{"id":71577,"date":"2013-07-18T16:04:38","date_gmt":"2013-07-18T14:04:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.lemouching.com\/old\/2013\/07\/air-in-g-string-bach\/"},"modified":"2013-07-18T16:04:38","modified_gmt":"2013-07-18T14:04:38","slug":"air-in-g-string-bach","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lemouching.com\/en\/2013\/07\/air-in-g-string-bach\/","title":{"rendered":"AIR IN G STRING, BACH"},"content":{"rendered":"

As a kid, when my sister wasn’t home, I would sneak into her bedroom, go to the record player and delicatly place the needle on the record that was already on. And, as always, after a few scratches on the old vinyl, music with a tremendous poetry would take over me, a music so beautiful it would overwhelm me instantly. The violins would slide to me in the silent of the room and would instantly make me feel like I was in a trance. I would lay on the floor and look through the window\u00a0at the tip of the trees slowly dancing in the wind following the pace of the music. The static scratches on the record would blend with the voices from the street and would begin to sound to me like notes as if part of the piece. The music always seemed to end too soon and I would long for some more and inevitably start from the beginning over and over again. I fell in love with Bach and the Air in the G string. Later, as a teenager, I discovered the Swindle Sisters version with the Modern Jazz Quartet which inspired me to practice frenching, the \u00a0famous French kiss, the one that made me spend all the weekend afternoons in my room, in the dark with the neighbor’s daughter. It was only later that I discovered the Jacques Loussier’s version, and with it’s jazz accents I would discover the fervor of hands touching skin, as soft as silk under cashmere sweaters, and also the terrible battle with the bra and the stressful challenge of \u00a0trying to open it with two fingers. I would never go to a visit a girlfriend without “THE” record. It was stonger than me, I couldn’t resist. All of Bach pieces do that to me, they drive me crazy. Totally insane. Wild with passion. As the light gets dimmer, caresses follow the rythm of the strings, ascending to the\u00a0crescendo<\/em>, then lighter in the moderato: F<\/em>ingers are tapping, bodies melt together, the sheets get wrinkled, \u00a0and then all sounds are turned into notes like in a concerto. Caressing trout’s skin, listening to Bach, it’s heaven!