the date, so I had to take care of all the business as well as decide on material, arrangements, etc. I designed the cover and wrote the liner notes too. I got Enid Farber to do the photos, which were excellent. I remember spending time with the people who made the packaging for both the LP and the cassette, and I spent quite a bit of time at the LP pressing plant. I learned more about ink and vinyl types than I ever wanted to know. Then I spent a few months shopping the tape around in hopes of getting a label to buy it. The bad news was I found only a company, Sea Breeze, who basically acted as a distributor, so I had to handle all the costs associated with the recording and production, but the good news is that I own the recording and so have complete control. I'm pleased to say the recording, with a couple of added tracks, has been leased for 2003 release as a CD in Japan. I would be happy to release it in this country as well when the right opportunity presents itself. Dennis and Mel played beautifully, Rudy was wonderful to work with, and I remain happy with the results today.

AAJ: As follow ups, what was the most difficult thing about making this recording? What was the most enjoyable? In retrospect, what did you learn from this experience that has proven to be of the most value in your career?

PM: I would say the most difficult thing about making "Don't Be Shy" was the part over which I had no control, and that was waiting for feedback and decisions from the various record companies I approached. I had gone to several record stores looking for piano trio recordings, noting the names and contact information of the record companies involved. Most of them are by now long gone, but at the time they were the whole ball game. I then began the long process of calling, writing and sending tapes to everyone. I still have the 3x5 cards on which I kept track of my communication with the principals at the labels. It was a good lesson in the business of music including handling rejection, always a part of the life of a freelance artist. It made my resolve stronger in the way fire tempers steel, and, as I said, I sure learned a lot about the business.

Really, the best part of the whole thing was the music. It was a magical day at Rudy Van Gelder's, for me a very special place. I had decided to record, as I have since then, as though on a live date, by sequencing the selections in the tentative order in which they would appear on the eventual recording, with no repeats until a "set" was completed. For that reason, the music flowed well, and the result is a relaxed, musical session. And of course that's the artifact which remains.

AAJ: Is this recording when you first met bassist Dennis Irwin? If not, what were the circumstances of your first meeting?

PM: As I said, "Don't Be Shy" captured a trio which had been performing live in New York. I first met and played with Dennis several years before at the Sag Harbor, NY home of saxophonist Hal McKusick. I was living out there on Long Island's East End at the time and had been playing and informally studying with Hal. Dennis came out for a gig and we met, after which I started calling Dennis for engagements in New York. I first played with Mel at the wedding of Joe Lovano and Judi Silvano, which was some party, by the way. Mel's groove was intoxicating, and I wanted more. Thereafter, whenever I had anything at all in the way of trio work I called Mel.

AAJ: Since 1993 you've served as church musician at the Devoe Street Baptist Church in Brooklyn, NY. How has this affected the way you play and compose?

PM: My stay as Minister of Music at Devoe Street has profoundly affected me in many ways, musical and otherwise. The pastor, Reverend Frederick C. Ennette, Sr., is a dear friend of long standing. When he got the church he asked me to come and help out initially while the church searched for a steady musician. It was after several weeks that it struck me that this was no longer a favor for a friend, but had become something I was looking forward to each week. It was then that the church offered me the position, and I was honored to do it. I play for all the congregational singing as well as direct the choir. Some of what we do on any given Sunday is music from current modern gospel artists and some is from the book of the Spirituals. I arrange everything for the voices I have. It's a small choir, between eight and twelve voices, but they are strong, dedicated beautiful singers

In recent years I've begun writing suites for gospel choir and jazz quartet, setting biblical text, mostly from the Psalms of David, to my own original music. We've been doing a new suite every year around Mother's Day, and this year is no exception. Last year we were joined by members from the combined choirs of the Concord Baptist Church of Christ in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant, bringing the number of voices to around 75. That was an experience I'll not soon forget. By now there's a lot of music, and my larger goal is to get this music recorded. Our yearly concerts usually also feature solo performance by the wonderful singer, Yvette Glover.

As I said, I've been affected greatly by my work at Devoe, spiritually as well as in my personal relationship with music itself. I view my role as musician much more as that of a vessel now, believing that my job is to prepare myself as an instrument, ready to deliver to the audience whatever music as may come to me. I like to say that music is the voice of God. This attitude carries over to the bandstand and the recording studio as well. To feel as though I am not ultimately responsible for the inspiration of the music allows me to relax and let the music flow. This removes much of the anxiety associated with performance, by the way. Besides my wife Jody who is one of my soloists, our seven-year-old son, Peter Luca, is there every Sunday too, and this is something which will have a warm and lasting effect on his life.

