Tributes

David was music itself and being with him was an ongoing collaboration.

Ketil Bjørnstad, MEMORIES OF DAVID

Memories of David Darling is much more than just memories. He is still so alive in my mind. I speak to him, as if he still sits in my room. I write some music and think: Could this be something for you, David?

It was ECMs Manfred Eicher who put us together in 1994, when we recorded the first The Sea quartet-album in Rainbow Studio in Oslo. It was September. Indian Summer. Terje Rypdal came from his beloved Tresfjord on the North-West-coast of Norway, and Jon was picked up from his flat in the western part og the city. I communicated with David about the scores on fax via Bonnie in Connecticut, but I can’t remember that we really met before in studio that day. We waited for Manfred to come up from München, but the plane was delayed, and we started recording by our own, with Jan Erik Kongshaug in the control-room. We recorded the The Sea no 5 first, and it was one of those days when you knew that everything would be easy, without struggle. No re-takes, no fuzz, just excitement, listening to the sound of the The Sea Quartet for the very first time.

It was when we believed we had finished the piece that should be titled The Sea no 2, we suddenly heard Manfred’s voice in the earphones: “Continue, David!” He was there, among us, but sitting in the control-room. He wanted the piece to grow even more, and David took the full responsibility, with his unique ability to improvise in a classical tradition, more Bartok than Monk. And he opened the piece for all of us, supported by Jon’s cymbals, and invited me to do the opening arpeggio again. Then Terje made one of his highlight-solos, and we finished one of the most important takes in my life.

Music makes friendship. And David and I had so much in common, with our affection for classical music, and also our way to improvise, so different from the more strict jazz-scales. Manfred suggested that we should record a duo-album, and The River was released in 1996. That Jean-Luc Godard wanted to use music from both albums was a great inspiration, and both the The Sea-quartet and the duo with David was invited to festivals and concerts all over the world. David’s and mine first Taiwan-tour in 1996 was a highlight, and it was specially touching to see how David’s meeting with the aborigines, both then and in 2000, resulted in some fantastic music.

It was both touching and unforgettable to visit David at home in Connecticut two times, working with him in studio and also meet with his family. We always talked, between the melodies, about politics, music, influences, inspirations. And we were close enough also to open up for the more vulnerable sides of life.

David has passed away. But I keep him close – for the rest of my life.

Ketil Bjørnstad

Oslo, March 31, 2021

Susan Osborn Densmore

It is difficult to believe that David is not longer here. His slow, erratic fade was very difficult ultimately sad, and frustrating for you to witness, I am sure. Even at this distance, It was for me. And yet, he, with much assistance and love was able to leave us such an amazing legacy of love and music.

David was such a huge influence on my life. We met when I was just 24 or so in Vermillion South Dakota. I was part of a musical trio called Garden and we explored vocal improv, a wild diversion at that time from what most of our musician friends were doing. He was there on tour with the Consort and Marilyn, Colleen and I attended both the brilliant concert and workshop. The band at that time was Robert Chappel, Ben Carriel, Tiger Benford, Paul Winter and David Darling. What a sound! My mind was blown. It was like David was the heart surgeon who made the cut and then the rest of the group went in and did the work. Mastery. The next day we attended the workshop largely facilitated by David and he modeled for me how teaching should be done, with passion and authenticity. All my work as a teacher for the next 40 years was informed by his example. Paul was somehow taken with South Dakota and returned a few times to visit us. We became friends and later when beginning to dream the Common Ground project, he invited me to participate. The song that Garden wrote and sang for him that first visit, Lay Down Your Burden, ended up on the recording with a gorgeous arrangement by David and Oscar Castro-Neves. I officially joined the Consort to tour the Common Ground album. Soon I came to know David’s beautiful family, his wife Ann and daughters Jessica and Bonnie. They made me feel a part of the Litchfield community and they even hosted the groom’s dinner the night before my wedding to David Densmore. At one point, David asked me to form a band with him and Ben Carriel for a contest in NYC. A strange combo...Ben on timpani, David vocals and cello, and me vocals and violin. We didn’t win, but the sound was beautiful. The sound was always beautiful. I had a few chances to collaborate with David D after my David and I moved West. The last one being his exquisite playing on my last recording HUMMINGBIRD. Any encounter I had with David was always laced with humor and laughter. We shared some deep yucks. We have lost a great human soul, but he has left us with a rich and timeless legacy of music and memories.

Susan

March, 2021

Therese Schroeder-Sheker

In many ways, a family is such a wondrous and complicated fabric that a sensitive person can be sorting out and reflecting upon its meaning and various stages of generative and nurturing relationships right up until the last breath of our lives.  I was thinking recently about how many of the most beautiful, loving, courageous, selfless or authentic moments in life are ultimately the ones that go unseen and unsung.    They are invisible.  That’s part of the mystery of it too --- if folks kept a ledger of good deeds, it would be hell; there would be no radiance at all.   It seems to me that by doing or being inside the great good somehow invisibly,  a wonderful jewel is set free.  Gems like that seem to ripple and bear fruit, even if buried under ground or flung high into the sky.  

It’s in the context of the radiance of truly free deeds that are invisible that I’ve been remembering a special moment about David.  It comes up vividly, as if it happened last week.  It’s audible, tactile, suffused with warmth.  I can hear his voice still, and turn around and see him as if the moment is still unfolding, as if it’s more eternal than ephemeral.  

When Paul Winter and Chez Liley got married in 1991, there were hundreds of guests and well-wishers attending the wedding ceremony.  Since Paul had essentially been touring and collaborating with great artists and writers for thirty years already, he  (and the Consort) had beloved friends and colleagues literally everywhere, all over the world. This means that about five or six hundred people attended the wedding.   

There were stars and super-stars and unknowns all together, and I was standing next to David, who had been one of the original members of the Consort.  David’s dual capacities as cellist and singer were legendary, and he too was much beloved by many of those present.  He was so off-the charts inside joy and love for Paul, for Paul’s happiness, he stuck me not like a regular family member or friend, but more like an orb, a sphere, lit up, a foot or so off the ground.  His face was radiant, he kept on speaking from his soul, speaking about his love for his brother Paul.  

Well, a reader might think, aw come on, that’s normal.  Brothers everywhere celebrate.  Or maybe, aw, come one, that’s the wine, or maybe the sunlight.  

No, there was a warmth coming from David’s heart and soul that to this day strikes me as some sort of alchemical fusion of joy and love.  Can something that genuine liberate tsunamis of grace?    How many weddings have we attended during the last thirty years?  I’ve seen and heard many biological brothers and extended family brothers giving toasts over the decades.  Those toasts were loving or witty or charming or all, and these are all part of a healthy community.  But I have never again experienced anything quite like the joy David embodied at the wedding in Litchfield.  And yes, there will always be a few guests who come to celebrity events hoping to see or be seen, have an opportune moment with a producer or a star, and I suppose a few guests might have been jockeying for place amongst the inner circle.  

