musicians of old

"The Poetry of Awakening", preface, "Fanghua Poet"'s summer wake-up call.

The sound of the horn opened the prelude of the "Third Symphony", that is, the key base of the climbing path, the lowest form of the world form, and the prelude of the development of the "beginning of life".

Without any accompaniment, the pure brass vents, but it has a warm and metallic feel, and it is the brass with the most woodwind personality.

The rhythm is like sonorous steps, and the notes are marked with ">" forcibly, but the melody is based on the mourning minor key, which is tragic and bleak in its vigor.

This is so different from Fanning's first two symphonies in style that no one can relate to them, but they are consistent in their results: a head start and a direct penetration of the soul.

"This melody?"

"I don't think there's any fancy way of writing it? The rhythm pattern is so simple, without any changing sounds, and even without accompaniment. Why does it sound straightforward?"

The pupils of several music directors, big investors and hospital executives who auditioned were widened on the spot, and their inner sentences started, but they couldn't find the adjectives to continue the description.

The rough and straightforward interpretation of this opposite vocabulary is like drinking strong alcohol on an empty stomach, which makes the esophagus and stomach feel painful, and makes the heart beat more powerfully.

Some people are starting to revisit the composer's name on the first page of the score, which wasn't their focus before.

"Boom—boom!——"

In the second half of the theme, bassoons, trombones, tubas, stringed instruments and percussion began to appear in unison with down-fifth shock notes, as if imitating the sound of drumming by the hands of primitive tribal people.

The sound of the horn gradually rises as the theme progresses.

"Cha!!!"

At the highest point, the musician clacks the big cymbal, and the melody falls down.

"Reveille" is only a preview before the awakening, and the music returns to darkness and silence.

A short period of gloomy column chords connects the dull and slow unison of wind instruments.

This is called the "mystery motive".

The mystical tone represents "inanimate matter", but metaphorically speaking, it refers to "the person before entering the gate".

Like Fanning, the creator himself.

In other words, only by first recognizing the self who has not entered the door, can one understand the self who has passed through the door.

This kind of musical vocabulary is weird in Fanning's discussion. The gnosis from the glow has not yet illuminated this wasteland, and Walter can't understand Huita yet, but he can at least present the music itself faithfully.

So what everyone heard was a fragmented texture, without forming a melody in the true sense, and the only tendency was to use the French horn as the dominant color description at a very low intensity.
The muffled sound of strings springs up from all directions, creating a mystical substance like the darkness of night—strange, terrible, yet great, and the phantasms of Gnosis are now but veils.

Frankly speaking, it's just the first ensemble.

Walter naturally knew that many beats were uneven, and the dynamics were also flat. The refined expression terms have not yet been made, but the initial changes in the audience have already occurred strongly.

"Is this inspiration? Is this the world of high inspiration?"

Many big investors or hospital bosses are just arty or have administrative qualifications. They have never experienced this kind of "illusion" in their life—maybe it is an illusion—when did their perception of music details become so strong?
It was just a hasty rehearsal!

It was a reversal and change of a certain dull state in spirituality. They felt that compared with this moment, their previous state could not be regarded as open eyes at all. Although everywhere was full of vibrations from ether to astral body, the world at that time was dark. And it was as dead as ice, and now, no matter how low the inspiration is, people can realize that there seems to be something mysterious and powerful revived in nothingness.

Walter held the baton in his fingers and carefully patted in the air.

"Boom—boom boom boom/boom—" "Boom—boom boom boom/boom—"

The faint triplets of the timpani continued to beating.

"Humph." Walter motioned the bassoon and bassoon to beat.

They blow out smooth lines, full-bodied bass melodies with vibrato.

This is an ode to pastoral poetry, humming for a bar, resting for a bar, and repeating itself.

"Dawn." Walter's eyes flicked across the score again.

Simultaneously with the second humming, the flute and clarinet are in beat.

The high-octave double-tone jumps in, and the morning light pierces the clouds, bringing dawn.

"Lust!" He pointed to the trumpet.

The musicians immediately followed up roughly, blowing upwards the four notes of re, fa, la, #do on the gel membrane, and hovering over the most dissonant and most sensual #do.

"Humph."

Da Guan's praise of the pastoral scenery reappeared.

"Throbbing!" He glanced at the viola part of the score out of the corner of his eye.

A gloomy D minor chord tremolo was played at the front left of the rehearsal hall.

