#piano lessons Garland

[planopianoandviolin]

Embracing A Comprehensive Musical Education: Exploring The Rich Curriculum Of Plano Piano And Violin Texas' Piano Lessons In Richardson

Music is one of the most powerful forms of communication, allowing for a captivating and emotive experience that can touch us on multiple levels. Embracing a comprehensive musical education provides an enriching opportunity to explore this art form more deeply.

Plano Piano and Violin Texas’ piano lessons in Richardson are unique in their approach as they offer students access to a rich curriculum. This article will discuss how embracing a comprehensive musical education through these piano lessons gives students the opportunity to grow both artistically and personally.

It will also explore the different elements of the curriculum offered by Plano Piano and Violin Texas, with particular emphasis on the ways it encourages creative expression while developing technical proficiency at the same time.

Building A Strong Foundation: The Importance Of Music Theory In Plano Piano And Violin Texas' Piano Lessons In Richardson

The piano is a complex instrument that can be difficult to master. At Plano Piano and Violin Texas, they understand the importance of having strong music theory fundamentals in order to play with proficiency. In their lessons in Richardson, students learn how to read sheet music, understand harmony and structure, and gain an appreciation for musical expression.

Music theory acts as an anchor for those learning the complexities of playing the piano; it provides a framework from which pianists can draw upon when exploring improvisation and composition techniques.

From scales and intervals, to chords and modulation - understanding music theory gives pianists the building blocks needed to create beautiful melodies filled with emotion.

By embracing this comprehensive curriculum, students at Plano Piano and Violin Texas are equipped with all the necessary tools needed to become accomplished performers on the piano.

Developing Technical Skills: Mastering Piano Techniques With Plano Piano And Violin Texas' Richardson Piano Lessons

The importance of music theory in piano lessons is essential for building a strong foundation, however it is not the only component.

Developing technical skills also plays an important role in mastering the instrument and Plano Piano and Violin Texas’ Richardson piano lessons are designed to help students strengthen their technique.

Students learn advanced techniques like finger strength and agility which can be improved through exercises such as scales and arpeggios; articulation which involves varying the speed or intensity of notes; dynamics that require playing at various volumes; and pedaling that emphasizes sustaining certain notes while others change.

With this comprehensive approach, students develop a deeper understanding of how to create more expressive performances with nuance and emotion.

By exploring these different facets of piano-playing, students gain confidence in their abilities and unlock their potential as musicians.

Fostering Creativity And Expression: The Role Of Improvisation And Composition In Plano Piano And Violin Texas' Piano Lessons In Richardson

Plano Piano and Violin Texas has long been at the forefront of musical education, emphasizing creativity and self-expression through improvisation and composition exercises.

According to a survey conducted in 2019, 94% of students learning piano with Plano Piano and Violin Texas stated that they felt their overall musicianship had improved since starting lessons.

These activities are essential for developing a deeper understanding of music theory, technique, and expression.

Improvisation encourages students to compose on the spot using chords, melodies, rhythms, dynamics, articulation—all the tools of composition.

By experimenting with these elements without pressure from performance or evaluation expectations, learners gain an understanding of how to develop meaningful works of art that resonate with them personally.

At the same time, composing original pieces gives students ownership over their work while allowing them to explore what is possible in terms of form and structure within different styles.

Through this process, students also learn about communicating ideas effectively which can be applied outside of music as well.

Allowing learners to have fun while exploring new techniques allows them to grow into more confident musicians who are not afraid to take risks when creating music.

Preparing For Success: The Value Of Performance And Examination Preparation In Plano Piano And Violin Texas' Richardson Piano Lessons

The value of performance and examination preparation in Plano Piano and Violin Texas’ piano lessons Richardson is clear. Through the encouragement to participate in local recitals, competitions, and examinations, students are able to gain valuable experience performing for an audience and being assessed against their peers. This can help them develop confidence as well as refine their technique, sight reading, aural skills and overall musicality.

The instructor plays an important role here by providing guidance on selecting repertoire, offering constructive feedback during practice sessions, and helping the student understand how they need to prepare specific pieces or sections ready for assessment.

Furthermore, preparing for exams such as ABRSM provide structure that helps students learn more effectively through setting achievable goals which gives them incentives to work hard. They can also use these exams as stepping stones towards gaining qualifications or even developing advanced techniques like improvisation or composition later down the line if desired.

With this approach, instructors create a positive learning environment that allows students to build up vital skill sets needed for success at any level of playing.

Conclusion

As the student progresses through Plano Piano and Violin Texas' piano lessons in Richardson, they are exposed to a wealth of knowledge that enriches their understanding of music.

From developing technical skills to exploring creative expression, these courses provide an invaluable experience that prepares them for future success.

Through its emphasis on theory, technique, improvisation and composition, as well as performance preparation and examination training, Plano Piano and Violin Texas creates an environment where students can thrive musically.

By embracing this comprehensive musical education, aspiring musicians will find themselves tackling new challenges with confidence while discovering the beauty of music.

[systastic]

hello darling <3 one would like to request a level 4 nilou fictive if possible! the only thing one would like to specify is she/her & lesbian, otherwise everything is creators choice.

hello blue text anon~ nilou is so pretty!! i hope mew enjoy fleur -🍥

gonna flesh her a lot out cus her personality ingame kinda sucks. no offense -🐝

name :: nilou, padisarah, ćeline, lilah, leila, adrienne (ari or adri as a nickname), haniya, naira, calypso, seriyah, alara, or anahita

age :: 21 to 23

pronouns :: she/her && sometimes fleur/fleurs or fae/feyr

roles :: reliever, pacific, curacormate, dear, obsonātor, social pleaser

species :: human performer

gender identity :: viscarian (the flower), myosotian (gender), musigender, genderconcerto, tambougender (first def.)

orientation :: lesbian, sapphic

source :: genshin impact

aesthetic :: bloomcore, spring, dreamy, ethereal

appearance description :: haniya is rather short, clocking in at around five feet and three inches tall. she has red-brown hair that stops just shy of her thighs, and often wears fancy dresses or outfits that look good during her dances. closed-toed shoes are rather uncomfortable and rarely fit properly due to her feet being a touch too small for her body, so she opts for sandals instead. ćeline has had abnormally short hamstrings from birth. she works hard to keep her physique and ability to move intact; this is why she dances so often, to help remain flexible and mobile. even still, fleur is somewhat chubby: the muscle she has built up from years upon years of dancing has given her a lithe yet muscular frame, and seriyah’a love of pudding has placed some chub on top. leila has a cane that she uses on days when she has pushed herself too hard; the shooting pain of walking makes it a struggle to move, even with having worked so hard. these days, her use of a cane is rare — but the chance of it happening is never quite zero.

personality description :: adrienne is a normal girl: she is sweet to her friends, kind to strangers, and harbors a deep love for dance. she is seen as the quiet girl among the dance troupe who is eager to help. those in the troupe who have problems often come to her for solutions or mediating arguments. more than this, though, naira is outspoken. what she views as misdeeds are never let off lightly; she confronts those responsible, admonishing them for their crimes and urging them to “do better next time”. she is keen to giving people second chances — but if that second chance is used up, alara will not give them a third. creativity blooms from her every movement. whether it be dance, embroidery, watercolor, or cooking, naira will do it to the fullest. minor mistakes of her own or her friends (ink smears, accidental color leaking, et cetera) are not taken too serious. there is always a chance to try again.

likes :: kind souls, cute animals such as kitties, bunnies, and puppies, her specialty pudding (other types of pudding are also good), ballet, classical music, leg strength training, wide open flower fields, embroidery, the inteyvat flower, lotus flowers, creating flower crowns or flower centerpieces, mentoring and teaching other people to dance, decorating her cane with fresh flower garlands, picnics in nature, and spending time with her close friends.

dislikes :: bastardization of any culture, hard rock, punk, or pop music, those who assume her whole personality is dancing, those who think she’s “fragile”, assumptions of ability, the rampant ableism in the dance world, those who mock others who are trying to improve and succeed, those who assume art is “easy” and that they could do it themselves (it is not easy for everyone; art is an expression of the soul. to claim it easy or that you could do the same undermines the original meaning of the piece and the work that was put into it). she has argued with other troupe members over this before.

front triggers :: classical music, dance lessons, soft and sweet piano compositions, watching ballet, and going to an art gallery

signoff :: ⚜️ or 🩰 (no others really match…)

mood board :: can be found here

songs for you :: merry go round of life from howl’s moving castle, le cygne by camille saint-saëns, clair de lune by claude debussy, the mercy of the wind by million eyes, return to versailles by joshua kyan aalampour, ballerina by yehezkel raz

kins :: the sugar plum fairy from the nutcracker, odette from swan lake, ondine from ondine

typing quirk? :: spaces out her words . . . nothing is ever too close together . avoids capital letters , does not use adverbs or contractions very often , and has a flowery way of speaking . manner of speech is comparable to purple prose .

image source here!

[22-fe]

102293892617536871 post about how spring is beautiful.

yesterday i was in several places that gave me a sense of life (^˵◕ω◕˵^)

school. lessons without teachers, wind through the wide open window, conversations with classmates, the sun.

art school. garlands, art, violin and piano music from the corridor.

gas station. smell of gasoline, sounds of cars, view of the incredibly beautiful sky.

[melbournenewsvine]

Musician LeAnn Rimes on family marriage and her career

LeAnn Rimes is a musician who is best known for being a two-time Grammy Award winner. The 40-year-old opens up about her godparents, marries guys, and shoots a video with Jon Bon Jovi. my godfather, Gerald, he was like a grandfather/father figure to me. Wilbur’s parents worked with him for 25 years. Gerald’s only child was shot by her husband when she was 22. my godfather Treat me like the granddaughter they’ve never seen. Gerald was very loving and fun. As an only child, I grew up very quickly and it was clear that he wanted to give me space to be a kid. He passed away when I was 15 and he was one of the pillars of my life. “I feel like it took even meeting Eddie to be consistent. It gave me the security to feel like I could dive into places of darkness and trauma and just be myself.” my father and me Fun relationship. I adore him, he taught me work ethic and how to be kind to people. There is a lot of stubbornness I received from him too! I used to play softball when I was young and he coached my team. He also took me to singing practice and piano lessons. My mother was a receptionist and did odd jobs; They both gave up their jobs when my teenage career took off. They were both supportive of what I wanted to do, and lived their love of music through me. My parents spent 12 years trying for a baby before I came. Brian forward The boyfriend is at Club Hill Elementary School in Garland, Texas. He came with his wife to see me at prom recently. We follow each other on Instagram. He was the first to break my heart when he walked away and broke up with me. We shared my first kiss on my birthday. I started dating Andrew Keegan at the age of fifteen. He was an actor in teen movies and we were together for three years. While shooting a video for my song Commitment in Santa MonicaI passed through a Teens win magazine and spotted him. I told my manager and hair and makeup artist that I thought it was cute. The next moment, my then-manager called Andrew and asked if he wanted to meet me; This is how we got here. Moving from Texas Coming to Los Angeles for work was difficult. My mom was with me for some time, but I moved in with Andrew at the age of 16. My father was not happy with that. There was a lot of upheaval in my life at that time. My parents divorced [she was also in a lawsuit with her parents and record label] And Andrew was such a stability to me – for that I am grateful. She kept me safe for a few years in my life, because the last thing I needed was to live alone. my relationship With my family it’s complicated. Do I wish things would go differently? definitely. But there were a lot of lessons to be learned in those years and I’m still learning a lot from that. I really wished my parents hadn’t divorced. It was painful and it was a huge loss for me. Once I experienced that, I could forgive them and move on. Musician Ben Harper I share the same dentist. They skate together. I was watching Ben in the waiting room one day and we ended up talking. I thought it would be cool to put him on my record and asked him at that moment. Source link Originally published at Melbourne News Vine

[husbandohunter]

Windblume Memories [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: “The annual Windblume festival held in the name of romance and freedom! Why not celebrate it with your lover?”

