Over a recent holiday, I was rummaging through my mother’s basement. I found a book called “Notes on the Piano,” by Ernst Bacon. I had enjoyed it very much when I was a kid. When I returned to work, I found in the mail a new compact disc called “Ernst Bacon: The Complete Works for Solo Guitar.”
I would not contend that America or the world is in a Bacon moment. But I’m in one, personally. And others may want to know about Bacon, or get reacquainted with him.













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