I love Madame Cauchefer-Choplin's improvisations - always melodic and fluid. Lovely.

Beautiful! Listening to this while doing filing music and prepping for the coming weekend with Festival of Pentecost worship. Made me think of how the Holy Spirit comes to us so full of life-giving warmth, with a gentle lovely melody for us to sing our life-song. Thanks for posting this!

I especialy appreciate the conclusion, in full sync with the office, both in time and spiritually. So professional!

Soft or loud, fast or slow ,she makes it all Heavenly!

Very, very beautiful!

Did this bring back memories! Fred Kalohn was the first person I ever heard ‘speaking’ his mind via music like this. It never seemed at all like the soundtrack themes for the people on tv that spoke thoughts out loud like Zorro did words for his mute sidekick, Bernardo. It filled a whole church around this toddlers’s ears with pipe organ thoughts, Fred‘s thoughts. The organist’s “walking music” during the offering every Sunday was the first time I would hear someone improvise. When I tried out to became his student over a decade later, I didn’t know the words (nor did he sometimes) for what he would try so hard to teach me; but we both could always speak music to one another. I wasn’t satisfied at all performing the adagio I tried to play for him on that same organ. Suddenly Fred appeared at the end of the choir stalls, startling me. “Ahem,” he growled, “Very good.” No, it wasn’t. No, it should have been better. “I shouldn’t make so many mistakes,” I lamented. He lumbered closer but sat down lightly enough next to me on the bench. I never noticed how stocky he was before, shaped sort of like a torpedo. Was that why he exploded so often? “You think I don’t make mistakes?” he asked pleasantly enough. Of course he did, I hoped he would every Sunday. From out of the familiar would suddenly come a dance step, a turn and twist unique to the moment and unique to Fred Kalohn all at once. It was like touching a thought as it flew past, free from all the usual flock of notes as they were intended to be. “No.” I answered glumly. “Eh!?” This time it was his turn to be startled. We both turned a bit more to look at each other. “Well, I, yes, I do make mistakes, all the time.” I was still mad at myself anyways. “But you know what to do about it.” “Well, yes, you can always find your way back from a wrong note.” “But you can make a whole, thing, out of it.” “What?” “Like, like, between things, during the service. That’s, that’s, ...you.” “Oh, you mean the ‘walking music?’ Yes, that’s all improvi--” I could almost see the light bulb go off over the man’s head. As if his hair could be any whiter, or his crew cut stand any more on end, but it did. Not in so many words, not really needing any words at all, there came an understanding. He had overheard me for the first time thinking out loud playing on the auditorium grand piano the day before, but I had been listening to him think out loud every Sunday since before I had words or even music myself to think with. Without his even realizing it I had already been his student …and would always be from that moment on.

Superbe Merci !!

Merci !

I've a CD on festivo : philippe cauchefer - sophie veronique cauchefer choplin - st. jean le baptiste ( saint jean-baptiste de la salle ) paris

Squisito!

it`s amazing

sweet sweet melodies

Lovely harmonies, with melodic development. Although again, the French improvising habit of LH 'poddling about vague notes.