Gymnopedie No.1 by Erik Satie: Lockdown piano, Dominic Garnett

Here's my lockdown recording of Gymnopedie No.1 by the eccentric French composer Erik Satie. A piece most people instantly know but can't name! A shame, because he is also a fascinating character. Here was a guy who took classical music out of posh concert halls and into Paris bars, bringing a hammer with him in case drunks or hecklers went OTT.
Dismissed as a bit of a novelty in his day, he was way ahead of his time, forging the way with abstract music and the sort of open, “ambiguous” chords you can hear in this famous piece, that just float on the air. Jazz wouldn’t happen till decades later, but they would understand his language.
Some would say his music is miserable stuff. I disagree! It’s tonic for the soul. It’s ambiguous enough to be a mirror to whatever you're feeling, whether that's as peaceful as a summer lake or as troubled as Matt Hancock's eyebrows.
Also of interest are the amazing directions he adds to each piece of music. These include instructions like “open your head!” and “don't leave”. It annoys me intensely that in my edition, the editor says that these are included for completeness but were intended as a joke. No, they were not you daft twat! Satie is offering you a glimpse into his soul, from humour to despair. His music is timeless. It still feels modern now, and is also good practise for any piano player with big clumsy hands who wants to acheive a softer, more expressive touch, rather than pulverising those keys.
Thank you Erik, you splendid nutter. If we meet in the next world, you needn't bring your hammer to the bar. I will get the first round in.