musicians of old

Chapter 876 Nighttime Ramblings (Part 1): The Feast
The atmosphere in the auditorium was very lively.

Fan Ning ran in the direction where Teacher Anton had appeared, surrounded by waves of silent cheers, and the silhouettes of the faded crowd surged like a tide.

Some people were pushing from behind, some were pulling from the side, and others were clearing the way and leading the way.

He was swept up in the surging flow of congratulatory people in silk.

Black and white ribbons, gift tubes, fresh flowers, and gold and silver foil fluttered in the air.

Fan Ning kept turning her head to look at that corner of the audience, but she was soon pushed to the celebration banquet by the enthusiastic invitation and in a daze.

"Fan Ning, Professor Gu's health is not very good. He may not be able to retire in time. He will apply for medical retirement in another year or two."

The voice of a middle-aged man came through the noisy background.

Ultimately, the only influence I can have is on one university and a small group of people for a few years.

This is Fanning's self-deprecating smile.

"I wanted to buy sweet-scented osmanthus and drink it with me, but it turned out to be different. I was a young man traveling."

Rivers of honey and fire flow through the air, and the dome is an inverted version of the Crystal Sea of ​​Venice, with lights refracting down and turning champagne bubbles into neon lights.

What a grand celebration!

In some withered histories, banquets are among the few memorable events, but in brighter times, they are imbued with unparalleled richness. Fanning experienced many banquets: graduation concerts, celebrations at student arts festivals, New Year's concerts, or even the spiritually charged nights of "Tristan und Isolde."

"Dark purple silk, gilded wall lamps, sapphire brooches, freshly squeezed orange juice, elderflower syrup—summer drinks for winter."

Fan Ning raised the empty glass in his hand, muttering some words to himself, seemingly lost in thought.

"The fragrance of the brightest summer day?" "The fragrance of the brightest summer day."

He was asking and answering his own question.

Before the dishes were even served, the guests were already laughing and talking, and the candles on the table were burning statically, making the cups and saucers look crystal clear.

The background scenery changes rapidly, showing people sitting together in the hall and then quietly leaving.

And for some reason, no one ever sat down at Fanning's table.

"The new wine is sorrowful, the vines are withered, and all who are joyful in their hearts sigh."

"He who drinks strong wine will find it bitter."

The waiter pushed in a trolley covered with ribbons, but when the ribbons were lifted, it revealed the menu and portion size for a single person.

The place wasn't spacious at all—a small, well-decorated, dimly lit Western-style bar with rotating colored lights, and R. Strauss's "The Last Four Songs" playing from the stereo.

"I ordered you a 'Starry Sky' drink." The girl's Instagram account on the phone left a message saying, "The best little bar next to the Vienna Conservatory of Music. The owner always boasts that he has a first edition of 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra,' but actually there is a cookbook on the third row of the bar that is more precious. It says how to brew the starry sky into red wine."

The prepared Sangiovese has a sunset-like color, with bubbles rising to the surface and the sugar and salt frosting on the rim of the glass shimmering like the Milky Way.

"The lady insisted on having a cocktail with this visual effect, saying that the 'starry sky' she would taste like a snow-capped mountain when she drank it."

The head chef rolled up his sleeves and added, then tore off a message sheet with a "rip".

"If you think it's good, please write a comment or some words of encouragement, my friend!"

Fan Ning pulled the spring pen from the table to his side, thought for a moment, and began to write.

Question 3: Dictation of four-part harmony.

Question 5: Dictation of Two-Part Melodies

In the orchestra's rehearsal area, many young men and women sat nervously watching Fan Ning's writing movements. Fan Ning looked at the lines of handwriting on the sight-singing and ear training test paper and gave his score next to each question.

The pen nib scratched against the paper with a soft, rustling sound. "Have you finished tallying the scores?" Fan Ning handed over the last graded exam paper.

"It's here! It's here! We've been waiting for this one." Caplan immediately took it, adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat. "Class, don't be nervous, I'll announce them one by one—"

"Stop, let's not scare people." Fan Ning's raised hand gesture hit everyone right in the throat. "The results will be posted after class. Only the students with the highest scores will be announced here."

“Okay, okay.” Caplan smiled ingratiatingly and picked up a test paper with extremely smooth and elegant handwriting.

The score above is 19.5 points.

“Roy, why don’t you share your experience?” Fanning pointed to the piece he had brought to the blackboard, “and demonstrate to the students the four-part harmony analysis process of this cantata.”

The stage and audience in the rehearsal hall have been transformed into the stage and audience in the lecture hall.

The girl in the bright yellow coat stood up and walked onto the podium.

「Wie schoen leuchtet der Morgenstern」

The first in Bach's religious cantata, and also the first in the complete list of works.

BWV1, how beautiful the morning star shines.

“I think I’ve actually seen the stars.” At one point, while demonstrating with chalk on the blackboard, she turned and smiled at Fan Ning.

"Why?" Fan Ning asked, stunned, as he stood by the podium.

"You're an interesting yet incomprehensible person; sometimes it's like looking at a distant star."

"The stars look very bright. Whether it's the morning star or the evening star, that brightness may have been transmitted from tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or even hundreds of millions of years ago. Perhaps the celestial body that shone on them no longer exists at all, but to me, it still has a sense of reality; it is real."

Fanning picked up the "Starry Sky" beside him and examined the last bit of liquid.

He looked up and drank the sunset, the withered grass, and the snow-capped mountain skyline in his glass. Those colors, like red wine, filled the sky, and in the distance, a bright band of stars drifted down from the blurry mountain outlines.

Until it becomes the remaining frosting on the glass.

The harpsichord produced a clear and bright basso continuo.

The musical examples of harmonic analysis were presented, with joyful infinite motifs rising and falling, carrying a deep spiritual peace and joy. Against this backdrop, a hymn in F major was sung by the choir.

A solemn yet joyful atmosphere enveloped all worldly troubles.

There are many mahogany benches, where many listeners find solace.

Qiming Church?

Very similar, but not.

That place, along with the "old days," was destroyed and, along with the vast and boundless migrating matter, fell into the colorful and decaying moonlit night.

The children's choir's clear voices soared and swirled under the dome, blending into perfect harmony, like light and stars.

Fanning's gaze swept thoughtfully over the Gothic altar, over the stained-glass window depicting Martin Luther, and finally landed on the bronze floor surrounded by flowers in front of the main altar.

"Leipzig Cathedral, where Bach dedicated the last twenty-seven years of his life, and where he finally rests. The city isn't far from my home, and the transportation is quite convenient. I've been there many times. There are always flowers there, as if the music never stopped in 1750. Remember to bring me a bouquet too."

After placing the two bouquets of flowers in front of the bronze floor, Fan Ning repeatedly checked the messages on her phone.

I strolled along the side corridor and looked at some old musical instruments on display, which belonged to the Thomas Choir.

The air was filled with a warm, frankincense scent, but the stone was too white and felt cold to the touch.

"In this era, what will an ordinary person from the lower class who has a deep love for art but accomplishes nothing ultimately get?" Suddenly, a young voice asked him from beside him.