Characters: Kaeya, Diluc

(A/N): A self-indulgent headcanon because Mihoyo has yet to give us more moments with our husbandos. Just imagining them having fun and enjoying, mah heart~~ And no Mihoyo, if you bother giving us their quotes why can’t you just give us a hangout already (cri cri)

------------------------------------------------------

{Diluc}

“I do know how to play music. Is it so strange?"

• As the most eligible (former)bachelor of Mondstadt, it wouldn't be a surprise if he actually knew the ways of an instrument. But here you were, comepletely awestruck while looking expectantly at your fiance.

• "Diluc you're so perfect I love you!" -you probably

• Back in the days when he took his etiquette lessons, Diluc also learned how to play the violin as well as the piano but the lyre was a traditional instrument of Mondstadt so he focused on that the most.

• His repitoire would lean more to the soft and solemn pieces. (Like his soundtracks HA)

• Diluc is quite shy when you ask him to give you a performance but the way you just plead, he can't say no

• If you don't know how to play an instrument, he'll be more than glad to help you. He's an excellent teacher due to the vast amount of patience he has (thought can't really say the same for other people) and could spend hours elaborating on the same place you've been stuck at.

"Why is this song so slooooow?"

"You're being too hasty, love."

• You're worried if he's bored but Diluc reassures that he isn't. Seldom does he have the opportunity to spend time with you like this so he makes sure to treasure every moment (Even when you're about to break the goddam lyre out of frustration).

• But when you do manage to make it to the end after several attempts, albeit still terrible, there would be the stupidest fat grin on your face while chanting, "I did it! I did it!"

• And he'd praise you as a soft expression graces his features, "You certainly did."

• Soft man I cri

"It takes a long period of training to become a battle-ready archer. These games are only enough to pass the time."

• "No Diluc, I brought you here to have fun not to have this as a training session."

• This man can do pretty much ANYTHING and literally win you any prize. You want that stuffed toy? Consider it taken.

• Perhaps the activities weren't challenging enough. Whether it'd be wind gliding or the peculiar wonderland house, he's got the reflexes for it all.

• Since Diluc is so battle oriented, he treats the games as such. You call him a worry wart after falling into the pit just because you steped on the wrong stone: "Diluc I’m fine. Its just a game." He’ll grab you out of pure instinct and apologize shortly after when you pout at him

• Eventually Diluc learns to loosen up while still keeping an eye at your stance. You figured it would probably be best if you two stuck with something more light and carefree. In a nutshell, anything but the peculiar wonderland house.

• At the end of the day, the two of you are exhausted from all that workout. While closing up Angel's Share after a long night, Diluc catches you falling asleep at the front bar and gently drapes his coat over your shoulders.

• His initial plan was to wake you up since the ideal place to sleep would be the Dawn Winery but Diluc didn't have the heart to wake you up. He simply sits on the stool beside you while leaning down to memorize your serene look, thankful to have been able to experience what it's like to live in a city of freedom again.

{Kaeya}

"Oh dear, is this what they call a height advantage? I suppose I can go a little easy on you all to make things a bit more exciting."

• You gave him that look where you weren't quite sure if he was lying or telling the truth. Could the Cavalry Captain be afraid of heights? You'll never know.

• So regardless, you guys decided to fly together which at first was meant to be a competition of who can collect the most flowers. You managed to land safely with the highest score while your boyfriend was still behind, trying to avoid the dusty balloons.

"Seems like I went a little too easy on you," he jests. You roll your eyes.

"Alright, let's go for another round then."

• This time you had a different idea. Just a few seconds before the game started, you took him by the hand and jumped straight off the platform. The whole time as the two of you were soaring through the air, you held him tight.

• "Now it shouldn't be so scary anymore!"

• The surprised expression he had lasted for a moment before melting into a smile, "How very cunning of you, darling."

• Your security gave him the chance to admire the scenery from the skies, it was a breathtaking view. How your hair whips beautifully against the wind and your pink-tainted cheeks from the cold, breathtaking.

• Though, holding the other meant you had to collect the flowers with one hand and one arm which proved to be very unproductive. Even once the both of you landed within the garland of windwheel asters, Kaeya was still holding your hand.

• Kaeya often treats fearful situations as thrilling experiences but the outcome in the end turned out to be more favourable than he had initially planned it to be. Though if you’re a novice windglider beware, this man will let you go at random times just so he can see your reactions. 

"What an interesting diversion. Since everyone's in high spirits, it would truly be a shame if I didn't pitch in a little!"

• You were extremely curious of Kaeya's musical skills since his nature tends to lean towards the frivolous side. Unexpectedly, his tunes and playing style sounded melancholic as well. Most likely due to the fact of growing up in the Ragnvindr household.

• Since he hangs out at the bars during late nights quite often, Kaeya would know how to play a few tunes he picked up along the way. He would love to give you a full on performance! Anything for his sweetheart~ Though keep staring and you might find him teasing you about it after.

• Honestly Kaeya also makes an excellent teacher. His way of wording makes everything so easy to understand which is helpful to avoid silly mistakes. He teaches you very simple lyre pieces, brushing his fingers over yours every once in a while to help you adjust the right position.

• You think he's doing this on purpose to get you bothered but Kaeya simply feigns ignorance.

• But if you do know how to play a lyre, it would be a session where both of you share your songs. Out of all of them, there was one song that stuck out the most:

You felt a sense of longing in the tune Kaeya played. Far too slow to match the upbeat atmosphere of Mondstadt during the day and not as romantic as it would be during the night. Instead, it seemed to reflect the emotion of sadness, like hands reaching to a far away land which turned out to be nothing but a mirage.

"Where did you learn that piece? I never heard it before," you comment shortly after he finished.

Kaeya hums playfully while shooting a grin to match, "I composed it myself."

"Is that so?" You learned to not take everything at face value when talking to your lover, "Then where did you draw your inspiration from. It doesn't seem like you'd create it on a whim when your expertise lies in swordsmanship."

"Aha just when did you become so keen sweetheart?"

"Since I started dating you."

"Touche."

There would be a momentary pause and during times like these, it was easy to tell that the subject was related to his homeland. Kaeya always found it hard to bring up the topic, even before he met Crepus, music was one of the very last traces that tied his life to the scarce warms days of Khaenriah.

"What's the song called?"

Thankful that you changed the subject, Kaeya answers, "Frozen Dreams. At least, that is what I can remember."

"Frozen Dreams?" You pondered quietly, "I wonder what that title means."

"Do you like it that much?"

"Of course, that piece must be very important to you right? I would like to learn it," You pump your fists determinedly, I would like to learn about you as much as I can.

He looks at you, lips slightly parted at your genuine declaration. Although you may be tenacious when it came to his secrets, Kaeya did not doubt that it was also one of the quirks he loved about you most. With a small chuckle, he complies your request, “It would be my pleasure.”

Sometimes its best to leave the words unspoken. Perhaps another day when Kaeya feels ready to tell you everything, for now he will revel in the present where the intagible feelings of music and emotion do the speaking.

[guitars-and-kaleidoscope-eyes]

Queen Band; X Reader; Rock Intern Chapter Seven: Freddie Mercury's Traine

You get your first session on how to work the audience with Freddie Mercury.

WARNINGS: Some anxiety.

April 7th, 1978

It's been four months since I played on stage infront of millions but it might as well of been yesterday because I remember every detail of they night. What every everyone said, what everyone did, how I felt. It was amazing!

But a month after the show Freddie decided that I needed "training" on how to be better. So here I am, on my way to his flat for dinner and my first "training session".

"Hello (y/n), come in." Freddie greeted me and gestured for me to come in.

"So what's this training thing Fred?" I asked as I hung my bag up.

"While you were amazing at Madison, especially considering that it was your first time performing solo on stage, I still think you can do better. So we're going to start doing some exercises to get you to be more comfortable on stage and therefore make your performance better." Freddie said as he pat my shoulder lightly.

"You really think I'm ready Fred?" I asked.

"Of course you are my dear. Any moment now you're going to be getting calls to perform on tour." Freddie said. "Well, let's begin."

He lead me into the sitting room and had me stand infront of the grand piano as he sat down and played a few chords.

"Now darling, are there any other instruments you can play besides piano?" He asked as he began tuning.

"Well, I started playing violin when I was 11 and acoustic guitar when I was 13." I said.

"Ah, the next Brian May." Freddie joked.

"So have you any other music role models besides Paul McCartney and the fabulous me?" He asked.

"Well there's also Brian Wilson because of his amazing talents in song writing. Billy Joel because of how he can make is voice sound a bit different for each song. And I also really love older singers from the 30's such as Nat King Cole or Judy Garland." I said.

"Good, something we can work with." Freddie said.

He had me warm up by practicing a few scales, prenoncing vowels, and a bit of sight reading. He then asked me specific questions about things I particularly liked in the singers I mentioned. Then he had me work on how to get better at showing off stage presence by combining the things I really like about them and making my own persona.

After that, we went into the kitchen to eat. (Pot roast) Then went back to the piano to continue working on stage persona and being less shy.

"Well darling, that was pretty good for our first lesson." Freddie said as he put the kid back down on the piano and got up. "So what do you say we get you home and continue this next Friday?"

I agreed and we got into his car to get home.

Then in the next few weeks, it was stage persona, vocals, instruments, and just small things to help break the ice and get me to be less shy.

At one point Freddie even compared me to Deaky because he said that he was the same way when he joined Queen. But Freddie was slowly able to help him warm up to everything that was expected.

All in all, not bad being Mr. Mercury's traine.

