Su Hongyue's thoughts after reading "The Beauty of Ancient Music" Frankly speaking, for subjects that I am not familiar with, such as ancient music, the book price is 128 yuan. I took "The Beauty of Ancient Music" with a very ordinary cover design. I almost bought a moldy book.
? Tonight I read through the book at a glance and I agree with Douban’s comment: excessive hype. But the author herself also said that these are just some notes she took while exploring knowledge about Chinese classical music. They were scattered and unorganized out of hobbies. The author is too modest. To study music, you may have to continue reading the author's works. By the way, read all the references listed in the book, and you will probably be able to get started.
No one doesn’t like music. It's just that the various musical instruments written about in "The Beauty of Ancient Music" have either been lost long ago or have never been seen before. There are no musical instruments or music. It is difficult to get involved just by reading the text. But I still like the erhu. It turns out to be the huqin. The predecessor of the erhu is the Xi Qin in the Tang Dynasty and the Ji Qin in the Song Dynasty. The Xi people are a people who were born with the mark of suffering.
Speaking of Huqin, I naturally think of the blind man A Bing, and the tune of "Two Springs Reflect the Moon" sounds in my mind. A Bing is the illegitimate son of a Taoist priest. He knows that he has gone through many vicissitudes in his life. He has been drunk now, and has been involved in eating, drinking, and whoring. He is unlucky. He has syphilis, virus invasion, and blindness. The rest of his life can only be... Blind man A Bing is gone.
In the last three months of his life, someone came to him to record, so that his "Er Quan Ying Yue" was handed down. Shortly after his death, the widow who lived with him also died. Well, fate is so unpredictable, you can't say whether it will be good or bad. Maybe he left at the right time, otherwise he would not be able to escape with his life if the whole people criticized him.
A few years ago, in the bustling bustle here, an old man would appear at the door of a bank every night to set up a stall. He played his erhu and spread a piece of paper on the ground, writing a few lines on it. The general meaning of the word is old, sick and disabled, looking for a way out. He wore his long, sparse hair tied up, and by his side were occasionally some collected pieces of paper. I rarely go shopping, but every time I come here, I will definitely see an old man. I will leave him a few dollars in change when I pass by. We smile to each other but never chat. This has become a tacit understanding. In my dying years, I understand that seeing each other once, less once, sooner or later We will never see each other again. One night when I came back from shopping, I happened to see an old man closing his stall. I was so excited that I wanted to help the old man get the cardboard and cross the road with him again. The old man objected fiercely at first, but later he agreed. I crossed the road with him and felt very sad. Feeling his weak body, he was panting as he walked. After crossing the street, we said goodbye and we met a few times later, but as I said before, I rarely go shopping. I forget when it started, but I no longer see old people in front of banks. I thought optimistically that maybe the old man had changed his territory, or maybe he had gone back to his hometown to rest, even though he had written: childless, old and frail. The old man and I are strangers after all, and I don't want to imagine a sad ending. I have never heard the old man play a complete song, but his simple smile has been imprinted in my heart. On the other side of the street, I once paid ten yuan to ask a violinist to play a song whose name I had forgotten. The violinist was middle-aged. Although he was a street singer, he was also very particular about his image. I remember he was wearing a Chinese tunic suit and was spotless. He played the erhu while secretly looking at my mobile phone. I was afraid of being secretly photographed. I had no interest in disturbing others. I just thought he was too arrogant. I must have been distracted again.
? Of course music is beautiful, but life is painful.