David was unique.  He stood off to the side that hour, invisible, yet was like a wall of truly brotherly love and joy.  Kids stories from many cultures paint imaginative pictures, depicting fairy-godmothers or dakinis or spirit beings in one form or another attending the birth of a protagonist.   They show up to give the new life the good gifts that will be needed to meet life well, and to make the heroic journey.     My memory today is more like David being utterly invisible for an hour or so, like a burning flame, giving a transmission of joy for his brother Paul, one that would have filled anyone’s billowed sail for years to come.   We remember and love David for his artistic genius, but I also remember him choosing to be invisible in a large crowd, offering transmission as only a great soul can.  

Therese

March, 2021

Roberto Weinstein

David Darling. There are no good and simple words to describe the love and respect I have for our dear friend David.Darling. He was a great cellist… but that’s not all of it. He was a brilliant teacher and mentor but that does not capture his beautiful and contemplative spirit In total. His music is simple, complex, compelling and profoundly touching but that is only the beginning. He lived beyond categorization and showed many of us a road. That being the one and true road we each could follow. He celebrated the artistic uniqueness in all of us and cheered that at every opportunity. To be with David in his home studio was to be at a great crossroad directly in front of ourselves. Those moments transcended thoughts of ego, style, genre , and simultaneously asked us to have the courage and belief to go deeper, to access more of ourselves and our truest nature. They were blissful and transcendent moments I will cherish for all time. He created these opportunities consistently and with great enthusiasm whether it was for his own projects or any other . In a world that at times forgets the strength and courage this asks David stands as a guide that invites us in and encourages us to continue. It’s where he lived and showed us we could too. While we will miss him we can be sure that this road exists and he has given us wise direction to follow ourselves, trust our instincts and try to inspire others to do the same. Love and gratitude to you dear brother Davido! Keeping you with me in all life’s adventures.

Roberto Weinstein

Brazil, May, 2021

Nancy Rumbel

The first time I saw David perform was at a Paul Winter Consort concert probably in Evanston, Ill at the Amazing Grace venue in the 70s and again in Orlando, FL. Every time he played, audiences were mesmerized by his profound musicianship and ability to improvise on the cello. He was always a showstopper, not in an egotistical way, but through his other worldly gift of bringing unique incredible music to us all.

Naturally, I was beyond delighted and honored to get to know him and first perform with him in the Consort in the late 70’s/early 80’s. At the very first quick rehearsal before my first concert with them, David was the perfect person to help initiate a new band member. He was supportive, experienced with last minute rehearsals, encouraging, humorous and kind. He had seen this happen with others before, and was laughing about the craziness of it all, while trying to help make sure I knew the important cues. We all lived. It was the beginning of a career for me and a friendship with David that I will always cherish.

I had the awesome opportunity to hear him perform night after night on the road. The long, improvised cello solo in “Ballad in 7/8”, was a major showcase piece for his playing with the Consort for years. It was always a fresh improvisation each time, often with wild passages contrasted with soft pizzicatos or his voice doubling off his cello lines. You never knew what was going to happen, but you always knew it was going to be spectacular!

There were so many valuable lessons learned watching him teach techniques and ideas about improvising at the Consort workshops. He was a natural at helping complete strangers of all abilities make music together . He could hold the attention of the entire room and help them learn how to relax, find their own voice, have fun and experience the depth and power of music all at once. It was one of his magical gifts that he thankfully gave to so many. He was as much of a master teacher as he was a performer! At the same time, he could be one of the humblest musicians that you will ever meet. He was always striving to do better and deeply embarrassed when praise was showered upon him.

I had the fortune to travel to many incredible places together to work – from the depths of the Grand Canyon, where we played and recorded music during the day with Paul Winter and then created the Mud Bubble Band that would play music into the wee hours, to the Baja Peninsula with the calving grey whales playing music with friends, to the mountains in North Carolina outside of Mars Hill tromping around on a hike. We recorded an improvised album with Michael Jones called After the Rain and performed at the Montreal Piano Festival. I will never forget the night while driving across the Joshua Tree National Park in route from Phoenix to LA (along with Jim Scott & Susan Osborn) when we came upon a car accident in pitch dark and helped. These are the types of experiences that bond band members for life!

His solo cello compositions are powerful expressions of journeys into his deeply personal world – meditative, ethereal, yearning, tormented at times and sometimes offering a lighter playful side. I treasure the time when he was first working on his lovely piece “Clouds” and had assembled a few of us to play it.

He was a prolific session player and I continue to delight when I find a project that he is playing on. His longtime collaboration with Mickey Houlihan has gifted us all with a beautiful catalogue of solo pieces, as well as works with others such as Barry Lopez and Terry Tempest Williams.

I was blessed to play a duet with him, though 3,000 miles apart, on my solo album which is one of my favorite tracks “Delicate Balance”. David knew how to be an incredibly supportive accompanist as well as a shining soloist, a rare quality to find.

The last time I saw David in person, was at the Grammys when he and Mickey won for their release Prayer for Compassion, I couldn’t have been happier for them. Recognition among your peers is a sweet thing. Thank you, David, for bringing so, so much to this world, for helping us listen and express our emotions through music or whatever we are passionate about. I hope you are at peace and continuing to make amazing music wherever you are and laughing as well.

Nancy Rumbel

June 1, 2021

Al Evers

I had the privilege and honor of working with David in many capacities for more than 35 years. During that time I was continually amazed at his ability to touch people’s hearts and minds with his music, to take on collaborative challenges and to share so much of himself.

Al Evers

June 17, 2021

Julie Weber

Within the first hour of having been in David's presence, I knew that I had "arrived home". It was during a transitional, searching time in my life - searching for reconnecting with my musical expression in the way I had when my younger self was exploring the great big world. My creativity over the years had been gradually reassigned, dedicated and dispersed by the demands of life. Although not wasted and still finding pleasure and fulfillment as teacher and caring for family, my persona of avant-garde composer and multi-media performance artist was diluted first to weekends, then seasons, years and finally, into memories.

That first 5-day workshop at Omega with David, lit the latent spark and reminded me how much I loved to create music. It reminded me how much I loved to play my piano, which over the years had become a tool rather a means of expression. I felt that I had a place where I could belong because everybody belonged no matter what their style or background.

David had a very special gift for eliciting the expressive spirit that was hiding within and had become fearful of being witnessed. He was able to see and truly appreciate the individual value in people, help them find it within themselves and finally be able to share it with others. Witnessing this happening during his sessions was nothing less than inspirational.

He told us that it was our "birthright" to be musically expressive and that this expression is available to everyone - that you can begin right now, no matter what your training or experience or lack of it - that you are good enough right now. You can begin right now with what you have. If what you have in this moment is one sound, that is enough.

The turning point for me at that workshop was when David said that there comes a time when you have to say to yourself, "I need this, I want this, I have to have it". I joined Music for People on the spot, enrolled in the 4-year Musicianship and Leadership Program (MLP) and subsequently, for the next 10 years, became administrator and teacher with the MLP and production manager, planning and coordinating the workshops.

Working in depth with the inner workings of Music for People led me to spend time with David where we shared our thoughts about music and life experiences. David and I discovered that we had a beautiful ease in conversing with each other and an affinity and mutuality in how we experienced music. This is evident in the multiple CD recording of "The Darling Conversations" where we converse in the style of a fireside chat about musical expression and Music for People practices.

