To be honest, I don’t particularly like classical music.
I suspect it is because my nature lacks the composure that classical music possesses, yet even so, there are times when I feel a certain resonance in it. That was the case for me at a neat classical record store in Brussels. Familiar classical music quietly enveloped the entire store, while another piece of classical music flowed from a rare booth-style listening room.
Of course, I do not know which specific piece it was. However, I liked the music from that era, and the drum part on the Montreux Jazz Fest Live album, which I picked from the few available jazz LPs in the section, was excellent. Since then, I have tried Bach and Mozart a few times, but while the gap between us didn’t narrow, I find myself thinking that travel itself might be a form of jazz. Belgium, which I stopped by intending to just have a quick beer and waffle before heading to Amsterdam, played the best jazz of my life and made classical music sound more stimulating than jazz for a moment. It was as if that trip was like jazz that the musician had rearranged at will.