[thnxforknowingme]

It's Who I'm With (13/24)

Summary: In an attempt to make industry connections (and pay rent), Kurt gets a job as a nanny for the daughter of a Broadway producer. When bringing her to a piano lesson one day in December, he meets Blaine Anderson, personal assistant to a famed pianist. (For Klaine Advent 2021)

Rating: T

Notes: This prompt was rough, but we got through it. Also, I'm going to be catching up on posting, so I will sort of be flooding the dash with new chapters over the next few days, whoops

Read previous parts here.

Thirteen: Arrow

Mr. Lowe was happy to let Kurt and Francie go see the a cappella performance, so that was the plan after Francie finished her last day of school before break. When Kurt got dressed that morning, he couldn’t decide what to wear, and then chastised himself for caring so much. It was just another day of work, another day watching Francie. It didn’t have to mean anything that they were going to see Blaine today.

It wasn’t like he even knew the guy very well. They’d interacted a handful of times, always in a professional capacity.

But, a mischievous voice in his head spoke up, it felt like more than that, didn’t it? Bringing coffee and dorky hats to try cheering him up. And their duets - god, he’d never hit it off with another singer like that right away. Maybe Blaine was just a musical genius and he could do that with anyone, but it felt special, somehow. Every conversation they had felt underscored with possibility, as though they were both feeling more than they were saying. Kurt was pretty certain it wasn’t just him.

So there was maybe something there, unless Kurt was making it all up in his head. He wasn’t going to go full schoolboy crush, doodling arrow-pierced hearts with their names inside, but maybe he ensured that he looked particularly hot as he chose his outfit and did his hair that morning.

Francie lingered outside the school when Kurt came to pick her up, wishing her classmates a happy holidays. Finally he convinced her to leave by reminding her they didn’t want to be late for the concert.

A light dusting of snow had fallen overnight, and the day had been cool enough that it hadn’t melted yet. As they reached Central Park and walked through the winding paths towards the bandshell where the performance would be, Kurt could admit that the snow did look nice. Most of it was still undisturbed beyond the pathways, frosting every plant and leaving neat piles on top of each lamp post.

They arrived at the amphitheater, where a modest crowd had formed in front of a group of people wearing black, and adorned with various Christmassy accessories - Santa hats, reindeer horns, Christmas light necklaces, garlands and tinsel worn around necks and wrists. It took Kurt a moment to pick Blaine out of the crowd - in dark pants and his black peacoat, wearing the same Santa hat he’d brought to the piano lesson yesterday.

Francie tapped on his wrist, and he looked down to see that she’d pulled Blaine’s other hats out of her backpack. She slipped the elf hat onto her own head, and held the other one out to Kurt.

He took it from her, but didn’t put it on - after all, what was the point of taking extra care with his hair if he was just going to flatten it with a polyester hat?

They waited a few minutes as more people arrived, standing in the growing crowd or sitting on nearby benches. Finally, one of the singers - a woman with short, spiky hair wearing a scarf patterned with gingerbread men - stepped forward. “Welcome, everyone!” she greeted, and the audience applauded lightly in return. “Let’s get started! We’re Measure By Measure, and we’re going to serenade you all with some carols. We have some donation bins up here, and any money collected today will be donated to the Food Bank for New York City.”

She stepped back to the singers, now standing in orderly rows, and pulled out a pitch pipe. The first note grew, catching like a flame as more and more of the singers hummed it in unison - and then they burst into song.

[jennyfair7]

Your OG S. S. Is impatient as heck. 😂

Merry Christmas Early since our lives are about to get crazy- at least mine is. But it’s meeeee. I wanted to hint that I wrote one of the advent calendars you saved for later. 🥰 but it’s me and here’s your presents!!!!

Christine had been to the underground home many times, but the holidays were approaching and during one of her lessons she realized Erik had not decorated at all, so naturally, she thought up a plan to surprise her Angel of Music.

Christine had brought some decorations down with her each visit she made to him so it would not be so tiresome of a load. When she thought the time right, and learned Erik had made arrangements to be out all day – his whereabouts unbeknownst to her - she settled in to spruce up the space and bring some holiday magic to the mysterious home on the lake.

She hummed some carols as she worked first in the kitchen to start the gingerbread. Ingredients mixed, rolled, shaped and cut to bake Christine set off to her next task.

She had realized getting a tree down here would be very difficult so she explored his rooms most thoroughly, not even thinking that it would be considered rude. In the moment she sought after a tree. One closet however startled her into an old memory as she gazed upon the mannequin that had been modeled after herself. She shook her head as to why Erik still held onto it, she hadn’t the slightest, but she remembered she had seen a clever idea in a dress shop she frequented and pulled the mannequin from its hiding spot and into the living area. She took it upon herself to undo all the green garland she had managed to bring in secret and pin and place it among the skirts of well, herself. She pulled little ornaments and adorned the greenery until it was enough, no candles were to be lit on it, she didn’t want to burn Erik’s home to pieces so this would do. She spread more decorations on the mantle, piano and anywhere she felt needed some Christmas Spirit.

The smell of Gingerbread permeated the air and Christine made her way back to the kitchen to be sure it wouldn’t burn! Deeming it done she set it aside to cool, cranberries and popcorn stringing was next, followed by decorating her cookies. She made one of herself, and of Erik, mask and all.

Christine spent the remainder of her day continuing to decorate the musical lair beneath the opera house. She startled, however, to realize that she was no longer alone and Erik had returned, watching quietly from a secret passage. At first, he felt a great alarm to see his angel alone, in his home – not to mention moving his things! And seeing the mannequin in the open, he thought he would be the one to swoon. But hearing her voice sing, and seeing her joy in creating this mysterious magic he revealed himself by embracing her.

“Oh! Erik! I – uh – hope you don’t mind but, Christmas is my favorite.” She stuttered. “I hope this is all right? I wanted to share the holidays with you.” A gentle smile crept on her face, reaching her eyes to make them sparkle.

“No, I don’t mind – though I’m a bit intrigued at your choice of tree….” He chuckled nervously. “But I love it, as I love you and everything you do.” Erik held her close. “Merry Christmas Christine.” He smiled against her curls and pulled her back to kiss her tenderly.

Christine smiled. “Merry Christmas to you too my Angel.”

OH. EM. GEE. AAAAH! I love it SO MUCH my sweet OGSS @daae-dancer93​! 😍 Holiday E/C fluff AND the mannequin as the Christmas tree?!?! 🎄 PERF! The illustration is gorgeous and brings your lovely story to life ❤️💚❤️ Thank you for my gifts and for being such a nice OGSS 😘 (I’m looking forward to reading your advent calendar piece, too!)

[wolfhednn]

🎄 A TREE FIR YOU EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT DOING THE MEME BUT DAMN IF BEING OVERBEARING WITH THIS AIN'T IC AF.

no i didn’t even reblog the meme but i’m doing it for @gallantgautier cause i’m an unapologetic trash bin :meowshrug:

          home stretch. it’s in their shared look, has been since the evening finally began to set in, has been since they got into the car behind a rowdy glenn and an ingrid chastising him about how they were going to be late if he didn’t hurry up. has been since glenn nearly got a ticket going 44 on the 30mph road leading up to the church because he was too busy laughing at the recollection of rodrigue’s face earlier that day after some stunt he had pulled.

         much of the long day is behind them now. home stretch. since nearly five in the morning, they’d been awake, the fraldarius household filled with motion and movement — presents to be wrapped ( and some secretly ), meals to be prepared, last-minute ingredients to be picked up amid the throngs in the grocery store all there for the same sticks of butter, the same sprigs of rosemary. with all the moments of warmth and moments of friction that come with christmas eve.

         home stretch. just the christmas eve service and they would be done, free to return to their shared apartment for a quieter night, a glass or two of something aged and sweet, respite beneath the north star before they would go their separate ways to different households again in the morning for christmas day with their families — felix knew sylvain would want to eke what solace he could from these dwindling hours before stepping into the pit of gnashing teeth that would greet him.

         ❝ text from dad. the gautiers’re there already, ❞ glenn announces from the front seat.

         ❝ glenn, don’t check your texts while you’re driving, please! ❞

         in the backseat, beneath where the rearview can see, felix keeps his neutral gaze out the window, watching the familiar rows of houses and trees pass, and his hand slides over to rest atop sylvain’s.

         the wheels of glenn’s car come to a stop over the familiar gravel lot, and felix’s breath puffs in a dissipating cloud over the rim of his coat lapels as he gets out of the car, promptly shoving his hands in his pockets. this, too, is tradition. the second generation wavers in their devotion, but each year the patriarchs fraldarius and gautier have built this foundation: a bedrock as unwavering as granite. glenn makes his jabs, but felix has never minded. the sermons preach the same lessons year after year, and he’s resolutely, though patiently, silent during the congregation’s prayers, but the hymns are pleasant, and he can admire the permeating spirit of warmth and the smiles on everyone’s faces.

         ❝ felix, you gonna finally sing with the choir this year? ❞ glenn’s obligatory teasing.

         ❝ i already told you, no. ❞ felix’s obligatory scorn.

         ❝ a tragedy. every year, i’m denied… how long will you- oh, hey, sylvain, what about you? come on, i’ve heard you at the hymns! don’t be shy! ❞ felix doesn’t even have to look back over his shoulder to know precisely the scene that’s playing out: glenn with that mischievous look, sylvain declining with a laugh equal parts playful and self-conscious, ingrid fondly shaking her head.

         heat from the central thermostat and the huddle of bodies arrayed in festive red and white billow to thaw his cheeks when he opens the door, glancing back at the carousing trio. the musical prelude has already begun, a medley piano arrangement of ‘ away in a manger ’ floating over the hushed voices of the settling crowd as they hasten to make final greetings to familiar faces. ❝ hurry up. ❞

         they find the array of royal blue and ivory, forest green and vermilion. ❝ we were just thinking you wouldn’t make it, ❞ rodrigue says by way of greeting, moving over for them to take their seats: the fraldariuses arrayed in one half of the row: rodrigue, glenn, ingrid, felix, before sylvain next to him makes the transition to the gautier side of the row, next to his mother, miklan, then his father.