It didn't take long for David to see into the avant-garde composer persona that I had tucked away for so many years. He expressed appreciation for my music and encouraged me to be that person. I felt that he heard what I heard. He gave me the feedback that allowed me be unguarded in my artistic expression. I will always be grateful to David for helping me find myself again. I am, of course, not the only one who was given this treasured gift. There are countless people who have been touched by his particular magic, been inspired to be seen and heard, inspired by his impish smile and humor, inspired by his soulful music, and grateful for such a magnanimous spirit to be present in their lives.

Julie Weber

June 17, 2021

Paul Winter

Perhaps the greatest tribute to David we can make, will be to keep his music alive in the world.

I began writing notes on the pieces, to accompany the playlist, as we have always done with our albums, to share information that might be of interest to listeners. The more I wrote, however, the more the memories of the whole journey David and I shared during those years began to weave themselves together. And reliving this story then became a way of reconnecting with David. But the only way to tell “the story” is to tell the stories. And since all these adventures took place between 40 and 50 years ago, it has taken me a bit of time to reconstruct them. Each time I returned to the music, however, the memories kept arising.

Starting at the very beginning, with this amazing story of how we met David in 1969 in Terre Haute, Indiana, I kept going from there, following the memory trail. The momentum of this narrative propelled me for many days. I offer this tribute to my departed brother.

In the summer of 1969, our fledgling Consort, then barely a year old, traveled from New York to Terre Haute, Indiana, for a concert at Indiana State University. The players included Richard Bock on cello; Paul McCandless, English horn; Gene Bertoncini, guitar; Virgil Scott, alto flute; John Beal, bass; Steve Booker, percussion; and myself on alto sax. We were rehearsing in the concert hall that afternoon, and I recall we were playing for the first time a new arrangement I had done of the “Concierto de Aranjuez,” which had been the basis for the classic Miles Davis/Gil Evans album Sketches of Spain . At some point I noticed a young guy, sitting on the side of the stage, just listening; and he was there throughout the rest of the rehearsal. Then that night, after the concert, I saw him again, backstage. I think he must have overheard us talking about some restaurant we were going to, and as we were leaving he came to me and asked: “Is it ok if I tag along with you?” And I said, “Sure.” At the restaurant, the Consort players all sat around one table, and this fellow came in and sat down at a nearby table, by himself, and never said a word. He seemed to be interested in listening to our conversations. And we were all full of ourselves, talking about New York music business stuff and whatever (all the players except myself lived in the City). I remember feeling a little guilty that we weren’t being more welcoming to him and that I hadn’t even introduced myself. As we got up to go, he finally spoke up and asked me: “How would somebody audition for your group?” I didn’t know what to say, so I asked: “What do you play?” “Cello,” he said. And I thought: cello? Really? This clean-cut WASP kid from Indiana plays cello? I had believed, from my limited experience, that you had to be Jewish and from New York to really play the cello. This guy looked more like a tennis player, to me. (That turned out to be the part I did get right, for he happened to be the champion of his college tennis team.)

I wanted to be polite, so I said: “I don’t know, but if you give me your name and address, I’ll get in touch if anything ever comes up.” So I handed him my pocket notebook, and he wrote it down. I don’t think I ever even looked to see what his name was. Fast forward several months, to early January, 1970. We were booked for a ten-week tour of 49 concerts that was set to begin January 15 th , and Richard Bock, our masterful 19-year old cellist, had left the Consort in October to join the Buffalo Symphony. I had been beating the bushes for weeks, to find a cellist willing to go with us on this tour, and I was getting desperate. We were contracted to have six players in the band for all these gigs, and many of these presenters already had our first album, in which cello was featured prominently, so I couldn’t just substitute some other instrument. I had finally come to the realization that I just needed someone who owned a cello, regardless of whether they could play or not. And I thought about this guy from Indiana.

But how to find him? I didn’t know his name, but I remembered he had written it down. However, finding that note would be like looking for a needle in a haystack -- I make lots of notes, in little spiral pocket notebooks I’ve carried since the seventh grade. They produce a lot of clutter, in piles all over, as I never have time to organize and keep ahead of them. But, they have, over the years, served me well. And they did now, once again. Luckily it had only been 6 months, and not six years, since Terre Haute, and after a couple days of digging, I found the note: “David Darling, Indiana State U, Terre Haute” – with a phone number. I called the number, but of course it was disconnected. So I called the music department at Indiana State, and asked the receptionist if she knew of a cellist named David Darling, whom I figured was somehow associated with their department. She said “No,” but I urged her to inquire of other people in the office, and I heard her put the phone down and call out: “Has anybody ever heard of a David Darling?” and a woman’s voice responded: “Yes, he moved to Kentucky, and he’s teaching at the university there.” In five minutes, I had his number, from the University of Western Kentucky music department. I called him and asked what he was doing, and he said: “Well, I’m teaching at the University, playing in the Nashville Symphony, doing recording sessions in Nashville, and I have some private students.” My heart sank, and I said: “Oh, well then you wouldn’t be interested in why I called.” David said: “What’s that?” and I explained about the upcoming ten-week tour, and that it started in a week. And David said: “I’ll go!” I was stunned, so I said: “You’re kidding!” (I was thinking – I already know he can’t play, but he must also be crazy, or a pathological liar. How could he be involved in all these things and just pick up and leave on a ten-week tour with us?) But I didn’t challenge him. I was desperate. So I got his address, and I sent him fast-pony all our music, with our first Consort album, along with a plane ticket to Deland, Florida, where we were to have our first concert at Stetson University.

The First Gig

We all converged in Florida the day before the concert, so we could rehearse this totally new band, which now had Ralph Towner, on guitar; Glen Moore, on bass, and percussionist Collin Walcott, along with holdovers Paul McCandless, and myself. David arrived, with his cello. We came together that night, in this beautiful little concert hall, for a rehearsal I’ll never forget. Playing for the first time, among these hot-shot players from New York City, David, this ingenuous and humble young “tennis player” from Indiana, totally blew us away. He played all the written parts beautifully, and when it came to the open-ended free-form cello solo from Bartok’s “Ballad in 7/8,” which Richard Bock had improvised so brilliantly on the first album, David’s improvisations were off the charts. And he used his voice, along with the cello, something we’d never heard before. We were just knocked out. The rehearsal went on into the wee hours, ending with a hilarious, extended Victor Borge-like performance by Ralph Towner on the concert grand piano that had all of us rolling on the floor in hysterics. It was an amazing night of bonding, through music and humor. A band was born.

Paul Winter

June 28, 2021

Mickey Houlihan

The David that I have known is all those things that you hear in the depth and beauty of his music. He was also fierce, stubborn and in sports, very competitive. We met during the “Common Gound” tour of the Paul Winter Consort but it was not until a river trip through the Grand Canyon in 1980 that we spent much time together. While our relationship was professional, we still did not know each other well when we reached an agreement for his musical participation on the spoken word record, River Notes, with the author Barry Lopez.