"Lust." "Humph."

When the two opposing motives reappear in the tremolo, their positions are subtly reversed.

The musicians felt something crack in the air.

And the six or seven people watching the rehearsal were completely dumbfounded.

With their life experience, they don't know that there are symphonic poems that can be written in this way, and can be written in this way.

What kind of tune is this! ?Someone was roaring like a tape in their hearts.

"Ascension."

Walter's eyes were like torches, his inner beat was advancing precisely, and he made a gesture with his right hand, waving upwards.

The cello and double bass, which had been silent for a long time, played a rapidly upward 7-note scale with fff strength, and then suddenly became stagnant, pulling on the lower third note.

"Da da da da da da da/da———— da————"

Greet the newborn from the breath of complete stillness.

"Hammer!"

At the last sound, the timpani, snare drums, and brass pipes slammed cruelly, and the new life was ruthlessly killed, and the fresh flesh began to rot in the soil.

"Lust!" Trumpet used violence to take on the pain.

“re/fa/la/#do! ————”

Both the musician and the listener felt that a force fell from their own skulls and crushed another force.

Its aggression is not aimed at itself, but like... the transparent glass that seals itself and the space on this side.

Glass is shattering.

"dawn."

Walter directed the voices into beats one after another, and the flute and clarinet pierced the clouds again.

"Lust." "Throbbing."

The trombone blows a dissonant d-major seventh chord, and the string tremolo begins to spread to each violin part.

"Humming." "Ascension." "Hammering!" The arrangement of bassoons, bass strings and drums proceeded.

In the first round of rehearsing the ensemble, with many flaws, it was beyond Walter's dream to have this feeling.

He felt that his spiritual platform was clear and bright, gradually getting better, even approaching the point of exhaustion.

"This kind of awakening is from the unfathomable dead silence to the awakening of notes and harmony, but the awakening of the Lord of Witness is probably not the whole of the teacher's deep inner title. It is a metaphor for the more essential "from scratch" A fundamental change is a great move to successfully break through from the most primitive and chaotic world..."

"I feel the 'basin', and I can definitely see the base of the Hui Tower. The teacher is trying to explore a mysterious and significant 'climbing road' through music works. No one can just think of him as a A contemplative, subtle singer of nature, who was highly regarded, but to him was infinitely narrow..."

In the third minute, Walter felt that his spirituality had sublimated.

Only one dream away!
He once had a solid accumulation in the church in his hometown, and in today's travel expenses career, the realm of high rank is already within sight!

The tonality is changing silently, and the theme of "Elegant March" is continued by Fanning with French horn and trumpet, the intervals jump up and down, the rhythm is stiff and piled up, and the characteristics of coldness and tyranny are becoming more and more obvious.

"Crack——" The cracks of something invisible in the air are spreading.

The music director of the Akobi Symphony Orchestra was transfixed.

"This……"

In normal times, he, who is well versed in calculating benefits, would quickly change his attitude and make the decision to replace this song with a near-official one, but now, he has lost his ability to think.

All the few passions in the old body were forcibly drawn out, and then quickly surrendered to another passion.

Like petals and leaves blown by the wind.

"Dawn." "Lust!—"

Under Walter's control, the inspirations of violence and idyllic poems are sometimes connected back and forth, some are paralleled at the same time, and some alternately circulate. They are explored, evolved, and advanced with strange and mixed rhythms, tense sounds, and extremely esoteric laws. ...

It's like an ancient ritual governed by some mysterious power.

"Throbbing!" "Humming—"

The morning light and pastoral poems are still singing without interruption.

"Ascension."

The upward scale of the cello and double bass goes from 7-notes, to 8-notes, and then to 10-notes, and there is a roller-coaster of slides in the wind and string groups.

"Hammer!!"

The moment the bass drummer in the back dropped his hammer, he suddenly felt something strange in the sky, as if some color had exploded, and a pile of stuff fell down...

"What a spectacle!!"

On a hillside in the Fox Lily Field, Fan Ning held his guitar in his arms, looked into the distance and sighed, and the summer wind blew his clothes and made a sound.

Ann finally put on the T-shirt and shorts that she usually felt more comfortable in. She squatted aside and pressed her forehead to a bunch of fox lilies at her feet.

Even if you just look at a bunch, it has a unique flower shape. Its petals are rolled back and the petals are wavy. The most distinctive feature is that the gorgeous and elegant color is like a burning flame.