         ❝ dad, i’m always right in the nick of time. like the saint nicholas of ti— ❞

         a light shove from ingrid cuts glenn off. ❝ shh. it’s starting. ❞

         every year proceeds the same, with its own small changes. a steady stream of ups and downs, not much different from the last. at least, that’s how it’s always felt to felix. he closes his eyes to the soothing choral prelude, waits with quiet enthusiasm for the time to sing his favorite hymns, throws a shared look and grin ( as they do every year ) across ingrid to glenn at ❝ je-sus, to thee-ee be-ee glo-o-ry givennnnnnnn ❞ and waiting for her to sigh at them ( as she does every year. ❝ no ingrid, singing giv’n wrong is tradition! ❞, as glenn insists whenever she brings it up ).

         the homily is, as he’d expected, the same as usual. communion goes as it always does, with the choir’s arrangement of ‘ the shepherd’s farewell ’ drifting to hover above and around, its gentle blend warmer than a hearth.

         before long, the service, and the conclusion of their long day, is rounding its final bend. the weariness isn’t simply theirs; it follows the dimming of the lights, cloaking the congregation in a hushing mantle that descends in seraphic peace, a penumbral dusk whose velvet glimmers faintly with the new starlight of candles being lit one by one down the central aisle. ushers move carefully, sharing the first light from the altar candles with the first individual in each row, to have it passed down, person to person. felix picks up his own, laid under his seat before the service had ever begun, and waits for sylvain to take his — a tiny, flickering flame — from his mom before turning to him. the rector’s voice murmurs gently over the crowd:

                   ❝ the light shines in the darkness, and yet the darkness                                                  did not overcome it. ❞

         the wavering glow as it passes from the wick of sylvain’s candle to his illuminates the glimmer of the smile in felix’s eyes, the creases of the same in sylvain’s face.

         ‘ silent night ’s first faint notes float over from the choir, joined in a quiet swell of unison from the congregation and felix’s own mild bass as he turns, one hand cupping the flame to shield it from the moving air, to light ingrid’s candle next. as ingrid shortly does the same, he watches with knowing exasperation as glenn takes his chance to press a kiss to her forehead, her muted protests always followed by his coy grin. tranquil coppers then move out to gaze over the small sea of other heads, out to the high windows where the moonlight peeks through, to the pungent garlands of mistletoe and ivy hung up in long vines encircling the walls just beneath the ceiling.

         they’re at the third verse when a searching hand to his right finds his own, and he curls his fingers in the gaps between sylvain’s, rough and warm.

         son of god, love’s pure light.

         ❝ hey. ❞

         felix turns to read sylvain’s smile, an adoring, coaxing thing that needs nothing to help brighten it. it’s not the radiant, beaming one when he’s laughing so hard that he needs to sit down; it’s not the wistful one softened by fondness when he’s watching felix wipe the sweat from his forehead after another close match at his computer. this one is a small candle in a quiet twilight, a sheltered microcosm for only their dwelling.

          radiant beams from thy holy face.

         he shifts in closer so that their arms touch, inviting the other to rest his face in his hair, prompting felix to look up at him with a self-conscious turn to the corners of his mouth when sylvain responds by leaning in just a fraction.

         ❝ sylvain… ❞

         with the dawn of redeeming grace.

         he knows that sylvain knows the tones of his protest. knows that when their eyes close and lips meet anyway, that sylvain doesn’t need any light to see the warmth that blooms in equal measure across felix’s cheeks and within his chest.

[planopianoandviolin]

Unlocking Your Inner Pianist: How Piano Lessons In Garland Can Transform Beginners Into Confident Musicians

Piano lessons have the potential to be transformative. With practice and dedication, those who take piano lessons can unlock their inner pianist and become confident musicians.

In this article, readers will learn about how taking piano lessons in Garland can help them achieve these goals. The article examines the benefits of learning this musical instrument, such as enhanced creativity and improved concentration skills.

Furthermore, the article explores different teaching methods that are used by instructors in order to ensure success for their students. Finally, it provides an overview of what individuals should expect when they decide to embark on a journey towards unlocking their own inner pianist through music instruction in Garland.

By reading this article, readers can gain insight into what it takes to develop as a musician and discover how piano lessons in Garland can assist with that process.

A Strong Foundation: The Importance Of Mastering Piano Fundamentals With Garland Piano Lessons

Learning to play the piano successfully requires mastering several essential skills and techniques. Beginners must learn basic music theory, the correct posture for playing the instrument, and how to read sheet music before they can even begin to make beautiful music.

Fortunately, Plano Piano and Violin Texas offers a comprehensive program that emphasizes these fundamentals in order to help beginners build a strong foundation in their piano playing. The instructors at Plano Piano and Violin Texas have an extensive knowledge of both classical and modern genres of keyboard music and are passionate about passing on their expertise to students.

Their approach is tailored towards each individual beginner based on personal goals such as improving technique or learning pieces from popular culture. They also offer lessons in related instruments such as Plano piano or violin Texas so students can explore different musical styles if desired.

The teachers strive to create a warm and nurturing environment where students feel comfortable enough to take risks with their newfound skills while still having access to necessary guidance when needed. Through this unique combination of rigorous instruction and personalized attention, beginners will gain confidence in their ability to master the art of playing piano.

Customized Learning For Every Student: How Garland Piano Lessons Cater To Individual Needs And Goals

Piano lessons Garland provide a personalized approach to learning, allowing students to progress at their own pace and reach specific musical goals. With customized teaching methods that cater to individual needs and goals, learners can unlock the potential of their inner pianist.

Through effective instruction, one-on-one guidance, and mindful mentorship, aspiring musicians are empowered to explore their creative capacity. Plano Piano and Violin Texas combines supportive coaching with tailored training plans for each student. The instructors work closely with learners to better understand their aptitudes and abilities, adjust their playing style accordingly, and offer ongoing support throughout the process.

By connecting theory with practice through hands-on exercises, students gain practical experience while developing essential technical skills. In addition, they are given psychological tools such as mindfulness practices in order to help manage stress levels and maintain focus during rehearsal sessions or competitions.

Performance Opportunities And Building Confidence: How Garland Piano Lessons Prepare Students For The Stage

Plano Piano and Violin Texas provides ample opportunity for students to perform in front of an audience. These performance opportunities can come in the form of recitals, competitions, and community events. By participating in these activities, students gain valuable experience that helps them become more confident musicians.

Recitals are a great way for beginners to get comfortable with playing their instrument on stage. They give students a chance to practice performing their pieces before an audience and learn how best to interact with the crowd.

Competitions help sharpen skills as they offer a challenge, while also providing motivation and recognition when awards are given out at the end.

Community events allow piano players to show off what they have learned and bring music into areas where it may not be commonly heard. Through these performances, pianists develop poise, presence, and gain greater appreciation for their artistry.

In addition, gaining exposure through public shows enables them to make connections within the music industry which can lead to further success down the line.

The Power Of Practice: Strategies And Tips From Garland Piano Lessons For Effective And Enjoyable Practice Sessions

Performance opportunities provide a great way for students to gain confidence in their playing. Plano Piano and Violin Texas offers many ways for students to perform and show off the skills they've developed. Whether it's at an open house, school recital, or competition, these opportunities help build self-esteem while also giving students valuable experience on stage.

While performance is important in helping young musicians grow, so too is consistent practice. The power of practice cannot be overstated; regular sessions are essential in order to develop technical proficiency and musical expression.

At Plano Piano and Violin Texas we emphasize this point with our students by providing them with strategies and tips that make practicing effective and enjoyable:

* Break down pieces into smaller sections for better focus during practice sessions.

* Make sure you’re sitting properly at the piano when playing - posture is key!

* Use a metronome to keep track of tempo and rhythm.

* Jot down notes after each session about your progress and areas where improvement has been made – this can be incredibly motivating!

* Have fun while learning new repertoire – experimenting at the keys helps bring music alive!

With this advice from experienced teachers, even beginners can eventually become confident pianists able to express themselves through music confidently.

Conclusion

Developing skill in playing the piano can be a rewarding and transformative experience. Plano Piano and Violin Texas provide students with an effective approach to mastering this instrument, allowing them to develop strong fundamentals while customizing learning for individual needs and goals.

With performance opportunities available, they build confidence in their abilities while also gaining insights on how to practice effectively. For beginners looking to unlock their inner pianist, taking piano lessons in Garland is the ideal way to gain these essential skills and make music come alive.

Learning any new skill requires dedication and commitment from the student. However, when provided with guidance from experienced instructors, those starting out on their musical journey have access to the resources necessary for success. Through careful instruction tailored to each student's level of ability and focus on enjoyable practice sessions, learners are able to refine their technique as well as boost self-confidence through regular performances.

In short, garnering proficiency in playing the piano begins by obtaining quality instruction that enables each person to reach his or her full potential at their own pace. By attending Garland piano lessons, individuals can begin unlocking their inner musician while building a solid foundation of fundamental skills which will serve them throughout life’s many creative endeavors.

[vanithesquidwrites]

Every Breaking Wave

A little oneshot for the road. Crosspost to AO3 for those who prefer to read there. No tags nor warnings apply. =)

Most ships merely pass in the night, but perhaps, if one waits long enough, a ship might finally come ashore.

They come in pairs, always, much like Ritha and you once did.

It is never easy, and never gets any easier — by nature, of course, but also by design. You have seen disdain doom too many men to count, and you refuse to let it blunt you enough to doom your own guests. It will likely make no difference, but they at least deserve a chance. So you hone respect and care both to keep understanding alive, and try to let compassion guide your words as much as pride once did.

Hard work in itself, after so long.

It never gets any easier, but there is a routine to it. A sort of methodology to leaving hope behind. You've whittled it down to an art. Several arts, to be accurate.

You'd taken to writing, at first, once it had become obvious to you that your voice would go unheard. Historical accounts of sorts, in the vein of those ancients tomes that had awed you in your childhood. You consigned each name and each achievement of mankind to paper, a silent scribe to every country, every change of the world's name.

Still, soon enough, all of them read like nothing but echoes and rhymes, as time let mankind fold itself in interchangeable layers, each more similar to the last, each burning to the ground in turn.

You'd tried to not let it bother you, to remember that their — your — sameness was a treasure of its own. But one can only describe how the world burns down so many times. Weariness had won, in the end, and you'd set ink and quill aside. Time takes its toll, even on you.

Especially on you, perhaps.

You'd moved to music, afterwards. Reed pipes, at first, then plucked strings arranged much like those of a lyre. With each new era and culture came a new harmony of sounds, and you thought of archiving those, in place of archiving people. The piano had come quite late — twelve, perhaps twenty Cycles in, in then-Asabti's capital. It had been love at first listen, and you had almost thought to steal the wonder from its maker's hands, afraid a Beacon would be lit and destroy the sound forever. Thankfully the woman had been amenable to sale, and for enough of your old gold to see her live well into old age, you'd taken what would become your one true jewel to your abode.

You'd taken to composing, in the beginning. You had woven your hopes and sorrows into garlands of bright notes, let them speak in your place when curious men peeked through your gates. But your songs were not heeded any more than your advice had been, and so you'd come to improvise, to let emotion guide your hands into whatever art would come. It filled the time and the silence, and you imagined that, perhaps, Ritha would one day sing with you.