I had assumed that we would record Barry, edit the good takes together and then have David add his music. We gathered together in my small home studio during the spring of 1981 and as I was setting up the microphone for Barry, David said in no uncertain terms, “We are not doing it that way. Turn my mic on. We are going to record together.” What David brought to that session was his full presence, giving Barry both the emotional cover and inspiration to bring his own vulnerability and courage to the recording. That was 40 years ago and I am still in awe of that collaboration.

One of the most quoted lines from the book is: “To stick your hands into the river is to feel the cords that bind the earth together in one piece.”

There was something in that sentiment that resonated so deeply with David. As if it was an affirmation of the mystical powers inherent in water, the ability to heal and make whole. We began our next project by just listening to the many sounds of water on its journey of rain and snow to the oceans of the world. The music he improvised to those sounds was released on several different albums but the quest was always the same: Can we bring that wordless knowing into an ongoing awareness? Can we embrace an ancient wisdom in times of crisis?

David had such yearning for that wholeness and sometimes the obstacles seemed immeasurable. He could musically improvise with any inspiration, be it in this world or another. He could also be incredibly stubborn or as he might have imagined it, principled. I once rented a video studio and hired a crew to film him against a green screen. The idea was to create some footage of him playing for an upcoming album release. Once we were set up and I asked him to play the lead line of the piece he said that he had already played it for the recording. That was it, he had already played it and had no interest in playing it again. He would rather create a new piece. I was able to get him to play some of the rhythmic parts of the piece as we continued to modify our unspoken agreement.

I also mentioned the competitiveness earlier and there was that as well. It was often our release when the stress of facing the void became its own distraction. We once participated in a weeklong workshop with Joseph Campbell and Chungliang Al Huang. Joseph had been an Olympic level runner in his youth and spoke to the importance of having a worthy competitor to bring forth one's full potential. At the dinner break, David found a basketball and was channeling his Indiana heritage. Though I was more than a foot taller than him, he pushed me all over the court. During another session, in a game of tennis, I chased the ball so much I began to wonder if my lungs were turning inside out. In so many waysit was similar to our time in the studio as I tried to keep up with his creativity.

The projects we did together were not speedy, sometimes taking more that a decade to complete and we definitely wandered. He was, however, steadfast in his desire to “bind the earth together in one piece”.

I live in the ongoing gratitude of having shared in some of his journey,

Mickey Houlihan

July 14, 2021

Richard Brooks

I first met David back in the summer of 1973. I’d been asked to play violin in a music program that Paul Winter was directing for the dedication of land that the photographer Edward Steichen had willed to the National Audubon Society in Redding, Connecticut. I was thrilled to discover that he was on the gig as I’d been an admirer of his playing from the Paul Winter Consort’s “Road” and “Icarus” albums. He blew us all away with an improvised cello and voice solo on the Charles Ives song “The Pond” after Redding resident Mary Travers had sung the tune. We chatted at the rehearsal and the performance and he gave me his phone number in Bethel. I called soon after and asked about improvisation lessons and he kindly consented to meet with me. 

We met and explored some of the effects he utilized on his cello, then jammed on the blues with David pausing every once in a while to point out something or make a suggestion. In just a couple of hours, I learned enough from David to propel me enthusiastically into a major career shift from classical music to the creative genre-bending music David was performing with Paul Winter.

A while later I visited David at his home in Litchfield and he told me about recording with Glen Moore and meeting the Polish jazz violinist Zbigniew Seifert. “Some day I want to slow down the recording and figure out what he’s doing,” he said of Seifert’s unique melodic soloing. He took me to another part of town where Paul Winter had recently purchased a large parcel of land with a barn on it that was to be the new home of Paul’s record label “Living Music” and gave me a tour.

A short time later I contacted David about appearing with my band “Solstice” in a performance in Danbury. He was working on Paul Winter’s “Common Ground” album but said he could get away to do a rehearsal and the concert. We met with him in Brookfield at the local library for rehearsal one evening. He arrived late from a session with Paul Winter. We had a great two and a half hour rehearsal, teaching David some of our tunes and him teaching us several of his. He told us of an amazing oboe solo that he’d heard Paul McCandless record with an eagle call for “Common Ground.” His energy and personality made the time fly by and the music-making was sublime.

Our performance went great, with David bowing and strumming his cello, singing while he plucked out chords, and wailing on his 8-string electric cello with fuzz distortion and wah-wah pedal. When it came time for the encore, David introduced the Winter Consort signature tune “Icarus” by Ralph Towner this way: “I feel like I’ve been playing this song all of my life.” 

Sometime later David phoned me and asked me to do a recording gig with him. I was naturally elated. He drove us up to North Brookfield, Massachusetts to a studio called Longview Farm. The plan was to lay down string tracks for an album by the band “Head East.” Roger Boyd was the lead guy for the band and oversaw everything while Gil Markle engineered. The studio was in a renovated farmhouse and there was a cook on 24-hour call for the musicians. There were also bedrooms, and after a long session, interrupted only for a meal, we wound up spending the night in order to finish the project the following day. David’s room was next to mine, and as he closed the door between them he smiled and said with an impishly evil look in his eye, “if you need anything I’ll be right here!”

I learned a great deal on that recording date. Roger had written nothing for us, so David quickly wrote down the chord progression and had us start by blocking in the chord tones to the pre-recorded song track. We overdubbed chord partials in octaves until a chamber string ensemble sound was achieved. Then we improvised some simple moving lines and finally David improvised several cello solos for the open verse. I remember he instructed me to overdub very high octaves to give us what he called “the Nashville string sound,” which he’d learned working as a studio cellist there.

On the ride home I enjoyed just chatting with David. He’d recently recorded “Old Friends, New Friends” with Ralph Towner and shared a couple stories about that experience, including Ralph and Manfred Eicher telling him after his first “run-through” of an improvised cello solo, “that’s great,” and Manfred “lifting out one wrong note” to perfect his initial musical expression. 

David started a youth orchestra in the northwest hills of Connecticut and for their first concert I sat in on violin to help bolster the string section. His personality and incredible energy were so inspiring as I observed him coaxing and cajoling music out of the kids with humor, exuberance and kindness. When I was later asked to take over the Danbury Little Symphony as only its third conductor, I enthusiastically accepted, anxious to incorporate what I’d learned from watching David.

Another time I went to a junior high school in Greenwich as part of a music education class I was in at Western Connecticut State University. I was allowed to student teach a class and I basically recreated a workshop I’d been invited to at Marist College in Poughkeepsie that David did with Paul Winter. The kids had a blast and the school’s Principal, who observed the class, wrote a lovely letter of recommendation for me praising my work. But it was mostly David who deserved the credit.

Years went by. David left the Winter Consort, started his own recording career with ECM, performed solo concerts, and founded his music organization “Music for People” that promoted music as a means of self-expression, “for the musician and non-musician alike.” I was busy conducting up to three volunteer orchestras and teaching and doing gigs. But after a time, I reached out to David and, after a phone call, he invited me up to his home in Goshen. 

We talked and exchanged stories, then David asked if I’d brought my violin. Certainly I did! We went downstairs to his home studio and jammed for a little while until David, looking fatigued and shaking his head, said, “I can’t play any more.” We then listened to some new tracks he’d recorded and I shared a CD I’d recently put together of my recordings. When I left, he handed me a CD of his album “Prayer for Compassion” (the 2010 Grammy winner for Best New Age album) which I listened to in the car on the ride home. It would be the last time I’d ever see him.

