What I seek to do here perhaps cannot be done in words. Perhaps it can only be done in music. I want to try to do it in words. I want to give to the tale the architecture which only narrative can provide -the beginning, the middle and the end-the charged unfolding events in phrases faithfully reflecting their impact upon the writer. You should not need to know the composers I mention often in these pages: Beethoven, Mozart, Tchaikovsky-the wild strummings of the bluegrass fiddlers or the eerie music of Gaelic violins. My words should impart the very essence of the sound to you. If not, then there is something here which cannot be really written. But since it’s the story in me, the story I am compelled to unfold life, my tragedy, my triumph and its price I have no choice but to attempt this record. [download]
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