{"id":162657332,"date":"2025-05-28T07:30:00","date_gmt":"2025-05-28T12:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.lazyandentitled.org\/?p=162657332"},"modified":"2025-05-23T12:18:02","modified_gmt":"2025-05-23T17:18:02","slug":"storytelling-in-instrumental-music","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.lazyandentitled.org\/?p=162657332","title":{"rendered":"Storytelling In Instrumental Music"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\u201cPrometheus was trying \/ to invent the guitar solo. \/ Fire was his first draft.\u201d – Amorak Huey, \u201cSeven Stories About Fire\u201d<\/h6>\n\n\n\n

Maybe this is an increasingly impossible experience in the age of the internet. This happened when I was 17 or 18. I was driving, and for some reason, had to listen to the radio. Usually, high school Chris was never in a car without his 64-CD case. But for whatever reason, I was tuned into Nashville’s jazz station. The DJ was giving a talk about cinematic jazz music, jazz composers and players who could really paint pictures with their instruments. I remember Charles Mingus and his album The Clown<\/em> were mentioned. Either that, or when I later looked up “Charles Mingus album with spoken word,” I was directed to the Jean Shepherd-featuring album. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The song that played on the radio that day was not<\/em> “The Clown,” however. I don’t remember what it was, and I’ve been searching for it ever since. It was some guy monologuing while the rhythm section vamped, and then the horns would play riffs in between his verses. Sometimes riff that played on what he said\u2014I remember a line that went something like “my mother used to not understand jazz, but now she spends most of her nights in Tunisia” and then the horns did a little quote of “A Night In Tunisia.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"a
here is Tunisia, at night (credit: Wikimedia Commons, Shoestring at wts wikivoyage<\/a><\/em>)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

One of my favorite pieces of music is the Concierto de Aranjuez by Joaquin Rodrigo<\/a>. You might know it, particularly the second movement, as \u201cthe Spanish guitar song.\u201d Miles Davis did a variation on it, for Sketches Of Spain<\/em>. You\u2019ll know the opening three notes. Go ahead, think of a Spanish guitar lick. When I post the video in a paragraph or two, see if you\u2019re right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saw a performance of this concerto in high school. My parents, being string players, are big Symphony-goers. My brother and I played in youth orchestras (yes, I can play upright bass; no, you don\u2019t want to ask me to do so). Who can remember if we saw the concerto at TPAC in Nashville or at MTSU in Murfreesboro, but I do remember the program. It mentioned the piece being inspired by the gardens at the royal palace in Aranjuez, which sailed over my head, because I assume most pre-20th classical music is written for some nobility (Beethoven\u2019s Third, famously, was written for Napoleon, until Napoleon declared himself emperor and Beethoven tore the first page up and cried all night or something. Relatable, tbh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"painting,
\u201clittle bitch\u201d – Beethoven, probably (credit: <\/em>Jacques-Louis David<\/em><\/a>)<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

What stuck with me was how the show-stopping, culture-shifting second movement was inspired both the happy early days of his marriage, but also his grief over his wife\u2019s miscarriage. The ending major chord arpeggio\u2014the movement, I believe, is in B minor, but ends on B major chord, I think that\u2019s right\u2014is supposed to be the child\u2019s spirit ascending to Heaven, if my memory from literally 20 years ago holds up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Okay, that second movement. See if you recognize it. I\u2019m really partial to this recording from The Romeros:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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