The Pines of Rome are many and moving. You can’t look for them (they aren’t really in Rome, not these)
but they may steal you for your splintered memories:
When you were sweating out bug spray at band camp, rubbing your sore lips, lifting your chin to see beyond the bifocals, dodging night beetles.
Fantasia 2000 and the trippy whales: Above is below and the end is one huge gulp of air.
Whenever I hear the oboe I think of my sister. Sometimes the oboe and the bassoon play together and that is like my sister playing with my other sister. We had our moments of harmony.
The Pines of Rome aren’t really pines. They are the sounds produced from lots of different frictions. They are the crests of waves multiplying and gathering strength and interfering with one another. They are so many moving parts. What you have is really a dance or a great migration.
Some parts are messy, like a mistake. Sometimes the throat gets caught high in the voice.
Some things happen off stage.
The bass might sound like men singing in hallways. It will trick you, and you’ll love that. It will evoke birds --
(hour 1:40) http://new.livestream.com/accounts/1927261/events/2891573