A few days after my visit with David, I received an e-mail from him with a generous “quote” about my “new CD” (actually a compilation of older material). He singled out an arrangement I’d done of Bach’s “Air on a G-String” as “stunning” and recommended my album to “all music fans.”

I was shocked and saddened when I heard of David’s passing in January of 2021. Other than the fatigue he had expressed during our little jam session in Goshen, he’d seemed healthy, relaxed and contented. His album “Homage to Kindness” had just earned him his fourth Grammy nomination. I reflected on the enormous influence David had on me, how much of my music career had been shaped by my experiences with him, and how much joy he brought to music-making, whether performing at Carnegie Hall or leading an improvisation workshop of amateurs.

David Darling was a special kind of musician. I remember one time he remarked to a friend of mine, a fine classical cellist, “you can’t spend your whole life playing the Dvorak concerto.” He then looked at me, winked, and, with a chuckle said, “of course, if I could play it, I might feel differently!” I’ll always remember his charm, his wisdom, his incredible talent and his wit. His innovations on the cello are now commonplace, and with the development of looping devices, cellists can now perform “live” the kind of music David was creating with his multiple tracks of cello in the studio. His spirit will live on through his many recordings and the many people whose lives and hearts he touched. 

Richard Brooks

September 1, 2021

Drew Michael McWeeney

My neighbor, Bill Ahern, who is also an adjunct faculty member at Southern Connecticut State University, owns and operates a studio called Tapeworks in Hartford. In 2018, as a senior in college at the time, Bill and I were working on projects and he had approached me one day and asked me if I knew anything about engraving. Modestly, I said yes and asked why. Bill had told me about a man who is a frequent session musician at his studio named David. He gave me some background information on the man and I knew it was David Darling, because I grew up listening to Spyro Gyra, Bobby McFerrin and the Paul Winter Consort with my father.

I immediately jumped on the opportunity because as a college student, any opportunity would give me experience, which would help me make it in the world of music. About three weeks later, I got a call from Mr. Darling, and from what I remember, our conversation must have lasted for about three hours. At the end of the conversation, he invited me to his home in Goshen to begin work on the projects that he had planned and outlined. I wondered why a living legend like Mr. Darling would want me to be involved in his work. I thought I was not at his level at all. It was once I got to his home to where I knew that I would really get an education that would last me for my lifetime. I made sure that with every minute we spent together, I would utilize that time to learn about everything I could from him. And our times together were not always "serious business" as he would call it; we played some informal restaurant and bar performances together around Northwestern Connecticut, and it was clear that he was a master of his craft and just simply enjoyed being in the moment. Music aside, his normal way of life really complimented his command of the cello, which was remarkable. Our work spanned two years or so before he became very ill and could not be active, musically, anymore.

If I could be 1% the musician that he was, then I will have accomplished something in my life. I think the photo of us captures who Mr. Darling was: A humble, loving, and empowering human being who simply enjoyed being in the moment. I hope that we all can keep Mr. Darling's memory and music alive by learning just to appreciate the little things in life, because we really never know what tomorrow brings. I know for me, there is not a day that goes by that I don't think about Mr. Darling and his last words to me, which were: "Drew, as you get older, you get wiser. And when you get wiser, your opinions about things start to change. Just wait and see."
Thank you, Mr. Darling, for the opportunities you provided for me, and for taking a chance on me and giving me the time and of day that other people, musicians especially, would probably die to have. I will forever keep his music and memory alive by sharing with others his music that has clearly defined what society can really look like if we all can just listen, and love each other unconditionally.

Drew Michael McWeeney

November 1, 2021

Todd Rogers

Like all great teachers, David's work far transcended his subject and reached into the heart of all things. David found and celebrated the genius and inherent beauty of everyone he worked and played with. Here was a Grammy-winner who at a workshop, would sit in an ensemble and play a completely improvised piece of music with people who were timid, unsure and tentative. David's entire focus would be bringing out the music of the others in this group. He would share a flash of his musical brilliance to say, "it's OK to let yourself shine here", then lure them out with an irresistible groove, or an impish grin. Whatever small sound was offered in return was met with affirmation through imitating, celebrating, and in any way amplifying and uplifting it as if it was the greatest piece of musical genius he had ever heard. Because it truly was, and he showed us this. I, like most of you, sat in some of these ensembles and otherwise saw David perform this magic over and over again. He's still doing it - through those of us who carry his work onward and have, as he would say, made it our own. This small example of his teaching was a microcosm of a very large and ever-evolving approach that was always grounded in affirmation and compassion, constantly peppered with humor, a little insanity, and the reminder to not take yourself too seriously. The improvisational "ensemble" represents every group, community, nation that has to find its way through all challenges. It can only succeed through intense listening with an open heart and mind. It can only thrive with mutual support, with the expression of love, because there is no musical score to guide us. David showed us all that there are no wrong notes in this endeavor and I take heart from this family of people left in his wake to make music and community together in this way. And I am inspired to carry on his work in a world that needs it now more than ever.

Todd Rogers

December 1, 2021

Clíodhna Ní Aodáin

My most cherished teaching memory with David Darling is when we were reviewing videos of people facilitating Music for People groups. One group were all stepping in sync, except for one man, who just couldn’t get it together to feel the pulse. David’s feedback: “Let him be the leader!” Genius. To this day I am always reminded of this when I work with a group and there is a weak member. This is such a great teaching for Life. David Darling continues to inspire me every day. I listen to his music, I use his teaching ideas, I remember his laughing first mantra and try not to take myself too seriously. He taught me that music is everywhere and that everyone is full of music.

Clíodhna Ní Aodáin

December 1, 2021

Jackie Bhuyan

Today I am writing remembering early memories of my childhood friend David Darling who passed away one year ago today. David and I were born the same year in the small Midwestern town of Elkhart, Indiana. Our public schools had a wonderful music education program with equal opportunity and fine teachers in all neighborhoods regardless of their income level. Our high school orchestra performed the symphonic works of major Classical composers... Beethoven, Brahms, Mussorgsky, Tchaikovsky. David and I grew up together in this system learning and playing a variety of instruments in our school band and orchestra and singing in choir. Our mothers had grown up together, and both were very accomplished pianists and promoted our learning music. It was evident early on that David had a unique talent. He was always curious, seeking new kinds of music, and in awe of these discoveries all of his life. He early on relished getting groups of musicians together. In high school he formed the DD Band which played at our teenage dances. He beautifully performed cello solos with our high school orchestra in both his junior and senior high years, playing with that special feeling found in his playing all of his life. He also acted well in one of our high school plays. He was further part of a group of our high school music and drama students who wrote, and along with other students, performed a Broadway style musical about young love...story lines, songs, and orchestra parts for the community to enjoy. He was President of our HS orchestra, Captain of the HS tennis team. Both David and I grew up playing tennis in our neighborhood park just a few blocks from our childhood homes. His tennis strokes had that same skill, beauty and musical flow as the bowing of his cello. Upon graduating from HS, David went on to study music in college, and when he came home for the summers, was instrumental in organizing and conducting a summer orchestra for those still in junior and senior high school and college students who were home for the summer., putting on a concert of major works for the public at the end of summer.

