History, revisited

Kingdom of Heaven was a visually . beautiful movie. Now that Orlando Bloom is no longer riding the LotR / PotC wave, I suppose it might be easier to watch it without seeing Legolas in the Holy Lands. The biggest visual draw-back of the whole movie is Eva Green. Jeeze... can't she ditch the over-done icky eye makeup that's in all her work?

This is the Crusades done to Eyes Without a Face, Billy Idol.
At least the focus on this isn't so bad, as long as you don't make it full-screen.

Yes, this is a simplistic summary of the Crusades. It is also much, much better than the 6th Grade history textbook I looked at a few years ago. At least it mentions
a) that there were more reasons than "for the glory of god"
b) the Children's crusade
c) other consequences of the wars beyond "Europeans got their ass kicked by the Muslims"





and, if you want Kingdom of Heaven on screen - watch in on a big-screen if possible. The big battle scenes and the long shots of Jerusalem/surrounding lands are better big. The costuming and visuals are really impressive. It's Ridley Scott, a.k.a., Gladiator, in his historian (and unfortunately not Alien) mode. Balian's "rise a knight" speech is Hollywood-esque overdone "ain't the little peasant peon really the center of all that is Right and Good, who are the True Good Guys". It's one of those "sort-of-based upon a story we think the scriptwriter once read", but at least they didn't hire a WASP to play Saladin.

http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi1418789145/
sorry, can't figure out how to imbed it from IMdB.

Scales & arpeggios

My 6-year old currently struggles to read, letter-by-letter. Consequently, he doesn't get the emotional impact of the text. Whereas, I can just let the letters pass and I get it. I found an analogy to music.

When I first learned to play an instrument (piano), it made sense to me as an 8-year old that one would somehow need to provide directions, i.e., the written music - probably not intuitively, afterall I'd spent my whole life seeing my mom play the piano. I could read words by that time, but learning to read music proved very difficult, to get both the bass & treble clef going at the same time. It was (and to a great extent still is) like reading two different books at the exact same time.

Later in life, when I finally pursued wind instruments, and fell in love with music as a hobbyist musician, I finally learned to read music, not just notes.

The same child has recently fallen in love with playing on my electric keyboard (a residual tool from singing in a choir and struggling to overcome hearing my own voice on/off pitch). The other day, while he was playing around with it, I reached over and started playing a scale while concurrently singing it. He was astonished, but promptly remembered the scene in The Aristocats, where one of the kittens is practicing singing her "scales and arpeggios" while the mom-cat plays the piano.

So far, Jr.Gopher#1 seems much more fluent reading in German than English. I think I'll need to check the availability of more German-language kids books to entice him to enjoy reading. Unfortunately, all of the sources for them domestically are really expensive - - and the trans-Atlantic shipping prices from amazon.de are horrifically high since they don't do surface shipping. I guess I'll need to ship it free deutsche-domestically to OmaGopher and have her ship it to us cheaply. sigh ...
.

Requiem of Doom

Riddle of Steel / Riders of Doom: if you remember Conan the Barbarian, you'll remember the tune (track 2). Lord only knows, but parts of it, esp. 3:50 make me think of the Requiem mass: Dona eis requiem aeternam to a pounding, driving over-the-top Williams-esque heroic tune. Rather appropriate, in this case: eternal rest grant unto them as Conan is killing everyone.

The tune is not exactly the version in the modern Gregorian tradition or even Mozart. Yes, yes, the picky adherents to the Church of Rome will point out that the 'official' order of the text is 'requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine'. However, given the glory of Latin declination of nouns, it shouldn't really matter in which order they are used.

Failing my current profession, perhaps I can turn to a life setting the Latin Mass to new settings.
et lux perpetua luceat eis.

pushing band candy

hee hee hee hee

Dancing

JrGopher#2 loves to dance. The other night both of the boys were shakin' their booties. We were looking at clips of Fantasia 2000 on YouTube.

We ran across a rendition of The Lion Sleeps Tonight: I started my hand moving in rhythm to the music - as one of the animated characters was. Jr.#2 promptly started doing the same thing. Not just mindlessly copying, like babys, but an enthusiastic joy. Jr.Gopher#1 was having much more fun mimicking the dog at about 0:24 min. Both boys were singing along as well.

