Interpreting a work of music often feels like my process for reading a book.
If the book is very good and inspiring, I often have to tear through it, guiltily leaping ahead,
gulping down paragraphs, skipping sentences, all with the sure knowledge that I will read it again and possibly again. In this way, my imagination etches slowly an understanding that feels lasting even as it is soon silted over by layers of other influences. The first reading is really a sketch, the second is a visit, the third might be a collaboration.
The Braun Solos can be learned quickly despite the ingenuous (and ingenious) complexity of the technical puzzles, yet returning to them over and over reveals an unexpected possibilities. Playing them contiguously (including from the end back to the beginning) also reveals relationships and I begin to look forward with pleasure to the next one. And surprisingly, through repetition, understanding dawns and movements that initially seemed barren, lengthy and dull begin to take on new meaning. Frequent repetition leads to subtle but endless variety…aridity usually follows from genuine repetition without variation.
A novel that is read aloud will always take on the voice of the reader.