The sculpting had come last of all, though your sheer productivity more than made up for the lateness. You had been just as gifted with blades and spells as ages before, and soon an army of silent silhouettes was born from your hands, each one a sentinel, a tomb for a lost world. Regrets sprung anew from your memories, and you carved them into wood, sculpted with all the care you had not known to give when sculpting men.

Some were reminders for yourself, of lessons best not forgotten; some were meant for your visitors, omens of what was sure to come.

They had not been understood any more than the words, books, or songs, but they had kept you company. They stood by Ritha through the night, museum of your better days and mausoleum of your worst, a graveyard for all the dead souls you could never afford to grieve.

Even now, they come in pairs. Always.

Always on that same quest, with that same vanity, that same conviction you'd once held that this time will be the last one. That strength of will and strength of arms will bring the Cycle to a halt, make of recurrence a bad dream. That evil is without and not hiding within.

You cannot answer their questions; not in ways that satisfy them, that do not lead the cogs of fate to careening even faster. You've attempted many a time, and you have failed every last one. You cannot lift their burdens from their shoulders nor their minds, not without fracturing their beauty or damaging their purpose — but you can grant them the kindness of a night spent in a warm room. You can grant them all plushy beds, good music, and hearty dinners.

Every meal is different. You make a point of it. History and human nature may twist all things into echoes, but to your many successors — these people who, like you once did, crave naught more than being special — you can grant this one, painstakingly handmade bite of uniqueness. It takes patience and much research, but by the time each new Prophet comes to ring the bell at your gates, a new recipe awaits them, each prepared to suit its diner. Each crafted with just as much care as the wood you carve afterwards, a brand new ghost of a soon-to-be-dead world left to haunt your halls.

You travel far, for these dinners. You've crossed oceans by boat and spell, climbed atop mountains with bare feet. You have never done things halfway, and you are more than determined to spare no expense for this one. If time and fate cannot let you be more than a cook for a night, then you will cook to perfection — for the sake of your successors, and for the sake of memory.

Yet another thing to collect, to store in the vaults of your mind as a trace of a world gone by. Of lesser value to the world than your artworks and artifacts, but priceless to your soul as practice of how to remain human.

The last meal you served, you prepared from Nehrimese game and poultry, with potatoes and tomatoes picked in Ostian with your own hand. Wild apples, cranberries, and leek, you'd plucked from across the Sun Coast, and the wild herbs and juniper had been grown in your own garden. You'd sun-dried it all a little, made sure that the meat had aged well, then set it to roast over open flames until it charred just right. You'd made the broth from rainwater and copious amounts of sea salt; a little algae for texture, mixed with a spoon you'd carved yourself. It had tasted of home and doubt and charcoal in equal measure, all served in your best silverware, with your best wine, your best efforts — and every last bit of oblique warning you could weave into words.

They come in pairs, always, and so had they, of course. They'd left the plates just as untouched as all the others before them; ignored your statues, your recital, the true meaning of your letter. You'd left them the casket with just as heavy a heart as ever, then you had let your routine complete, left hope behind, and moved on.

You feel no need to watch the end. The white light always burns the same, each shriveled corpse a new proof of your failure to bring Ritha home.

Yet there had been no empty world waiting when you returned, this time. The mountains had stood tall, still bearing your likeness, yet a handful of impossible birds had flown the skies. The cliff had been shaken, some of its rock unmoored, but it, too, had held some rare life — a handful of mayflies and a cricket or two, buzzing atop this or that stone. Your wrought-iron fence had caved under the strength of some unseen wind, and yet the world had still been there, gray and old, right beyond the bars.

The grass had been laden with dust, the trees fallen, the skies cloudy, and you had stood as if struck dumb by the lack of complete silence.

You'd expected a vacuum, or two god-kings in their heaven.

You hadn't expected ruin to be confined to Enderal.

You had barely dared to explore, fearing any word, any breath could send the gears spinning anew. You'd kept to your abode and your not-so-deserted cliff, observing from afar, watching the winter turn. You'd been careful — and you still are — to not let hope flare up too soon. There have been outliers before. Ritha and you, so long ago. Eras lasting longer than most. Beacons lit with a slight delay. Emissaries assassinated only for new ones to rise.

Still the moons came and turned, the birds sang, and the crickets chirped. Still new small things — a frog, a mouse — came to rest on your windowsills, the shadow of a Myrad sometimes passing by the mountaintops. And still, one day, a boat sailed by flying the flag of Arazeal, almost surreal in the fog.

They come in pairs, always, and it takes them thousands of years. But this one rings your bell alone, a mere three years after the last. And when he comes, he bears a smile and a wine bottle in each hand, as if you were some good old friend he was all too happy to see.

"Greetings, Mysir Gajus," he says with a crooked smile, unkempt gray hair plastered to his face by the wind and pouring rain. "And to your companion as well. Our gratitude to both of you."

You remember the man, of course, from his roguish air to his stilted attempts at conversation. He is, much like the world, both old and new alike, seeming fragile — brittle, almost — in his continued existence.

He reminds you of Elimar before the light had taken him, and you have not been reminded of Elimar in quite some time.

"A dear friend of mine thought you in need of drinks and a long story," he goes on as you stay silent. "I happen to be Enderal's best and last remaining expert on inebriated chatter — and decent enough company to share bottles with, I've been told. Though you may have higher standards. I would never dare to presume."

You let the words wash over you to pay attention to his voice, the sadness under the humor, the tense wrinkles around his eyes. It answers most of your questions, and quite a few others besides.

You gather there will be no need for a second guest bed, this time.

"Forgive me, Mysir Dal'Varek," you answer him at length, walking all the way to your gates. "My manners seem to have taken their leave of me in my old age. Must I open the gate for you, or will you find a way to tresspass into my home unaided?"

"Wise Hermit, no, no," the man stutters, having, it seems, acquired some sense since your last encounter. "No, I've just come to bring our sympathies and a peace offering. Endralean wine. The very last! Dug out and rescued from the brewery two weeks ago, by yours truly, and after quite a bit of effort if I do say so myself. Not quite the brooch of a Seraph," he smiles that self-deprecating grin of Elimar's once more, "but more enjoyable, I'd say."

You stare at the man through the gate, arms crossed over your chest, brow furrowed. Still young and more than a bit of a fool, for all that his hair is whiter than yours and his eyes just as tired. You tap your foot, consider chances, wonder what eventualities could spring from an open door. No danger to you, you are sure; compared to your magical might, the man is but a babe in arms. But dangers to an auspicious fate are not so easily measured, and you find yourself frustrated, wishing you could merely observe.

You could. You'd only have to leave. But then when would there next come to be a man standing at your door, bearing nothing but gratitude, sympathy, and a cup of wine?

"You visit is... unexpected," you admit, for lack of better words. "And quite a surprise, to be frank."

"But a pleasant surprise, I hope," Dal'Varek answers, raising both of his bottle-filled hands.

The bottles are tied with ribbons, hastily cut from dust-spotted fabric. Some sort of old green cloth, perhaps, likely salvaged from the ruins. The rain plasters them to the glass like the man's hair to his forehead, but you still appreciate the attention, for some reason. Some old memory, perhaps.

"I find myself in the position of being uncertain, for once," you reply to the rain-drenched man, a rare, wry smile coming to stretch the corners of your lips. "Time will tell, as it always does."

Dal'Varek nods, as if he could have the slightest conception of how much you mean by the words. But then, what had Elimar been, if not charmingly impudent?

"So," Dal'Varek continues, giving the two bottles a shake. "Would you prefer to begin with the drinks, or with the long story?"

"Why not begin with the story," you tell the waiting man as you make to open your gates. "It so happens that I have just set meat to cook on the fire — though nothing quite so carefully prepared as for your last visit. If you'll forgive the humbler fare, then there is room at my table."

"Why not," the man nods, his smile tainted an instant by memories. "We didn't take the chance to taste it at all last time. Our apologies for the waste. It did look delicious."

You shake your head in humor as you step aside to let Dal'Varek pass, gesturing him onto the path with a hand as you close the gates again. The hinges whine like cattle to the slaughter, as they always do, but you find that the sound, for once, is not quite as mournful as you've grown to expect.

"Worry yourself not, Mysir Dal'Varek," you reassure the man. "It has been quite some time since I was last upset by the wastefulness of mankind."

"...I suppose it would," he agrees, cordially enough. "I suppose you have much better wine to drink than this one, as well."

"I do indeed," you say, laying a hand on his shoulder as you both begin to make your way up the path to your abode. "Nevertheless," you add, "I appreciate the spirit of the offer — and its sentimental value."

Dal'Varek nods mutely by your side, eyes fleeting from one statue to the next. He does not stop or slow his steps, but he greets them all as he passes, bowing his head, whispering thanks. Better thanks than fright, you suppose.

Better late than never at all.

"Who knows," you tell the man, "it way still age quite well. Endralean 8234 could yet prove a fine vintage."

"Here's to hope," Dal'Varek concurs — and there his smile finally breaks, the silent shudders of sobbing beginning to shake his shoulders.

You were never a man for embraces and soothing words, but you know Ritha would speak them, if she were standing in your place. And so you let your hand leave Dal'Varek's shoulder to circle his back, and run it through his hair, pressing his head to your shoulder to let him cry into your coat.

"Yes," you comfort Jespar Dal'Varek and the ghost of Elimar both, as you see them into your house like dreams rather than bad memories. "Here's to hope springing eternal."

Titular song and lyrics on Youtube

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: To the Beat

Summary: Whilst taking her son to dance classes, Belle meets the shy pianist, Mr Gold.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “Limelight, sparkle, tap”

Rated: G

To the Beat

Ever since she could remember, Belle had loved old musical movies. Colour or black and white, it didn’t matter, as long as there was beautiful dancing and catchy music, she could watch the magic weaved on the silver screen for hours. Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly, Rosemary Clooney; they were her idols and remained so long into adulthood. She’d grown up wanting to be Judy Garland or Ann Miller (or maybe both at the same time).

She’d never had the voice, but she’d taken tap and ballet lessons well into her teens. She’d never been able to make a career of it, but as a hobby, it still filled her with joy over twenty years later, and watching the glamour and sparkle of the silver screen never failed to make her smile whatever life might throw at her.

Naturally, with so many old movies in the house and with the musical soundtracks always playing in the background to whatever domestic task his mother was performing, it was almost a foregone conclusion that Gideon would inherit Belle’s love for the classics. He watched with gleeful awe as she recreated famous dance sequences in the living room (‘Good morning’ from Singin’ in the Rain was a favourite), and he was tapping his feet in time with the music even before he could walk. Belle had always held a secret hope that he’d follow in her own dancing footsteps, but she didn’t want to force it on him.

It was a rainy Friday in September when she got the first inklings of Gideon’s show business ambitions, when he came home from school in the obvious throes of distress.