After we finished our schooling, David and I went our separate ways....

We reconnected in our mid-sixties. I had been writing piano music all the while and mentioned always wanting to publish it. He promptly said, "You should".. He hadn't even heard it! such was his wonderful belief in each person's innate abilities. Through his mentoring and inspiration, I found myself in the Immersive Recording studio, where I recorded and produced two CDs of my compositions for solo piano, and subsequently with David, recorded and produced the "Improvisations for Cello and Piano" in a two-day recording session which was a most beautiful experience, creating a musical conversation between two old close friends on our instruments.

Jackie Bhuyan

January 2, 2022

Zuleikha

Like so many artists, I worked with David for years, in all kinds of venues- schools, performances, universities, major theaters, living rooms, gymnasiums, outdoors.. David got the idea that when something was amazing or special, one should inhale a bit, audibly. I recall picking him up at the airport in Albuquerque for a Rumi Concert. We drove up to Santa Fe on the back roads. He made that sound many times when he saw the vast sky and the red colored mountains of the high mountain desert.

David was a genius. A very good musician, with a mischievous streak and a heart and soul for beauty and innovation.

I met him in the early days of the Omega Institute where we were part of the Arts week for many years. We started performing together. He created gong-like sounds out of Bundt cake pans. He always had a bag of unusual things for soundscapes. And of course, his cello. His beautiful cello. And what made his cello beautiful? His love of music.

David had a knack for harmony and a knack for exploration. The combo delighted audiences. During the many years I performed with David, he alwaya had a certain solo about half way through our amazing Rumi Concert with Coleman Barks, poet and translator of Rumi, Glen Velez supreme percussionist, and myself, a Storydancer of rhythms, stories and expression.. so often with an audience of 900, David would casually tell everyone to take out their keys. Then he would instruct them in an offhand kind of way just how to play the keys as an instrument, on a beat ,while he would sing and play cello. His ' mama mama mam ba boso mia' jazz like language uplifted the hall. He got 900 people to do call and response with funny simple syllables and keys for the rhythm. It brought down the house

Ah David. That was brilliant And a hoot! And to be sure, a heart-opener for everyone. David actually was Music for People. He wanted everyone to be lifted into the wonder of music. And he knew everyone could make music. That's I guess what brought us together- I know everyone can move and sing , that we are movement expression and he knew everyone can play music and sing, that everyone is music.

He loved playing cello and singing with my storydances. He loved the spontaneity, as did I with him. We could improvise and riff together. Sometimes we had to try not to laugh in performance. Something I sorely miss. He could 'catch the feeling' , ' get the gist' , which allowed me to play in the comic as well as cosmic atmosphere. And he played along. The Rumi Concert went a lot of places, and David was always amazed at something, learning, wherever we went.

If you hear Coleman or Glen or Eugene from The Rumi Concert and every other musician who worked with him, poets and and lovers of music, when they hear the name David Darling, you might see them shake their head, pause and say something like, "Yeah.... David Darling..." and then smile., tap the heart, make a gesture into the sonic waves.

Thank you David. We love you.

Zuleikha, Swan Lake Publishing

April 13, 2022

Mary Knysh

There are moments in our lives, if we are lucky enough to have them, where we encounter another person who has such an incredible impact on our entire being, that we know in an instant our lives are forever transformed. Because of this tremendous impact, and perhaps even “force of nature”, we can mark this meeting of souls as a point at which our life path completely changed. This is the best way that I can describe the experience of encountering and stepping into the magnificent and magical world of renowned cellist David Darling and his organization, Music for People.

It was in the autumn of 1989 that I first had the opportunity to hear David play at an evening concert prior to a workshop he was leading the next day at Immaculata University outside of Philadelphia, PA. After meeting him that weekend my bandmate and good friend of David’s at the time, Jonathan Edwards, and I met David in a lovely barn in western Massachusetts owned by the Spears and spent the weekend recording music. It was an extraordinary experience and one that shaped my musical life from that moment on.

Last weekend, 33 years later, I find myself at that same University sharing the life-altering and inspirational body of creative and improvisational play that David shared with me so many years ago. I joined Music for People’s musicianship and leadership program in 1990 and when I graduated, I began a 30+ year relationship with David that has not only changed my life but the lives of so many people that have joined the countless workshops, concerts, and seminars he offered over many decades in locations all over the world.

David was the kind of quirky genius so full of music and sound that it flowed out of him like a child at play, and indeed this is the mantra he shared at every event, return to child, step into an attitude of awe and wonderment where each and every sound and silent space paint a landscape of possibility for self-expression, for creation and imagination. I knew from the first moment with David that my life would never be the same. It was as if I had been asleep most of my life and somebody suddenly tapped my spiritual shoulder and said “excuse me Mary, but THIS is your path, your passion, your sacred calling.”

So began my life-long journey into the sometimes mysterious, unpredictable, often precarious, and ultimately fascinating and magical world of music improvisation with David Darling. I offer incredible gratitude to Mickey Houlihan for his collaborations and recordings with David as these are the golden threads of sound that keep David close to my heart. I use David’s music for movement and warm-ups at our Music for People seminars and workshops so that participants new to our organization can meet our founder and know him through his music while they are learning to embrace and celebrate their own musical spirit through creative play. David’s philosophy embraces the belief that everyone has the gift of music within them and if provided with guidance, support, creative freedom, and a hint of inspiration they will discover the majesty and magic of their own unique inner world of sonic expression.

It is with gratitude, joy, love, and a bittersweet sense of loss that I write this, two years to the day from my last visit with David Darling before he passed. I am greatly honored to share his creative work and music with as many as I can these days as I believe this work brings healing to our troubled world. It is my most sincere hope that David’s smile, his humor, and his passion for music, love, and life will dance in my soul for the rest of my life. Thank you, David, “It’s YOU!”

Mary E. Knysh

October 18, 2022

James Oshinsky

I can leave it to others to describe how inspirational David Darling was as a musician, teacher, mentor and friend.  I had the odd role of watching him from inside the workshop spaces and trying to capture the essence of his teaching in words.  David never objected to my efforts, but rarely joined in the process.  He knew that most of his genius was going to defy containment or codification; in fact, we both knew that.  Nonetheless, I knew that he was unique in his approach to teaching and that he was a Master worth emulating when it came to creating immersive musical experiences that would welcome a broad swath of musical humanity.  He was engaging and disarming in his virtuoso/clown persona. And as an educational trailblazer, he found new routes to personal and social expressiveness, starting with improvisation as the first and featured musical skill.  He did this by simplifying the path in short, poetic mottos:  silence is your friend, be a master of what you can control, pay attention to quality, not quantity.   From these seeds came the Music for People organization and its many musical advocates of humanistic musical education, putting people and their personal engagement in music ahead of all lessons and techniques.  These latter items exist to serve expression, not constrain it.  These were, and are radical ideas.

