Crumbs. My machine froze and I lost a monster essay on John Clerk of Penicuik, and my crazy affair with him. Lucky for you: it was mostly drivelly, gave a rather boring track-by-track description of the CD I have of his cantatas, and blew stylistic hyena bollocks.
But, in short [I'm glad you asked, Chzza] JC of P was a really cool amateur musician with whom I have an almost criminal amount of identification; he was a Scottish gentleman born in 1676 whose music dates from his time in Rome at the turn of the century, when he was studying with Corelli and Pasquini and basically living the Grand Tour lifestyle. Pretty high on my list of people in history I'd like to be or meet. If I had to write a personal ad for him [& I should be so lucky], it would go:
BiWM, 21, Scottish, dandyish and disobedient, seeks love and life on the Continent. Interests include law, music, architecture, landscape design, Freemasonry, contemporary Latin poetry, politics. Degree in law, University of Leiden, 1697.
So on and so forth. Wildly interesting music, characterized by strange, uneven phrases (usually dictated by his interest in numerology, so they come out in units of eleven or nine bars), picturesque word-setting, and clever harmonic or rhythmic puns. I ran into him by accident when I was working at a Border's and, for some reason, one copy of Leo Scotiae irritatus had worked its way between all the copies of Baby needs Scriabin and Handel Adagios for Your Houseplants. The liner notes are enthusiastic, and there's an engraving of John at 19, with his eyebrow cocked sexily. I felt all fluttery. Presbyterians and Papists! Scozzesi Italianati! Friend to superstars! Playful gendering! Witty high Drama!
The compositions range from a setting of Psalm 50/51 to a provocative Anacreontic ode to Cupid (which is all about drag and prostitution!). There's a piece about the Darien Scheme, which intended to set up an independent Scots settlement on the isthmus of Panama (this was before the Act of Union). And best of all, I have this silly crush on him and his cork-heel'd schoon.
Oh well. Not much happening in my life. I start work at a coffee shop next week (thank gods for the money and something to do). Tonight I'm going to see some friends sing with Coro Allegro. Maybe I should go get something to eat.
Please take a moment to remember and celebrate Ernst Gombrich, a brilliant art historian, who died last Saturday in London.