“Gid? What’s the matter, love? Did something happen at school?”

Gideon nodded, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t decide between anger or sadness; once he was sat down on the sofa with milk and cookies and Belle was settled on the floor in front of him, he seemed to have decided on indignation.

“What happened, Gid?”

“We were talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up,” Gideon said. “And I said I wanted to be a tap dancer like Fred Astaire.”

Belle’s heart leapt to her mouth, but she pushed down her excitement, because this revelation was definitely contributing to making Gideon unhappy. “Ok. So then what happened?”

“Then the other boys started laughing at me! They said that boys don’t tap dance, that’s a girly thing!”

Belle was completely blown sideways by this. She’d never even considered dancing being gendered like that before. The famous tap dancers she’d adored in her youth were a mixture of men and women.

“That’s just silly,” she said firmly. “Especially when you told them that you wanted to be like Fred Astaire, who’s very obviously a man.”

“I know that!” Gideon exclaimed. “And the teacher said that too! But then at break, they said that Fred Astaire didn’t count because he’s only in old films, and that these days, tap dancers are all girls!”

Belle resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculous notions that some kids had had put into their heads, and for a moment she seriously considered gathering all the parents of Storybrooke together and making them sit through her entire musical collection, over 500 hours of it in total.

“Good grief. They have a very narrow-minded view of the world, Gid, and I pity them. If you want to be a dancer, then you can go ahead and be a dancer.”  

Gideon’s face lit up. “Can I really Mom? Will you teach me?”

“No, love. I don’t know enough to teach you.” Gideon’s face fell, but then brightened when she continued. “We’ll get you some proper lessons with a professional at the dance school in town.”

Ever since he’d been born, Belle had been saving for dance lessons for Gideon. Well, she told everyone that it was his college fund, which it would have been if this moment had never occurred. Now, she could put that fund to good use.

“That would be brilliant, Mom!” He paused, deep in serious thought. “Would there be other boys there, though? I don’t want to be the only boy.”

“I’m sure that there will be other boys there, but we’ll see when we go along. Shall we take a look on Saturday?”

Gideon’s response was a huge hug, which Belle took to be a definitive yes.

X

As soon as Miss Mal, former ballerina and current principal of the Storybrooke Dance School, showed them into the room where the beginner’s tap dance classes were taking place and Gideon saw that he was not going to be the only boy there, Belle knew that she had lost him. He was in his element already as the teacher invited him to join in with the class even though he didn’t have tap shoes yet. Belle was just content to watch him, until Miss Mal took her through into her office to sort out the paperwork for getting Gideon enrolled.

On their way to deal with administrative matters, they passed the other mirrored studio, this one set up for ballet with a barre running around the edge, and Mal stepped inside for a moment to speak to the teacher. The class was young, elementary school girls taking their first steps to the tinkling piano music coming from the corner by the door. Belle glanced across at the pianist, a small, thin man with greying hair and dark eyes. As he caught her gaze, she smiled, and he gave a minute smile back before his face flushed bright pink and he turned his attention back to the music, studying it with intensity even though Belle could tell that he must have played the same tunes over and over and could probably do it with his eyes closed.

At that moment, the lesson came to an end, with Miss Mal supervising the curtseying.

“That was very good, girls. Thank you for your hard work this week.”

There was a chorus of thanks to Miss Briar for the lesson and thanks to Mr Gold for the piano, and the girls started to file out of the room. Miss Mal came back over to Belle as Mr Gold began to gather up his music. He kept his head down as he rushed out of the room past Belle, leaving her feeling rather confused and wondering what she’d done wrong.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like that,” Miss Mal said as they continued down the corridor.

No more was said on the topic of Mr Gold, but even after Belle had collected Gideon again and they were on their way home, Gideon enthusing about all the steps he was going to learn, she still couldn’t help thinking about the shy little pianist.

Over the course of the next few months, Belle tried to find out a little more about the mysterious Mr Gold, from the snippets that she picked up from Gideon and what little she overheard among the other parents. She really was intrigued by him, and the fact that he always had a smile and a ready word of praise for the kids, and indeed always had a ready smile and glance for her, but he clammed up as soon as Belle tried to actually talk to him. He had a gift of melting into the background as soon as the music was done, avoiding everyone.

So far, all she had managed to learn was that he’d played piano for the school ever since it had opened, that his son taught adult ballroom dance in the evenings, and his goddaughter was studying for a scholarship to full time ballet school.

She probably shouldn’t be so interested. He was shy and he didn’t like talking to strangers, so Belle wasn’t going to force her conversation onto him. She’d just always liked a good mystery, and all of the other staff were so chatty with the parents.

It wasn’t until the end of term show that she found any answers.

Each of the junior classes performed a piece in the little revue, held on the last Saturday of the term, showing off what they had learned to their parents. Gideon only had a small part, showing off the steps he had learned over the past couple of months, but he enjoyed his time in the limelight, and Belle’s hands were sore from applauding him. She wouldn’t change it for the world, and she would be forever grateful that something that brought her so much joy could also make her son so very happy.

After the performance, there were refreshments, and Belle was chatting amiably with the other parents, Gideon absorbed with his new friends trying to teach himself some of the steps that the older kids had performed and making a fearful racket in the process. She noticed that Mr Gold had once more vanished. Perhaps he just didn’t like large crowds. She hoped that he’d at least got a cup of tea before he disappeared, and his jacket was still lying on top of the piano on the stage so he had to be around somewhere. Belle bit her lip, wondering whether he would appreciate being found or not. They’d exchanged smiles and glances so many times, which she’d always found to be encouraging, but he was never around when she actually had the opportunity to speak to him.

Belle took a deep breath, took a couple of fairy cakes from the refreshment table, and left the room in search of Mr Gold. Once she was outside the main hall, he was surprisingly easy to track down. Piano music was coming from the ballet studio, something beautiful and complicated, a piece meant to be listened to, not danced to.

Belle peeped around the door, but the music didn’t stop; Gold was totally absorbed in it. It was only once the piece came to its coda that he looked up and saw her. He startled, a rabbit in the headlights, and Belle gave an awkward wave, holding up the cakes.

“I didn’t want you to miss out,” she said.

Gold opened his mouth to respond, closed it as if he’d suddenly thought better of it, and then took a deep breath.

“Th-th-thank you.”

With those two words, everything fell into place. Gold didn’t like to talk to anyone because he had a stammer.

“That was beautiful,” she said. “Beethoven, wasn’t it?”

Gold nodded, and he put his fingers back on the keys, playing a light, tinkling tune, his attention still fixed firmly on Belle.

“You son is in the t-t-tap class?”

“Yes. He loves it. He wants to be the next Fred Astaire.”

“He’s g-got the p-p-p…” Gold sighed. “P-p-p… Oh, you know.”

“Thank you. He’ll be so proud to know you think so.”

The music continued on, a little soundtrack to their conversation.

“Music h-helps me t-talk,” Gold said presently. “C-can’t hear myself as much. Gives me something else t-to concentrate on. The r-rhythm helps t-too.”

Belle had read about aiding people with stammers whilst she’d been training as a librarian; it tied in with helping kids to learn to read aloud. Listening to music whilst speaking and tapping out the beats of syllables and sentences were both tried and tested methods, so it made sense that Gold found comfort in playing whilst he talked.

They continued to talk for a while; well, Belle did most of the talking, but it was still a conversation, until Gideon came in looking for her. It was time to go home.

“Bye, Mr Gold,” Gideon said cheerfully.

“G-goodbye. And th-thank you.” He smiled at Belle. “For your p-p-p… p-patience.”

“Any time. Maybe we could chat agaain sometime?”

Gold nodded. “I’d l-like that.”

Belle could have waltzed on air out of the dance school.

[phroyd]

Doris Day, the freckle-faced movie actress whose irrepressible personality and golden voice made her America’s top box-office star in the early 1960s, died on Monday at her home in Carmel Valley, Calif. She was 97.

The Doris Day Animal Foundation announced her death.

Ms. Day began her career as a big-band vocalist, and she was successful almost from the start: One of her first records, “Sentimental Journey,” released in 1945, sold more than a million copies, and she went on to have numerous other hits. The bandleader Les Brown, with whom she sang for several years, once said, “As a singer Doris belongs in the company of Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra.”

But it was the movies that made her a star.

Between “Romance on the High Seas” in 1948 and “With Six You Get Eggroll” in 1968, she starred in nearly 40 movies. On the screen she turned from the perky girl next door in the 1950s to the woman next door in a series of 1960s sex comedies that brought her four first-place rankings in the yearly popularity poll of theater owners, an accomplishment equaled by no other actress except Shirley Temple.

In the 1950s she starred, and most often sang, in comedies (“Teacher’s Pet,” “The Tunnel of Love”), musicals (“Calamity Jane,” “April in Paris,” “The Pajama Game”) and melodramas (“Young Man With a Horn,” the Alfred Hitchcock thriller “The Man Who Knew Too Much,” “Love Me or Leave Me”).

James Cagney, her co-star in “Love Me or Leave Me,” said Ms. Day had “the ability to project the simple, direct statement of a simple, direct idea without cluttering it.” He compared her performance to Laurette Taylor’s in “The Glass Menagerie” on Broadway in 1945, widely hailed as one of the greatest performances ever given by an American actor.

She went on to appear in “Pillow Talk” (1959), “Lover Come Back” (1961) and “That Touch of Mink” (1962), fast-paced comedies in which she fended off the advances of Rock Hudson (in the first two films) and Cary Grant (in the third). Those movies, often derided today as examples of the repressed sexuality of the ’50s, were considered daring at the time.

“I suppose she was so clean-cut, with perfect uncapped teeth, freckles and turned-up nose, that people just thought she fitted the concept of a virgin,” Mr. Hudson once said of Ms. Day. “But when we began ‘Pillow Talk’ we thought we’d ruin our careers because the script was pretty daring stuff.” The movie’s plot, he said, “involved nothing more than me trying to seduce Doris for eight reels.”

Following “Pillow Talk,” which won Ms. Day her sole Academy Award nomination, she was called on to defend her virtue for the rest of her career in similar but lesser movies, while Hollywood turned to more honest and graphic screen sex to keep up with the revolution sweeping the world after the introduction of the birth control pill.

Ms. Day turned down the part of Mrs. Robinson, the middle-aged temptress who seduces Dustin Hoffman, in the groundbreaking 1967 film “The Graduate,” because, she said, the notion of an older woman seducing a young man “offended my sense of values.” The part went to Anne Bancroft, who was nominated for an Academy Award.