AAJ: Your first three albums were recorded with Rudy Van Gelder. What did you learn from working with him?

PM: Actually, my first four. In addition to "Don't Be Shy" and "This Time" and "A Very Good Year" for Reservoir, there was a self-produced 1989 quartet recording on Jody and my label, Saranac Records. Titled "The Spirit," it was Mel Lewis' last recording before his passing. Bassist Pat O'Leary and tenor saxophonist Ralph Lalama were also on that recording. Rudy Van Gelder is, of course, an institution, a well-earned status. He is an absolute professional and I've been honored to work with him, not only on my own dates but also on those of my wife, Jody Sandhaus. In fact we're due to go back this spring for Jody's newest date. The studio itself, designed by Rudy, has a wonderful native sound, and is a very comfortable and inspiring place to record. He's heard so much music that I trust his judgment with regard to matters of sound. Anything in the recording process which allows me to focus exclusively on the music is much appreciated, and Rudy's skillful care does that for me. I'm also moved by Rudy's constant desire to improve and update his skills. After all, he's Rudy Van Gelder, so he really wouldn't have to experiment with new technologies, but he really loves what he does and continues to move forward. That's a pretty good lesson.

AAJ: "This Time" (Reservoir Music) is your third recording but first of four with your current trio of bassist Dennis Irwin and drummer Leroy Williams. How did this trio come about?

PM: As I said earlier, I've known and played with Dennis since the 1980s, but my association with Leroy dates to the early 1990s. After Mel Lewis' passing I began to play quite a bit with Vernel Fournier, both in his trio and in mine, a period of a few years in which I learned much from this great drums master. We were slated to begin a steady engagement at New York's Smalls jazz club when Vernel had the stroke which effectively ended his playing career. I had heard and loved the playing of Leroy Williams, and was happy he was able to step into the job at Smalls. In the intervening years he's become a trusted friend and colleague. We've played several enjoyable duo dates together, in which I've come to know his playing even more intimately. This trio with Dennis and Leroy is a very comfortable and challenging place to be. Of course, as New York freelance musicians we each continue to pursue many of our own projects, but I always enjoy our many opportunities to play together.

AAJ: Your latest recording, 'Autumn in New York' (Reservoir Records) was recently released. What makes this different from your previous recordings?

PM: I guess there are several things which distinguish this recording. Of course, as with all recordings, one hopes that the music represents another step forward in one's musical development and contains new or perhaps more refined elements in terms of playing and composition. There are compositions on "Autumn in New York" which reflect my efforts with various compositional techniques such as counterpoint. I through-composed parts for the drums and bass which would lead to improvisations of a more horizontal, contrapuntal nature than is often the norm in jazz. Too often we look at the harmony as a vertical element and not as a gradual unfolding of tensions and resolutions as they occur coincidentally in the various voices. This is an exciting thing for me, which I look forward to exploring further on subsequent recordings.

One thing unique to "Autumn in New York" is its inspiration, and this is something I hope never to have duplicated. I lost two old buddies here in New York on September 11, 2001. One, Billy Burke, was a Captain in the FDNY, and the other, Kenny Cubas, was working in a financial institution in one of the towers. Both Billy and Kenny got out safely that morning, and both chose valiantly to go back in to help people. Those who spoke to them both that day begged them to stay out, but both spoke of the need to go back and help. Their stories were not unlike those of many others that day, except that in my case they were guys I first met back in 1976. I always knew them to be great guys, and no one who knew them would be surprised to hear of their selflessness, but the shock was—and remains—large. Anyway, I was wondering at first at the validity of music in a world where such horror exists, but pretty quickly came to the realization that art is in fact more important now than ever, both as a means of comforting people and as a way to express for them emotions which might not otherwise find voice. Also, I felt that the deaths of these and other everyday individuals made more real the responsibility to live every day as the one that counts, and to allow no "throwaways." So that means more honesty, more love, more effort at all things, more enjoyment of the small moments which speak of life in the simplest ways. As a tribute to Kenny and Billy and the city I love so well, I dedicated "Autumn in New York" to their memory. In this way, their names will live, at least in my family, as long as people can listen to the music. One does what one can do, after all.

AAJ: 'Little David' is inspired by the Biblical account of David and Goliath. Of course, David eventually became a great king and also authored most of the Psalms, many of which you are using in your gospel suites. Do you find the character of David to be motivational for you? If so, could you please elaborate?

