Shifting Ground
AlexiAlexi Kenney
1 Violin Sonata No. 1 in G minor, BWV 1001: I. Adagio
Johann Sebastian Bach
2 Widmung, Op. 25, No. 1
Robert Schumann, arr. Alexi Kenney
3 The Violinist
Angélica Negrón, featuring Ana Fabrega
4 Ayres for the Violin: Passaggio roto
Nicola Matteis
5 thank u, next
Ariana Grande, arr. Alexi Kenney
6 Violin Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004: I. Allemande
Johann Sebastian Bach
7 Blue
Joni Mitchell, arr. Alexi Kenney
8 Violin Partita No. 1 in B minor, BWV 1002: VII. Tempo di Borea
Johann Sebastian Bach
Shifting Ground
9 Violin Partita No. 1 in B minor, BWV 1002: VIII. Tempo di Borea (Double)
Johann Sebastian Bach
10
Well-Spent
Eve Beglarian
11 Violin Sonata No. 2 in A minor, BWV 1003: I. Grave
Johann Sebastian Bach
Alia Fantasia
12
13
Nicola Matteis Jr.
Hikari
Salina Fisher
14 Elegy (from Muir Glacier, 1889-2009)
Matthew Burtner
Violin Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004: V: Chaconne
15
Johann Sebastian Bach
The Borletti-Buitoni Trust (BBT) supports both outstanding young musicians (BBT Artists) and charitable organizations that help the underprivileged and disadvantaged through music (BBT Communities). Whether developing and sustaining young artists’ international careers, or bringing the joy of music to new communities, the Trust provides invaluable assistance and encouragement. bbtrust.com
The violin music of J.S. Bach has been a source of joy and refuge in my life for just about as long as I can remember. For me, Bach’s music is a world of endless interpretive possibilities.
Shifting Ground is an exploration of how Bach’s influence has rippled through time – a journey through dreamscapes and fiery virtuosity, ending in elegiac repose. It is a personal collection of new works in their world premiere recordings, my own arrangements, and other pieces that I simply love, all designed to follow a dramatic arc that begins and ends with Bach. This album is dedicated to the memory of my childhood teacher Jenny Rudin, whom I think of every time I play the Bach Chaconne, her favorite piece. Special thanks to the Borletti-Buitoni Trust for their generous funding of Shifting Ground .
Produced by Jesse Lewis. Recorded and mixed by Christopher Moretti; Edited by Caroline Shaffer Robin.
Mastered by Jesse Lewis and Shauna Barravecchio. Recorded at St. John’s Episcopal Church, Jamaica Plain, MA. Cover art and design by Haeg Design.
alexikenney.com
I felt dizzy. My head was spinning. (My head has never spun before, but if it did, I imagine this is what it would feel like). I felt like I’d been hit by a truck that I myself was driving. My mouth was dry. My tongue felt like it weighed a thousand pounds when I know it weighed, at most, a few ounces. I didn’t have enough energy to contract a single muscle, let alone move my body off the couch.
There was a knock on the door. Then another.
“Ms. Fabrega, they’re ready for you.”
I wasn’t ready for them.
Another knock.
“Ms. Fabrega? Are you in here?”
I watched as the door knob slowly turned and the door opened. The stagehand was mortified when she saw me.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were in here. I knocked, but since there was no reply, I thought the room was empty.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Are you ok? Do you need help?”
I moved my eyes to the water pitcher on the vanity then back at the stagehand. She didn’t get it. I looked at the water again and then back at her. Then she looked at the water.
“Do you want water?”
I slightly closed and opened my eyes as if I was nodding with my eyelids. She understood.
She filled a glass of water for me and knelt beside me. She held the cup to my lips and carefully titled the glass. Miraculously, none of the water spilled. I smacked my lips together and moved my tongue a bit. The water was helping. She gave me another sip. Then, I was able to lift my arm and prop myself up. I grabbed the glass of water and drank the rest of it.
“Thank you.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“When does the show begin?”
“As soon as you’re ready.” She looked at me.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded and got up from the couch. I straightened my tuxedo in the mirror, fixed my hair, and walked out the door.
As I walked through the backstage halls, the magnitude of the moment struck me. I was about to play as the first violinist for the New York Philharmonic, and I had never in my life played the violin. It didn’t matter that I was severely underqualified for the job. I had the job, and it was time for me to do my job.
When I walked on stage, the audience applauded. The room was packed. I bowed and made my way to my seat. I adjusted the sheet music on the stand, then raised my violin, rested it on my shoulder, and pressed my chin on it. I looked at the conductor, and she nodded at me, then lifted her baton. I raised my violin bow. When her hand came down on the one beat, I pressed the bow
down on the strings and began moving it back and forth. It sounded terrible, truly horrendous. The exact type of sound you’d expect to hear if someone who’d never played a violin before tried to play it. But no one reacted to it. You’d think they were listening to a professional violinist.
I wasn’t sure why no one seemed to care that I had no idea how to play the violin. For a moment, I considered if I should stop playing and explain to everyone that I’m not sure why I was chosen to be the first violinist or why I accepted. But when I looked up from the sheet music I was pretending to read and saw the captivated faces of the audience and orchestra, I knew I had to press onward. So, I kept playing.
The more I played, the more I believed I was playing well, and the more I believed I was playing well, the more the audience was entranced by it. Eventually, I forgot I didn’t know how to play. I was enraptured by the music. I felt like a virtuoso in her element, becoming one with her instrument. The music poured out of me with an ease I’d never experienced before. I disappeared during those 45 minutes of Brahms’s violin concerto in D major. There was no longer a singular “I” or “me.” I was the violin. I was the music.
When the song ended, the audience clapped enthusiastically. The conductor signaled for me to stand up. I did. I raised my violin high in the air, and the audience got on their feet as they continued to applaud.
Lyrics for Track 3: The Violinist Short story by Ana Fabrega