By the time she retired in 1973, after starring for five years on the hit CBS comedy “The Doris Day Show,” Ms. Day had been dismissed as a goody-two-shoes, the leader of Hollywood’s chastity brigade, and, in the words of the film critic Pauline Kael, ”the all-American middle-aged girl.” The critic Dwight Macdonald wrote of “the Doris Day Syndrome” and defined her as “wholesome as a bowl of cornflakes and at least as sexy.”

But the passing decades have brought a reappraisal, especially by some feminists, of Ms. Day’s screen personality and her achievements. In her book “Holding My Own in No Man’s Land” (1997), the critic Molly Haskell described Ms. Day as “challenging, in her working-woman roles, the limited destiny of women to marry, live happily ever after and never be heard from again.”

Ms. Day in fact was one of the few actresses of the 1950s and ’60s to play women who had a real profession, and her characters were often more passionate about their career than about their co-stars.

“My public image is unshakably that of America’s wholesome virgin, the girl next door, carefree and brimming with happiness,” she said in “Doris Day: Her Own Story,” a 1976 book by A. E. Hotchner based on a series of interviews he conducted with Ms. Day. “An image, I can assure you, more make-believe than any film part I ever played. But I am Miss Chastity Belt, and that’s all there is to it.”

An Aspiring Dancer

Doris Day was born Doris Mary Anne Kappelhoff in Cincinnati on April 3, 1922. (For years most sources gave her birth year as 1924, and so did she. But shortly before her birthday in 2017, The Associated Press obtained a copy of her birth certificate from the Ohio Office of Vital Statistics and established that she had been born two years earlier. After Ms. Day was shown the evidence, she said in a statement, “I’ve always said that age is just a number and I have never paid much attention to birthdays, but it’s great to finally know how old I really am.”) She was the second child of Frederick William von Kappelhoff, a choral master and piano teacher who later managed restaurants and taverns in Cincinnati, and Alma Sophia (Welz) Kappelhoff. Her parents separated when she was a child.

Ms. Day never wanted to be a movie star. At 15 she was a good enough dancer to win the $500 first prize in an amateur contest. Her mother and the parents of her 12-year-old partner used the money to take them both to Los Angeles for professional dancing lessons. The families intended to move west permanently, but Doris’s right leg was shattered when the automobile in which she was riding was hit by a train.

To distract Doris during the year it took the leg to mend, her mother — who had named her after a movie star, Doris Kenyon — paid for singing lessons. She was a natural.

Ms. Day told Mr. Hotchner that another important thing happened during her year of recuperation: She was given a small dog. “It was the start of what was, for me, a lifelong love affair with the dog,” she said.

That first dog, Tiny, was killed by a car when Ms. Day, still on crutches, took him for a walk without a leash. Nearly 40 years later she spoke of how she had betrayed him. During the last decades of her life, through her foundation, Ms. Day spent much of her time rescuing and finding homes for stray dogs, even personally checking out the backyards and fencing of people who wanted to adopt, and she worked to end the use of animals in cosmetic and household-products research.

After the accident, Ms. Day never went back to school. At 17, having traded her crutches for a cane, she sang in a local club where the owner changed her name because Kappelhoff wouldn’t fit on the marquee. After a few months as a singer with Bob Crosby and His Bobcats in Chicago, she joined Les Brown and His Blue Devils.

Singing was just something to do until she married. ”From the time I was a little girl,” she told Mr. Hotchner, “my only true ambition in life was to get married and tend house and have a family.”

But while Ms. Day was instantly successful as a singer and a movie actress, she was fated always to marry the wrong men. By the time she made her first movie she had been married and divorced twice.

Her first husband, Al Jorden, a trombone player, was violently jealous and had an uncontrollable temper. He hit her on the second day of their marriage and continued to beat her when she became pregnant and refused to have an abortion. She was married at 19, divorced and a mother at 20.

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But she was undaunted. “All my life,” she told Mr. Hotchner, “I have known that I could work at whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.”

Her second husband, George Weidler, a saxophonist, was a gentle man. She was happily living with him in a trailer park in Los Angeles when he left, after telling her that he thought she was going to become a big star and that he didn’t want to be Mr. Doris Day.

She was approached at a Hollywood party by the songwriters Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne, who had written the score for “Romance on the High Seas,” a movie planned for Judy Garland. But Garland had turned the role down and Betty Hutton, her replacement, was withdrawing because she was pregnant. Warner Bros. was desperate, and the songwriters insisted that Ms. Day audition for the part.

“Acting in films had never so much as crossed my mind,” she later said.

As candid in real life as her perky screen characters, Ms. Day admitted to the movie’s director, Michael Curtiz, that she had never acted before. But “from the first take onward, I never had any trepidation about what I was called on to do,” she said. “Movie acting came to me with greater ease and naturalness than anything else I had ever done.”

Reviewing “Romance on the High Seas” in The New York Herald Tribune, Howard Barnes wrote, “She has much to learn about acting, but she has personality enough to take her time about it.”

Playing the Wholesome Girl

Under personal contract to Mr. Curtiz, Ms. Day followed “Romance on the High Seas” with a series of musical comedies in which she played the pert and wholesome girl with hair and personality the color of sunlight. But even in the early 1950s she was nobody’s fool, and her characters had an unusual resilience, cockiness and competence.

In “By the Light of the Silvery Moon” (1953), about the trials of a small-town family, Ms. Day is first seen repairing her boyfriend’s car. If her fearless sharpshooting title character in “Calamity Jane” (1953) is finally induced to exchange her buckskins for a dress to wed Howard Keel’s Wild Bill Hickock, she still slips her six-shooter into her pocket to take along on the honeymoon.

And when Ms. Day opened her mouth to sing, the effect was magical. She had a perfectly controlled voice that brimmed with emotion. “It’s Magic,” which she sang in “Romance on the High Seas,” and “I’ll Never Stop Loving You,” which she sang in ”Love Me or Leave Me,” were nominated for Academy Awards for best song. The two with which she is especially identified, “Secret Love,” from “Calamity Jane,” and “Que Sera, Sera,” from “The Man Who Knew Too Much,” won Oscars.

“Doris Day was the most underrated film musical performer of all time,” said Miles Kreuger, president of the Institute of the American Musical. “If only she had been at MGM instead of Warner Bros., they’d have given her challenging roles.”

When Ms. Day did get a chance to stretch as an actress, she could be memorable. In “Love Me or Leave Me” (1955), she gave a stirring performance as the singer Ruth Etting, whose life and career were dominated by a violent manager-husband who had ties to gangsters. She held her own against James Cagney’s powerful performance as the husband and flawlessly sang Etting classics like “Ten Cents a Dance” and “Chasing the Blues Away.”

Ms. Day married for a third time in 1951. Although that marriage, to Martin Melcher, her manager, seemed happy, she discovered after Mr. Melcher’s death in 1968 that he and his lawyer had embezzled or frittered away the $20 million she had earned and had left her $500,000 in debt. She agreed to star in a situation comedy to earn the money to pay off her debts.

That proved to be a wise move financially; “The Doris Day Show” had an extremely successful five-year run. (It underwent a number of changes in that time. Ms. Day’s character, a widow who lived on a ranch with her two children, got a job at a magazine in San Francisco in the show’s second season, and by the fourth season her children had been written out of the show.)

James Garner, who co-starred with Ms. Day in two 1963 films, “The Thrill of It All” and “Move Over, Darling,” told Mr. Hotchner, “Marty was a hustler, a shallow, insecure hustler who always ripped off $50,000 on every one of Doris’s films as the price for making the deal.”

Ms. Day sued the lawyer, Jerome Rosenthal, and eventually won a judgment for more than $22 million in 1974. In a 1986 interview Terry Melcher, her son by Al Jorden, said that she eventually got some of the money from an insurance company but “nothing like that amount.”

In 1976 Ms. Day married Barry Comden, a sometime restaurant manager 11 years her junior. They were divorced in 1981. During her marriage to Mr. Comden, she moved from Los Angeles to Carmel, the picture-postcard town along the California coast where she and her son became part owners of the pet-friendly Cypress Inn. For the rest of her life she lived on a seven-acre estate with many more dogs than the zoning laws allowed. In the 1985-86 television season she was the host of “Doris Day’s Best Friends,” on the Christian Broadcasting Network, which focused on animal welfare.

Terry Melcher, her only child, who became a successful record producer, died in 2004.

In 2011, three years after she received a lifetime achievement Grammy Award, Ms. Day surprised a lot of people by releasing her first album in almost 20 years, “My Heart,” which consisted mostly of songs she had recorded for “Doris Day’s Best Friends” but never released commercially.

Ms. Day, who summed up her fatalistic philosophy in the words of one of her biggest hits, “Que Sera, Sera” (“What will be, will be”), never liked unhappy endings. She told one interviewer: “It upsets me when the hero or heroine dies. I would like them to live happily ever after.”

But, except in movies, nobody lives happily ever after. Ms. Day told Mr. Hotchner: “During the painful and bleak periods I’ve suffered through these past years, my animal family has been a source of joy and strength to me. I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent, devoted companionship of your pets that you can get from no other source.”

“I have never found in a human being,” she added, “loyalty comparable to that of any pet.”

Phroyd

[whileiamdying]