Looking at the wilderness, small clouds are slowly floating, like smooth knotted white silk threads tying the bluestone-like sky, the sun is flashing across the towering mountains, orange and pink light spots are floating like foam, The changing color of the fox lilies from white to red is like a sea of ​​fire pouring on the undulating mountains.

"Teacher, do you like it?" An changed from squatting to sitting on the floor. She stretched and untied the rope that bound her hair.

"I can hear them talking." Fanning smiled with his usual melancholy.

The wind blows over the mountains, and the flowers fly all over the sky.

The aroma comes from the wind, making people feel flustered and itchy, wanting to find the culprit who provoked him.

"Really? What did the flowers of the field tell you?"

"Perhaps the next movement."

"The next movement?" Miss Nightingale blinked her eyes incredulously, "Could it be that the "Wake Up Poem" you gave Mr. Walter is just an incomplete work?"

"Teacher, is this going to be a problem?" Luna, who was holding a black umbrella on the other side, asked worriedly, "You said that you wrote in a hurry, you haven't finished it well, it's a temporary replacement, and you only have one day's rehearsal Time, you didn't go to guide it yourself, and this is just an incomplete work..."

At this moment, their senior brother Walter should be working in the rehearsal hall of the Grand Concert Hall.

"There must be no problem." Ann's expression was relaxed and confident, "The 'Fanghui Poet' will wake up completely at tonight's concert, teacher, I will tell you a happy midsummer right now, this is the flower ceremony season in southern China every year The inevitable blessing, I will tell you first if I can in the future.”

"Thank you, and I wish you happiness." Fanning still looked into the distance, "Luna, continue to tell us the origin story of 'Fanghui Poet'."

"Oh, okay." Luna raised the booklet in her hand again, "Actually, the most classic version of the story is almost over."

"In the most mainstream sects of the church, He is generally considered to be the son of the 'Primary Eater', the lord of the ancient witnesses. It is recorded in the doctrine that the 'Primary Eater' has the same origin as the world and masters the secret of swallowing. In this way, the "Fanghua Poet" may be the other aspect or the new self of the "Primary Eater", so they are all related to the "chi 'related……"

Fan Ning nodded slightly: "Then tell the next story."

During this period of time, he had already transmitted the necessary hidden knowledge to these two students by arranging protective secret rituals in the Qiming Church, and began to practice basic dream control methods.

Generally speaking, this edition of origin literature occupies the mainstream and is quite authoritative, but there are still some doubts. For example, according to the theory of "new self", "Fanghui Poet" and "Primary Eater" should have the same origin, but the latter He is the god of Jieyuan, but the former seems to be the god of quality; and according to the theory of "son of son", it seems difficult to explain the natural evil effect of kinship. Of course, the law of fertility of God of Jieyuan may be very different from the law of fertility understood by ordinary creatures Far.

Luna put the pamphlet in her satchel and began to fumble for a new pamphlet:
"In the city of Misin and the surrounding islands, which are dominated by plains, another faction of the church calls the 'Fanghua Poet' as 'Pan'. The realm of the 'pool' includes forests, countryside, sheep herding, and forces of nature, and it is also a metaphor for violence, vitality, creativity, and... sex. Well, it is also closely related to dreams of panic, restlessness, or lust..."

"The third story." Standing in the fragrant wind, Fan Ning nodded again after straightening his messy long hair: "Ann, tell us, what do you think of the oil painting that Master Luckert gave you these two days?" Research."

""Apollo and Macias"." Sitting among the fox lilies, Miss Nightingale slowly unfolded the scroll from the backpack in front of her.

"Oil on canvas, 29.5x40 cm, painted in the 80s by Ribera Joséin, a master of Romantic oil paintings in the Southern Continent. This work reproduces the scene of Macias being skinned——"

An Zai slowly told the story to the two, and just as she was about to make a preliminary appreciation of the picture, her voice stopped abruptly.

The three of them raised their heads with feeling, and looked at the city of Tiya in the southeast direction from which they came in the early morning.

"Crack!!"

It was as if they realized that they were not surrounded by air, but by glass.

And now, the glass is broken.

Flower petals rained down from the sky, and were blown by the warm fragrant wind to dance all over the sky.

And in the direction of Tiya City, there was a huge pink beam of light suddenly soaring into the sky, straight up into the sky! !