September 22, sometime in the Baroque Era, with a touch of present day.
Written with penmanship of Intermezzo, the old salt, the Able Bodied Sailor on the Phantom Acoustique.
G’day! Cotton Swift here, but me mates may call me Intermezzo, b’cause that’s the name tha’ Cap’n gave me. You may call me by me musical name, too.
Cap’n gives us each our musical names, and we all ‘r’ proud to be wearin’ ’em. We know the importance of music in ‘is life, and we feel tha’ by takin’ on our new namesake, we be acceptin’ his gracious affections.
Music plays a big role in our times, as t’music sets us apart from all the other eras. With a flourished tutti, mournfully expressive cellos, the fugues and the motets, an’ not even mentioning our fine crew o’musicians: Johann Sebastian Bach, George Frideric Handel, Domenico Scarlatti, Johann Pachelbel, and my personal favorite, Antonio Vivaldi. Ther not on our crew, mind ya. The Bach and Pachelbel and Scarlatti here are normal everyday people like you ‘n’ like me. Vivaldi may be a high-wired’n, though. He be the powder monkey, an’e been set on fire, that’n has.
Life is rich when y’ listen t’the music o’the times. Perfection lies in the chaconne, the zarzuela, the passion. It lies in the music of the old fashioned lute or the foreigner’s didgeridoo, and aye, perfection even lies in a dissonant note, the disharmony of the times – although dissonancy is a curse, its forbidd’n t’music o’ this era. But durns’t ever tell Dissy that she’s forbidden ‘r curst, ye b’hearin’ a thing’r two o’the true disharmony and injustice o’the times.
Though music o’this age be an angel’s voice and harmony be God’s own divine will, none o’the music can outshine the playin’ tha’ Cap’n can do on ‘is harpsichord.
I was a Quaker in me younger years, so I wasn’t allowed t’enjoy the sound o’ music. I was taught that music was the gaiety o’ the devil, and it was a terrible sin to partake ‘n it.
Not t’ go into me full life story here ‘n’ now, as that be a slow ‘n’ dull tale t’tell, but th’madness in me life was a turbulent storm o’er water, and I tried t’ end it out on the sea. B’the waters ‘ad a different call fer me, ‘n’ I followed it straight t’Captain’s ship. His music led me to t’ship, ‘n’ it saved me from the doom that tried t’rob me spirit away.
The music, it haunts t’seas, and on a stormy tide, if yer on another sloop ‘r galley ‘r fluyt and you hear the misty music playin’, carried by the waves… you look out ‘n’ all you see is fog, but you know that out there, somewhere on the watery blue fields, the Phantom Acoustique sits in wait. If ye be a pyrate, beware. But if ye be friend, then ye knows that the waters be safe tonight.
I no’ be familiar with the new toys that t’young folk ‘r walkin’ around with nowadays, but I did manage to get some help figurin’ out how t’make a collection o’ songs that I be likin’ that ya can lis’n to. Watch the first video, especially. It reminds me o’ our good Cap’n Gavotte.