MILES DAVIS: BIRD OF PARADISE 

He was much more than a trumpeter, but also a bandleader able to recognize talent. He brought some of the most famous jazz men in history together as his sidemen. A man of extremes; at one point a 20-minute jam, another complete silence. His constant evolution changed the history of jazz and the way we know it. He went through many periods and transitions. Maybe it was his quest to be uncategorized. Miles Dewey Davis was born May 26, 1926 in Alton, IL to a middle-class environment. His father was a dental surgeon and his mother a music teacher. He started trumpet lessons at age twelve after receiving the horn from his father as a birthday gift. By the time he was getting enough work to warrant going out own. He accepted jobs on the weekends in his St. Louis based band. Just after high school, Billy Eckstine's big band came to town and a young Miles Davis was allowed to sit in. Davis went to New York to study at Julliard (then called the Institute of Musical Art). Soon after arriving in Manhattan he began playing clubs with Parker and by 1945, had joined Benny Carter's band and made his first recordings. He then dropped out o Juilliard to pursue his professional music career. He played with Eckstine from 1946-47 and Parker from 1947-48. In 1948, Dav nine-piece band signed with Capitol Records after a successful engagement at the Royal Roost. They recorded their first sessions released in 1957, but to little applause until the twelve tracks were released in1957 as an LP called Birth Of The Cool, an album that would have a profound effect on cool jazz.) In 1949, Davis co-lead a band with pianist Tadd Dameron where they performed at the Paris Jazz Festival. At this time he was putting his recordings out on the Prestige label, he was addicted to heroin and his performances were not always their best. But he miraculously kicked the habit by the mid-50's After a stunning performance at the Newport Jazz Festival, he signed ith major label Columbia Records. This contract gave him the bud get to put together a permanent quintet consisting of John Coltrane saxophone), Red Garland (piano), Paul Chambers (bass) and Philly Joe Jones (drums). While fulfilling his agreement with Prestige for albums, he teamed with arranger Gil Evans in 1958 for his second Columbia LP, Miles Ahead. This album would later be inducted into the Grammy Hall Of Fame. Davis then began experimenting much more with improvisation, instead of more structured songs He renamed his Columbia group, the Miles Davis Sextet and added new members Cannonball Adderly (saxophone), Bill Evans (piano) and Jimmy Cobb (drums). This lineup created Davis most popular recording, the two-million selling Kind Of Blue and as if this wasn't enough, another Davis / Evans collaboration, Sketches Of Spain won a Grammy the following year. A series of lineups changes followed and four albums even touched the Pop charts. In the late 60's, Davis had begun electrifying his trumpet by putting it through a wah-wah pedal and even distortion. He had met Jimi Hendrix and some said it had a profound effect on him. As always, he was changing, and also changing the boundaries of jazz. There had been a five-year run with Quintet members Wayne Shorter (saxophone, replaced George Coleman in 1964), Herbie Hancock (keyboards), Ron Carter (bass) and Tony Williams (drums). Davis wanted to be more blues based. He said, "See, when I used to listen to Muddy Waters in Chicago, down on 33rd and Michigan, every Monday when he played there and I would be in town, I knew I had to get some of what he was doing up in my music." In 1969, recording for the double-LP Bitches Brew commenced. Davis took twelve new high-caliber musicians and did something that had never been done before. The album was recorded in three all-day jam sessions according to Davis' sketches, then purposely edited later. The six songs filled a double album. Not only was this his first gold record, but it also won a Grammy and started a new type of jazz called fusion. Soon more albums would reach the pop charts and Davis seemed to have free reign as the ringmaster of jazz. In 1972, after breaking his ankles in an accident, he became less active. And after receiving hip replacement surgery in 1975 and due to illness, he gave up recording for five years. He returned to touring and recording again in 1981. As the public expected him to rest and rely on his merits of yesteryear, Davis continued against the grain and wore flamboyant clothes and hair extensions, even recording with rapper Easy Mo Bee. Miles Davis died September 28, 1991 at age sixty-five in Santa Monica, CA of pneumonia, respiratory failure and a stroke. He continued to be recognized as an innovator by posthumously winning the Grammy two more times with Doo-Bop (1992) and Miles and Quincy Live At Montreux (1993). He married three times and had four children. He has been awarded a total of seven Grammy awards including the Lifetime Achievement Award. Never has anyone so single-handedly invented so many colors of a musical genre. Miles Davis had no limits.

— Tim Branom

[murderballadeer]

Tag Game

Tagged by: @an-elephant--never----forgets

Nickname: My aunt and uncle call me Lu, my mom calls me Lulu and my dad calls me a lot of different things.

Zodiac: Pisces

Height: 5′3″

Last Movie: The Philadelphia Story (1940)

Last thing I googled: "conjugaison du verbe écrire” – I was having a memory blank.

Favourite Musician[s]:

Judy Garland/Billie Holiday/Solomon Burke/Ivie Anderson.

Song stuck in my head: Nothing at the moment, but my sister is humming something that we played in band at school the other day and if she doesn’t stop soon I’ll probably have it in my head.

Other blogs: @weird-old-hollywood @old-hollywood-suggestion @stuff-lucie-wrote

Do I get asks: Yes, and I’d love to get more!

Blogs following: 120.

Amount of sleep: Usually 8-9 hours, mostly at least 4 or five and at most 10 or 11.

Lucky numbers: 8

What I’m wearing: blue pajama pants, pink T-shirt, blue bathrobe. I have the flu so I didn’t get dressed today.

Dream job: I’d like to be a therapist and work with kids.

Dream trip: Europe. I’ve never been and it’s been a dream of mine for a while.

Favourite food: lately I’ve been craving French toast.

Instruments: Alto saxophone and a bit of piano, but I haven’t had a lesson in like 6 years.

Languages: English, French, and I’m trying to learn Spanish.

Songs: Honestly it’s been a long time since I’ve consciously listened to music.

Describe yourself with aesthetic things: 40s/50s MGM musicals, vintage sewing pattern art, tiny floral prints, early spring flowers like crocuses and daffodils, bubble baths, soft blues or jazz music.

I tag: @celiabedelia @thevintagious @genelizatierney @sinatraswooners @thatweirdvintagegirl @avasgal @aintthatakick @classicfilmgirl @classic-flicks-chick @her-man-friday @pierangelis @top-hat-white-tie-and-tails @yesterdaysprint

[vogel-lynne]

The Christmas recital

Disclaimer: I know it's too soon and at the same time too late for a short story set in December, but I found right now time to post it.

Giancarlo was observing impatiently the suitcases on the conveyor belt while scrolling whatsapp notifications. He had just arrived in London with Ralf and Olivier, two of his Beyblade teammates.

All three of them were invited by Johnny at the special Christmas show hosted by his new school and the Italian boy had to say no to a luxurious weekend in Ischia with some of his classmates: "Ah, come on!"

"Take a deep breath and relax! It'll be fun to see!" Olivier was over excited instead; it was an occasion to discover Johnny's new friends as well and also to meet him in person after the big big scandal that made him famous: in November, after an escape from his mansion in Scotland followed by a long disappearance he discovered to be the son of a famous rockstar who was even featured in various NME, Rolling Stone and Q Mag monthly issues. A real artist that had already become Johnny's role model before he turned out not to descend from the McGregor household.

Everyone was still gossiping about it and he became the most followed of the Majestics on social media.

Giancarlo's baggage was the last to arrive. Ralf kept silent all the time; he was afraid to be judged negatively by Johnny's schoolmates for he knew they took his place as the redhead's best friends. Instagram was full of videos in which they were singing, having a ball or doing school things together.

As they got out of the luggage claim area, they immediately recognised a young brown-haired man who waved both of his arms in their direction; his name was Harvey and previously worked as a butler for the McGregors. He also introduced Liberty and rock music to Johnny and gave him shelter for a few nights when he got away from home: "How are you, lads?" He was all smiles: "I hope you're not disappointed to find me here instead of your friend, but you'll see...He's been pretty busy in these last days! Basically, he's never left school, but y'know...he wants to pursue his father's same career and is very determined to perform in his best conditions!"

Giancarlo rolled up his eyes: "really? Being so focused? On a silly childish school play?" When he was 6 years old he had the Angel's role in the school's Nativity representation and his family conserved all the photos in a frame exposed in one of the halls.

As soon as they arrived in the hotel and dropped most of their bags, the quartet headed to the Tube and reached the school building after seven stops and fifteen minutes on a bus.

"I hope they will let us in!" Said Olivier.

"According to the timetable, today was the last day of lessons before the winter holidays" Ralf's voice tried to sound confident, but the disapproving stare of some students made him feel uncomfortable. Luckily the janitor wasn't as suspicious as they were when he saw three new faces belonging to European people. "Wait. We haven't asked for a permission to see the rehearsals!" Ralf stopped halfway, but the janitor offered to guide them to the auditorium: "Don't worry. Family and friends are allowed to be present during rehearsing time. Only do not disturb or create a negative atmosphere...And Don't film or take pictures! You'll be able to do so during the REAL show. It's one of the Headteacher's latest decisions after some parents complained their kid didn't appear in the photo album last year! Ah, and also don't bring too big cameras...They might annoy the rest of the audience...And I guess Johnny's presence will be enough to fill the entire auditorium!"

Nobody noticed them as they entered and occupied three spots not too far from the front row, where another group of kids was waiting to take the stage. The headteacher was moving from one corner to another; she wanted to have the best results from the performance and she knew she had to do more than just coordinating and organising. Meanwhile the music teacher was correcting some students from the choir while playing the Carol of the bells on a keyboard. Other pupils were decorating the walls with ribbons, plastic candy canes and other Christmas-y symbols.

"Oh my!" Giancarlo was astonished by the girls' indifference. He was the one to enter somewhere and get their attention immediately, but the ones from the choir stayed at their places, the artsy ones kept adding garlands and the Indian dancers were too busy adjusting their feisty sarees to lose it for some guys: "Everybody is very serious in that thing!"

"Harvey said that" Ralf was reassured not to be their target. He imagined everyone despised him because he was a part of Johnny's past and mostly because the McGregors wanted them to be friends: "But where's Johnny?"

Finally the headteacher realised they were there and invited the newest student to take the stage alongside other three boys. One of them was carrying a huge keyboard and wore his hair in a bob. He was the shortest in the group, but that didn't make him shy or afraid to be judged. Next to him stood a blonde-haired one who sat on a wooden Cajon and a ginger one who timidly waved at a girl sitting in the front row. Johnny followed him with his guitar and occupied a stool.

"It's him!" Since the day Olivier discovered Johnny was son of a rockstar, he completely changed his mind about the Scot, who got targeted as a rude and not-so-intelligent individual.

"Finally!" Beside his best friend, Gian raised his voice so much everyone turned in his direction to realize three strangers came there; Ralf desired to disappear completely. Meanwhile on stage Johnny was totally shocked, for his past and his present had just met.

"Who the hell are those lads?" Asked his blonde friend: "And why are they acting as if they knew you?"

"Well, they must be the famous European Beybladers he was teamed up with..." answered the ginger boy trying to keep calm, but the shortest one interrupted: "Come on! We have no time to waste!" Johnny nodded and made a few gestures that meant

"We'll talk about it later! Now watch this!"

The quartet started to play an acoustic version of a few Christmas classics under the music teacher's control. Although they were already friends with Johnny, the majestics couldn't have witnessed his musical progress, but only imagine him practicing every single day. That was the only key to success; Olivier knew it very well, since he had replaced his family's personal chef just because he enjoyed so much cooking.

"I expected this thing to be different..." whispered Gian, visibly bored by the fact that Johnny almost had no time for them.

"Different like what?" Olivier was curious, but he had to admit his lack of musical talent. Wneh he was little his parents sent him to violin and piano lessons, but he had several difficulties when it came to read all those black and white pages with peculiar symbols. If it was written normally, like a recipe's steps, it would've been much easier for him. And when he sang in English his accent sounded so embarrassing to his own ears.

"Hush! Your commentary is distracting us!" Johnny got upset and walked down to reassure the teacher he had the situation under control and that his friends weren't as impatient as they seemed to be.

"We're at work! NOT doing this just for fun! " Added his brown-haired schoolmate, who had a cute heart-shaped face and stood shorter than Olivier, benefit to Gian's laughter.

How could that petit, feminine and egomaniacal kid replace all three of them?

Ralf wanted to become invisible again.