Blacksburg, Virginia. 10:20 AM. Sunday.

An ordinary sunny Sunday in Virginia? At first it seems that way. But beneath the quiet facade of this apartment complex lurks a story of heartbreak and loss. Loss of love- and loss of sanity and peace for the neighbors.

A second floor apartment. All is well, it seems. Multiple dogs and cats loll on the furniture, while human beings sit on the floor, unable to move them. At 7 AM, the peace is shattered. The music starts. The pianist downstairs has broken up, it seems, with her cello-playing boyfriend.

For nearly two years she has enjoyed many a duet with this man. But alas. No more. She has nothing in her life but practice.

In her grief, she branches out musically, producing:

– Bach at 2 AM
– voice arias
– violin
– lots and lots of piano and voice excercises
– this morning, the recorder. Accompanied by something that might be a dulcimer but in any case, a stringed instrument she is banging on mercilessly.

The news team has taken a defensive position in the spare bedroom where it is quieter.

I will continue reporting on this groundbreaking story of personal loss and personal expression through musical pollution as details become available.

And now back to the studio. Katie?