PM: I think the story of David and Goliath is meant to be inspirational to us all. The notion of the little guy armed only with his faith prevailing in the face of such long odds informs much of our culture. But I think it's the beginning of the story which is most important—the fact that David was willing to try is the beautiful part for me. I almost think it would have been better for us not to know how that battle turned out, only knowing of his resolute courage without the certainty of reward. After all that's what really matters. I don't presume to put any of my life into the category of "me against the world," but one can surely take comfort knowing that, in the end, acting on one's ideals and convictions is ultimately the only choice. As for David's life as a musician, it is certainly inspirational. He showed the same courage in his musical expression of human emotion that he showed on the battlefield. The jazz musician can take David's unabashed humanity as manifested in music as a good model, I think.

AAJ: What analogies or parallels (if any) do you see/hear between Psalms, traditional gospel hymns, and standards?

PM: As composed by David, the Psalms were the hymn book of Israel. Many are addressed to the chief musician, and many are songs dedicated to one personage or another. So, even in their many English translations, the Psalms are a naturally musical group of works, and lend themselves to musical setting. African-American spirituals grew out of the same dynamic, that of the suffering and even joy of an oppressed people finding voice in music. In fact the writers of many spirituals used what is known as Old Testament biblical personages as direct allegory for their own plight as those taken forcibly from their home. The spirituals remain viable today, both for their intrinsic melodic beauty as well as for their addressing of certain universal human conditions—those of sadness as well as joy in the face of suffering. Traditional gospel hymns take their texts from more New Testament biblical themes, although they can retain some of the melodic flavor of the spirituals. Modern gospel music takes many of the same themes and uses update harmonies and rhythms. I like to play spirituals in a jazz context, because the large price of their birth calls for the kind of honest interpretation which is the hallmark of all good art. Also, the melodies are so beautiful as to encourage melodic improvisation of a higher sort. Those logical, beautifully simple diatonic melodies inspired many early white, American-born writers as well, most notably Stephen Foster. I hear his work echoed in the work of later melodicists such as Jerome Kern, Richard Rodgers and Hoagy Carmichael. Those composers began to dress the melodies in rich harmonies, often to great effect.

AAJ: This past week found you running through your new suite for gospel choir and jazz quartet entitled "Sing a New Song." Without giving away too many secrets or surprises, could you please elaborate on what the audience will be hearing?

PM: The performance will be on Saturday, May 3 at 2:00 PM at the Devoe Street Baptist Church in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Information is available through my website. As I said, the Psalms were originally set to music, so what I do is try to find passages which are inspirational as to the words and which lend themselves to music I can conceive. After I come up with a melody I set vocal harmonies, tempo and time feels, and put the whole together with the accompaniment of a jazz quartet, which then develops the themes in sections of improvisation. There is also a narration which bridges the various selections, each of which comes from verses of the Psalms. The result is a suite which runs roughly 45 minutes. This year, as in past years, the concert will also include a solo performance by the wonderful singer Yvette Glover. I'll play the piano and conduct. The quartet will be rounded out by some wonderfully versatile musicians, Steve Slagle, saxophones and flute, Pat O'Leary, bass, and Dwayne "Cook" Broadnax at the drums. I've been doing this for a few years now, and the title of this year's suite, "Sing a New Song," is drawn from Psalms 96 and 98. It's great fun for me to find a way to join together two of the musical disciplines in which I work, between which there isn't really much of a boundary anyway. Much of what made jazz an enduring art form came from church music in the first place, so I don't see this as much of a stretch.

AAJ: Do you have plans to adapt or use any other Biblical texts as musical springboards? If so, which are you considering and why?

PM: As mentioned earlier, the suites I write are from the Psalms. I've also been working on something based on parts of the book of Isaiah (that's the book from which Handel took his text for "The Messiah"), and we'll see what else happens. For my trio performances and recordings I'll continue to set spirituals and hymns in a jazz context, and I always enjoy playing some of the choral things in the smaller, more intimate trio manner.

AAJ: What musicians would you most like to work with that you have never worked with before? Why?