I was part of the fan club of the Paul Winter Consort when David was a member playing ragas and Jimi Hendrix licks on his cello.  I was in attendance at David’s workshops at Joanie Spears’  barn and at Princeton, soaking up as much of his approach as was available.  I was honored to be part of the first Board of Music for People, and the first Teacher Training Committee, giving rise to many of the structures that have sustained the organization for 30+ years.  Eventually, this immersion yielded written material that preserved the activities and the attitude of David’s teaching - the Return to Child book (2004, 2015), The Music Doctor Improv Cards (2021) and Simple and Daring (with Mary Knysh) (2023).  Through David’s influence, I was able to be hired to teach improvisation at Adelphi University and shape the mindsets of a generation of music educators bound for band, orchestra and chorus classes with a background in David’s style of improvisation.  That has been my mission in generating texts that have been printed and reprinted, and sold internationally over these past 20 years.  David’s legacy also lives in the materials I have collected as part of the improv library for the Adelphi class. These materials I regularly share with other educators as a professional courtesy.  Just ask.  David began many of his workshops with recordings of players he found inspirational, from the laser-clear tones of the Bulgarian Women’s Choir or the Native American group Ulali, to the readings of Allaudin Mathieu on the variety of ways to listen musically.  What he liked and what he was fascinated by grew him as a musician and a human being.  Let’s all live not just with his clown nose, but with big ears and a bigger heart.

James Oshinsky

June 2023

Joan Spear

I first heard David while driving cross-country with my siblings in 1975. We had a tape of the Paul Winter Consort and I was mesmerized by David’s melodic journey through Icarus. I never dreamed that years later I would get to know both David and Paul as my neighbors in Litchfield.

I met David when I enrolled in a music improv workshop at Omega in 1984. I had a nursing baby with me and a teenage baby sitter. My memory of the workshop was of David walking around with his cello hanging off his neck, gesticulating with both hands letting us know ‘I am NOT my cello’. One afternoon he unpacked Ravel’s Bolero with us, playing a record (remember those?) over and over for hours and hours until finally we were singing parts and dancing through the room. 

My family moved to LItchfield in 1986 and I remember spending time in David’s front room studio on Prospect Street. It was filled with drums, bundt pans and other instruments while David’s young family lived in the rest of the house listening to him make music at all hours of day and night.

Wherever David lived- be it Baldwin Hill or up in Cornwall and finally on Sherbrook Dr, he was always surrounded by the archives of his music. He was so prolific and saved his recordings, musings, incomplete and completed projects. I remember shelves and shelves of cassette tapes, labeled and numbered. Inspiring.

I lived in a house with a wonderful barn that we converted to a music studio. David conducted some of the earliest MfP workshops in that barn. He welcomed everyone, including my crawling infants. With Bonnie Insull and David as the leaders, Ingrid Bredenberg, Jim Oshinsky and I were among the first Board of Directors for MfP. What a beautiful vision for an organization that is still growing and supporting music-making around the world!

David brought Mickey Houlihan over to my resonant music barn and they decided to record the ‘Tao of Cello’ there. Of course it stormed all night as they were trying to record. But they produced a beautiful and resonant collection of music that night.

David was always such an encouraging and supportive cheerleader for everyone. He always wanted to hear what I was writing and called me, as he did everyone…Joanie ‘THE GREAT’. After Obama was elected in 2008 I ran into him in the grocery store. He sidled up next to me and the onions and potatoes and said, “I think it’s time for you to write a song celebrating Obama”. It was enough of a catalyst for Thomasina Levy and me to collaborate on ‘Out of Many We Are One’. The lyrics were culled from lines from Obama’s speeches. It went on to win a Nammy Award, Best Song Single 2011. David, among many other musicians, played on this song.

David influenced so many of us, encouraged everyone always and was inspiringly generous with his time and mentorship. His suffering, his personal demons and his challenges may have cast dark shadows around him at times but we are all so lucky to have orbited this unusual, talented and one-of-a-kind shining light.

Joan Spear

July 2023

Ted Zook

David Darling first came to my notice when I visited my daughter (https://www.rebeccazookmusic.com/) during her freshman year at Boston University.  She had told me about David, saying that there were many recordings of his work.  So, we went to a record store in Cambridge looking for his CDs.  We were unsuccessful in finding any, but I was intrigued by the notion of this fellow who improvised -- I also enjoyed spending that time with her!

Rebecca later told me about Music for People's ("MfP") Adventures in Improvisation workshop that David was leading that summer up at the Marvelwood School in western Connecticut.  I dropped her off at the workshop.  I came back a week later to pick Rebecca up (and to then take her to an electronic music class at Oberlin), and there I met David for the first time -- happily, our paths would cross numerous times after that!  Rebecca had obviously had a wonderful experience, and MfP's focus on improvisation resonated deeply within me.  So, I asked Rebecca if it would be OK for me to start coming to the workshops; thankfully, she told me that it would be. 

So, beginning in October 1999, I started attending MfP workshops.  I'm glad that I did; I often describe MfP as providing the "wind in my sails" as a musician.  David was so supportive of my development as a musician.  Although I first participated on nylon-string guitar (my primary instrument, to which I was returning after a lengthy absence occasioned by parenting, eldercare, career obligations, etc.), I became aware of Ned Steinberger's development of the NS Design OmniBass/Bass Cello (https://tinyurl.com/23sf9vur).  Tempted by the instrument's "long note" ability -- and by David's use of NS Design instruments (I saw that he had several in a room adjacent to his "Camp David" studio) -- I bought a 5-string version and the necessary amplification gear.   I should point out that I've never studied cello, just nylon-string guitar; that duly confessed, I often apply David's extended techniques in performance on the OmniBass/Basscello.

David unfailingly encouraged me to perform as a soloist at MfP's "Listener's Choice" sessions.  Apart from MfP, I started performing in a succession of improvisational ensembles in the Washington DC/Baltimore/upstate NY area:  The Lost Civilizations experimental music project (https://www.tedzook.com/lost-civilizations/); Heterodyne (https://www.tedzook.com/heterodyne/); MAZE (https://www.tedzook.com/maze-aaron-martin-and/); Rosati and Zook (https://www.tedzook.com/rosati-and-zook/), during breaks at MfP workshops with MfP graduate Susan Rosati; and now Fanoplane (https://www.tedzook.com/fanoplane/), co-founded with NPR's Bob Boilen (https://bobboilen.info/).  Often, MfP graduate Patrick Whitehead (https://www.musicforpeople.org/wp/graduates/patrick-whitehead/) would join us at these performances.  Guided by MfP's ethos, none of these ensembles ever rehearsed, used sheet music, discussed beforehand what we were going to do, or the key in which we were going to do it; rather, we'd just show up, load in, tune up and play!  I've also performed as an improvising soloist on basscello and miscellaneous objects (https://tinyurl.com/mappn2tn; https://www.tedzook.com/solo/).   After all of these experiences, I've likened improvisation with jumping off a cliff into the arms of the Muse.

Although the Chimiak & Zook (https://www.tedzook.com/chimiak-zook/) duo focused on prepared songwork, during breaks in our rehearsals we'd improvise.

