Kostas Papazafeiropoulos :: Sonata in C minor, op. 113 (2015) 

dedicated to Constantine P. Carambelas - Sgourdas

0:11 Allegro
7:48 Adagio
15:38 Menuet/Trio
21:08 Rondo Allegro

I knew it would come. But still I got a shock when it happened. And even more scary because this time, our old fax machine rang. That is unplugged since months and waiting for a brave moment of either Anja or I to grab it and get rid of it.

'Hello?'
'You have not made up your mind, do you?'
'Excuse me?'
'The celebration cd's.'
'O that. No, that is still work in progress.'
It was silent now for a moment. I know it was him, but I did not have the courage to ask. As if he could read my thoughts, he rapidly said:
'You know who I am, right?'
I didn't know what to answer. If I said what I thought, I would make a fool of myself if I was wrong. So I kept silent.
'You have practised my Rondo in A minor, Köchel whatever, lately. I can not say my name here, because that German dictator installed voice recognition.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Exactly what I'm saying. Voice recognition.'
'And the reason for that?'
'O simple. Mister B, let us call him that way, was not amused to know that we used this connection to make calls. With you. So the other mister B, ELVEEBEE, you know, and myself, are not allowed to talk any more this way. Can you believe that?'
'No I can't.'
I really did not know what to say other than this.
'You always fight like that?' I asked finally.
'O no, from time to time it is fun. I challenged the so-called master of the fugue with some new compositions, a seven doubled fugue with fourteen counter themes. He didn't say a word when it was performed lately, but I could read in his eyes he was impressed. No, we're really getting along one another, but with this telephone, he is obsessed.'

'I see. But, if I my ask, why are you calling then?'
'Well, as said, your selection. The three CD's you are about to publish soon.'
'What is wrong with that?'
'Nothing ! But you keep playing music of my Greek counterpart, this mister, Papa...papaz... '
'Papazafeiropoulos.'
'Yes! You wouldn't think of adding more music of him than of me, right?'
'O, master!' I replied. 'Of course not. He still has so much to learn compared to your music! If only he could have some lessons from you.'
'Yes, that would be nice.'
'Do you think that would be possible once? I could give you his telephone number?'
'Hmm. Who knows. It depends of that silly old man with his fugue obsession, you know who I'm talking about.'
'Anything I could do about that?'
'Difficult to say. But if I could be honest with you...'
'Yes?'
'You might include some of his music and that of his sons. He likes it when music of his sons is being played. And, frankly, but I shouldn't say this... it is not bad either.'
'I certainly...' but I couldn't finish my sentence. The fax suddenly started to glow, first red, than green, and heating up as well. I dropped the receiver because of the heat, and, surprisingly, it fell exactly right on its place. A few minutes, I stared at the old fax machine, but it looked the same as before. As if nothing happened. And maybe, that exactly was the case...

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