PM: That's a difficult question. I've already been blessed to play with many great masters whose music I first got to know on recordings with piano idols of mine. For example, I played for several years with Vernel Fournier, whom I of course heard with the magnificent trio of Ahmad Jamal; I recently had the opportunity to play with Chuck Israels whose recordings with Bill Evans continue to inspire me; I got to play with Larry Gales once at the great piano room, Bradley's, having heard him with Monk, and I played once, also at Bradley's, with Billy Higgins, whose work with many great pianists, including Chris Anderson and Cedar Walton, was always uplifting. And these days I play with Leroy Williams, who played with Monk and has for years played with Barry Harris. It has been a thrill to play with these great musicians along with scores of others whom I have admired. And the beautiful thing is that now, as a teacher, I'm meeting musicians every day who obviously will have much to say before they're through. I look forward to playing with them. I guess I repeat myself, but I really believe it's the message, not the messenger. All the musicians I've mentioned are wonderful vessels, purely and truthfully delivering the music. As such, I can only make myself available and await the moment—and the phone call.

AAJ: What can a musician learn from being told by an audience member (post-performance) that he or she "played exceptionally well" or was "extremely moving" when he or she feels their performance was substandard?

PM: I learned a long time ago not to get too excited either way as regards the relative quality of a performance. We perform all the time, several times a week, so I like to view the whole continuum of my career as a developing body of work. I do, however, get excited if I feel that there were moments on stage for which I was prepared, when everything worked well and the music flowed. Those moments are to be treasured, but I'm careful not to take too much credit for them. This means, conversely, that given an honest effort on my part, I can't be too hard on myself for a less than successful performance. It's an elusive thing. We can only expect to maintain a consistent level of professional quality, knowing that the better moments will come in due season. And, more to the point of your question, of course I'm always pleased when a listener is moved. That really is the goal, after all, of any art form. To express or elicit real feelings, to be in touch with that part of humanity which is perhaps divine—that's the role of the musician in the world.

AAJ: Do you have any preparatory routines or rituals prior to performing live? If so, what are they?

PM: I always spend time practicing earlier in the day of a performance, perhaps a bit less on a night of a long performance, but always at least enough to get warm and loose. I practice technique in a slow, measured, almost meditative way, very gradually picking up speed. It's funny—when I was younger I always hated the scales, etc., but now I find them a relaxing, centering thing which I appreciate. It's sometimes tough to find time to play before a performance, particularly if one is traveling, but I'm always careful to spend time before performing massaging my arms and hands as a way of getting blood to the area, in order to be as warm as possible before playing. I had to develop that approach after severe chronic bouts with tendinitis in my wrists when I was at music school and for several years afterward. I studied massage, Alexander technique, yoga and something called "Body-Mind Centering" in an effort to avoid the tendinitis, and a combination of all those things seems to have worked. I very rarely have those problems anymore.

AAJ: What's the funniest or most embarrassing thing that's happened to you while performing or recording?

PM: I remember playing at a club downtown one time with the great Mel Lewis at the drums, along with tenor saxophonist Ralph Lalama, and Pat O'Leary at the bass. We were cooking, I mean really burning. The tune was "After You've Gone," and I was taking a solo when everything just seemed to be hitting right, on all cylinders, if you will. Of course, if it's really right, it means you're taking risks, and suddenly I guess I got too far out on the limb, dropped a beat or something, and my solo just collapsed. I mean it was a conflagration, out of nowhere. The gig was recorded from the bandstand, and you can hear Ralph asking me what on earth (the question was actually put more colorfully than that) had happened. I love to listen to it—it's just the funniest thing—from the highest of the high to suddenly falling through space.

AAJ: What is the most meaningful or memorable compliment you've ever received?

PM: Two things come to mind: Once I was told that Barry Harris said, "Malinverni sure is funky." From Barry Harris, that's a real compliment. Another time, Reverend Dr. Gardner C. Taylor, who has been called the Dean of American preachers, said to me during a guest sermon at Devoe Street, "If ever I get a tent, you're coming with me." That was an allusion to the old tent revival meetings of an earlier day. Here was this magnificent, elegant and wise man, who by saying that made me feel as though I had been used that day in the right way.

AAJ: What other projects can we expect from you in 2003-2004?

PM: I'm looking forward to the end of my teaching responsibilities this semester so that I can commence taking lessons again. It's time to fix a few things. I have an appointment with Sophia Rosoff in a couple of weeks when I hope to begin the process.

I'll keep writing, for the trio and for my choir. I'm also, as I may have said earlier, looking to do some writing for string quartet and piano. I don't know what form that will take yet, but I'm beginning to hear the sounds. I'll make another trio recording pretty soon. I feel that my own development as a pianist is advanced by the process of preparing for and making a recording.


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