Those who know me the best know that among my favorite music is that written by Bach. I confess, I’m more a Bachfan than a Biberfan, but, alas, I chose a moniker that was more unique.

I recently experienced something that would have some folks reaching for the wine bottle, the anti-depressants, or… pulling their hair out. I’ve never believed in treating stress or sorrow with chemicals.

Instead, I pull up my Bach. Specifically, this evening, his most profound work (my opinion, sure), the Kunst der Fuge. Last movement. Deeper than a gallon tub of ice cream, more rich than caramel sauce, and quite profound.

I have so many copies of this recording; tonight I found the Concerto Italiano version “sloppy.” This is music that breathes. I had the opportunity years ago to perform parts of KdF and it was a very emotional experience. Listening to music is one thing; putting breath, tears, and effort into what it heard is something all the more powerful.

That’s why I likely poured all my frustrations growing up as a teenager into the piano. It was therapy.