The words are liquid, athletic, and catholic: Athletic in its physical potential, catholic in its intimacy, and liquid in its sensuality. Duration? Power? Coherence? The instrument and I are forming a symbiotic relationship where we are servants to each other, one cajoling the other towards more expression. This damn instrument is trancing me out and creating a kind of aesthetic promiscuity: I don't want to stop! I'm seduced past my own emotional limitations. Which is provoking or evoking? The range of expression is phenomenal: My Schubert sings endlessly, the Liszt thunders with dignity, and the ragtime dances with no need for a bowtie. I can't tell whether the piano is caressing me or I'm caressing the piano.
The Ravenscroft/Spreeman piano does this and more. Like many, I too have sought, lusted after, and courted many a fine piano in the search for an instrument that can speak my feelings.
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