Nine poems by Danske Bedinger Dandridge (1854-1914), two by her cousin, Daniel Bedinger Lucas (1836-1909) Music by Terry Tucker
Playing with Terry on piano are Ralph Gordon, cello and bass, Ardyth Gilbertson, harmony vocals and lead on "Dreams", Betty Jo Rockwell, flute on "The Fairy Camp" and "Dreams", Sharon Hall, violin on "Dreams", Kelly Cornelius, djembe on "The Fairy Camp", Greg Small, trumpet, Brian Ellsworth, French horn and Cam Millar, trombone on "Wings".
Terry's voice has depth, fragility, strength; listening is an intimate experience. Jennie Avila
Terry Tucker has done more than just shine a new light on Danske Dandridge´s poems; it seems more as if the words have patiently waited a century or so for this artistic completion--for the musical equivalent of a spring rain that brings forth astonishing new life.
It´s always intriguing to find that words of sufficient beauty can stretch all the way from some other period of history to right now. Maybe--as with a fine piano string--the longer the distance the more deeply it resonates.
Words and notes fall like leaves in some of these songs,the sound flows like trickling water--gathering in pools here and there, rushing on, wandering into secret ways, flowing freely again. You can only be swept along by enchanting invitations to worlds within and worlds without-surreal, familiar, intimate, transcendent. The various tracks are too diverse to easily encapsulate, but for me perhaps "The Stream and I" comes as close as any to exemplify the spirit and gist of the whole. Whether a stream of water, stream of life, or indeed the stream of music itself--there is always the feeling of being tentatively in touch with the rush of life and nature, of unexpected moments of fragile tranquility and reflection, of thrilling momentary acquaintance with something untouchable. The words themselves have stood on their own; intensely personal or remotely abstract, self-absorbed and introspective yet bursting with life--they are as evocative of a stream´s flash and sparkle and spray as with its quiet depths. Angus White