The Pandemic, followed by some serious but unrelated health issues from which I'm now recovering, have necessitated that I temporarily discontinue performing, but I'm "rarin' to go" as soon as circumstances allow -- this time on a smaller 5-string NS Design cello.  It and the necessary amplification gear are much easier to schelp around, particularly if stairs are involved -- the past 75 years have taken their toll!

Although I was not directly involved in any of MfP's outstanding training programs, I was awarded "Honorary Graduate" status (https://www.musicforpeople.org/wp/graduates/ted-zook/) -- I gather that this honor was conferred as a result of my having attended so many MfP workshops over the years.

My wife and I hosted Italian-American percussionist Andrea Centazzo (https://andreacentazzo.com/) for an appearance on the Kennedy Center's Millennium Stage as part of the 2010 Sonic Circuits Festival of Experimental Music (https://soniccircuits.bandcamp.com/).  Following his performance, Mike Sebastian (co-founder of the Lost Civilizations experimental music project, supra.), cellist Janel Leppin (https://janelleppin.com/), Andrea and I met back at our home to record some work, which was released as September Impressions (https://ictusrecords.com/catalogue/improvised-music-and-new-jazz-series/september-impressions/) on Andrea's ICTUS label.  On embarrassingly short notice, I asked David to review the work just before it went to press, and he graciously agreed:

"I would easily say that this cellist and this group is inspirational and the cellist has the best lines and sound that I have ever heard including myself . . . Great and Unique music."

Typical David!

Several years ago, David and MfP's Julie Weber recorded much of his approach in https://clintgoss.bandcamp.com/album/the-darling-conversations (Clint Goss (https://www.musicforpeople.org/wp/graduates/clint-goss/) is an MfP graduate).

To make a very long story short, I wouldn't be where I am today as a person or as a musician were it not for David and the MfP community he led!  I often tell folks that one's teachers and mentors are always at one's elbow, even long after they've left this mortal plain.  David has validated that beyond any doubt; indeed, his guidance and support if anything continues to snowball -- he's ever present!  Also, my MfP experience has led me to embrace Sun Tzu's maxim "opportunities multiply as they are seized", to which I'm now appending "opportunities are Destiny's gifts".  Finally, David's guidance has led me to the realization that the wheel of the Muse has many spokes, all of which are necessary for it to function!

Ted Zook

July 2023

John Marshal

David was a master at creating Long sound scapes, moods and aural immersions …. He was so fascinated by percussion and rhythmic possibilities….. I specifically remember him running upstairs to the kitchen, emptying a  small plastic container of cat treats, replacing the treats with grained sugar and closely recording a pattern with his amazing mics, transforming a nearly inaudible sound into a concert hall instrument!! He loved frame drums and used to watch me very closely as I was tracking…

I felt honored and protected when he did this!

During these years, I was on deck at Camp David for many many recordings by some terrific artists…Robert Weinstein, Chad Hardin, Joseph FireCow, Susan Rosati just to name a few. Of course, it was always an honor to  play on David’s own albums…those sessions were so gratifying, often spanning the wee hours of the night… nothing but massive creativity as time stood still or dissipated all together.

Thank you, David Darling for mentoring me and demanding some of my best work… From concertizing with Zalleuka and ColemanBarks to performing as a trio to a sold out show with Joe Bouchard of Blue Oyster Cult, he provided me with musical opportunities that were always original and fully gratifying.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid0eXe268drHxMmQBcAgJC9LbMZ32whantKqRcj9sWXpr9RsLfECbSEn3Y1fz4wYkhgl&id=528622694&mibextid=0cALme

John Marshal

July 2023

Paul Butler

The 30 year Anniversary of the release of Eight String Religion by David Darling and Mickey Houlihan.

David and I met in August 1987 at Immaculata College (known today as Immaculata University) at a Music and Healing Conference founded by Sister Jean Anthony - another luminary. David was doing his Music For People workshop. Thus began a great adventure!!!

There are many stories along David’s and my path together. I will be rambling around a few in the words that follow.

It is April 1992. David asked Helmut Lipsky - violin, and I - clarinet, WX7 wind synthesizer, to perform with him in a trio at the International Cello Festival in Montreal, Canada. David and I drove up together in his Ford Taurus station wagon. I was honored, excited, nervous. We had a rehearsal at Helmut’s home. Music was good and the 3 of us flowed together.

At the performance, David had a menu of ideas, and, in his true David way, just before we walked on stage, said “see you on the other side”! Ha! I loved it and wait - WHAT?

The show was going well. We were in a spirited funky improvisation when, at a calm moment , David went into the beautiful melody of “Only One Wish”. It was beautiful the way the melody emerged from the calm after the funky. The form took us through the tune into another funky space, back to the tune to a sweet ending with David on Cello and Vocals, Helmut on Violin wisps, and myself on the Wind Synthesizer on a whistle obligato. Magic.

On July 29, 2023 - less than 2 weeks ago, I had the honor to perform “Only One Wish” in concert again 31 years later with the same Helmut Lipsky on violin at the Clazz International Music Festival in the Medival Village of Arcidosso, Tuscany, Italy. We did not know that it was about to be the 30th anniversary of Eight String Religion on which the piece “Only One Wish” is a track on that recording.  Also performing on this concert was Eugene Friesen - cello (who took over the Cello seat in the Paul Winter Consort after David left to do his own exploring), Crispin Campbell - cello, Andrea Pellegrini - piano, Laura Andriani - violin, Nancy Stagnitta - flute, Jean-Francois Martel - bass, and Shawn Mativetsky - tabla and percussion.

The concert was magic!! And “Only One Wish” had great energy!!!

It is difficult to put into words what it means to perform with Helmut 31 years after David asked us to perform in a trio with him. And that is David- he introduces people to each other that bond and become great friends. ( I met Robert Weinstien-guitar, and John Marshall-percussion, while wearing headphones, while working on one of David’s projects.  We are deep friends to this day.  Mickey Houlihan is another who I met through David and  the connection is deep.). And also to perform on this concert with Eugene who joined The Paul Winter Consort after David left to explore his own music-WOW!   The circle gets larger and small at the same time. And that was a part of David to me-everything got larger and smaller at the same time.   A profound musical moment would end up in extreme belly laugh- then back to profound. 

This concert in Italy was-is hard to decode-also like David.  I am forever changed by performing David’s music from Eight String Religion 30 years after its release and with Helmut and Eugene, and Crispin and Andrew.   I am moved beyond having known David, having helped him fix his house, having assisted him in Music for People workshops, having him declare me the first “graduate” of the Teacher Training Program on the bench by the lake at Omega Institute, and Bonnie Insull asking “what was the criteria?” Which lead to the actual Music for People Teacher Training Program, having helped him when things were dark, having worked with him on amazing musical projects- in performance and in the studio, having been deep friends sharing deep not so pretty parts of ourselves with each other, and transforming that “stuff”, through love, into beautiful music , that was rich and full of everything we could out into it, dive deep, come up for air or other  sustenance, and dive deep again.

I miss you David.  And know that your music and your spirit live on.  You are a joy!  Life is a grand place having spent a few minutes with you.

Thank you, I love you.

Paul Butler

August 2023