Alas, our camera is broken.

A Night of Music - and what a night it was ...

Our friend, Dr.Nuke - a.k.a. Joachim - was the first person I ever met named Joachim. Not so surprising, since I'm American. Now I can't seem to get away from them. Some child who attends the same after-school group with Jr.Gopher#1 has a father named Joachim. I often see the last name before mine is Joachim-something. Some artwork I admired was from some other German guy named Joachim. And now, Joachim Neugart, the conductor for the Neuss Chamber Orchestra/Kammerorchestra.

He (and they) performed last night at the Germanic-American Institute in St. Paul. We attended. All 4 of us.

The St. Paul German-immersion pre-school is located on the property; the Institute opened it for the evening to allow parents like us to be able to attend something spiffy and not hire a baby sitter. Not really out of any warm-fuzzy hearted feelings, but more since some of the German School's students were performing, and in order to get *their* parents to come, some incentivization was required.

The Jr. Gophers had the opportunity to attend something cultural that children generally don't - the evening chamber orchestra with hors d'oeuvres and getting 'dressed up'. The evening started right about when we're usually telling the boys to put on their pyjamas. This was Michael's first exposure to life classical music, not just the radio in Papa's car.

Gregor departed fairly early to the child-care group. After winning the hearts and minds of every woman over the age of 50, i.e., most of the women there. He looked really handsome (sweetly adorable) in a white oxford shirt & slacks. I, on the other hand, took the opportunity again to wear my new elegant high heels, even if I'm quite certain none of these women noticed.

Michael lasted through the first piece: two movements from Haydn's Symphony No. 1 in D; his attention disappeared during something in Hawai'ian by a local choral group. He then went out to the children's enclave.

Peter & I had a lovely evening listening to lovely music - okay, so I liked Holst better and Peter liked Haydn. The conductor made a point that the St. Paul's Suite wasn't written for anyone in Minnesota.

The program was called "Ein Nacht voller Muzik" A night full of music ... Yes, opening at the GAI with
Twin Cities' German Immersion School student string group
Neuss City Chamber Orchestra playing Haydn (Symp. 1 D) & Holst (St. Paul Suite),
Rose Ensemble singing in Hawai'ian,
the chamber orchestra again, playing with the school children
and then in the car on the way home The Wailin' Jennies: Water from a Deeper Well
while Gregor belted out "Laterne Laterne Sonne Mond und Sterne, brenne ...." (currently his favorite song), then the boys wanted for bed-time songs the ABC-song, and Froggie went a-courtin'.

Let's hear it for eclectic music.


On the ride home, we asked Michael what his favorite part of the evening was, if he enjoyed the (grown up) musicians. He said yes, in a rather non-assertive manner, and then waxed poetic about the huge pretzels ...



Saturday's bed time lights out was 10 p.m. Central Standard time, or rather 11 p.m. Central Daylight Savings' Time.
Ein Morgen(morning) voller Muzik was neither advertised nor occurred. The Tobias men stayed in bed this morning while the Tobias woman went to St. Albert's and did *not* listen to music; unless you consider the wailin' 15-mo. old boy's 45 min cry to be music. It was our turn for during-Mass-child-care. At least one person from the German school noted that someone failed to consider Daylight Savings switch as part of the children's schedule. Although, serendipitously, the wailing boy's parents tried to buy tickets to the GAI concert, which was sold out... Maybe if they'd gone, the boy would have been home in bed, like mine.

Boogie Kids (96 bottles of beer on the wall)

JrGopher#2 loves to dance. Last night both of the boys were shakin' their booties.

We ran across a rendition of The Lion Sleeps Tonight: I started my hand moving in rhythm to the music - as one of the animated characters was. Jr.#2 promptly started doing the same thing. Not just mindlessly copying, like babys, but an enthusiastic joy. Jr.Gopher#1 was having much more fun mimicking the dog at about 0:24 min. Both boys were singing along as well.

Ah, yes, our camera is broken... otherwise I would have posted it to YouTube myself.

Welcome to my world

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

Jr. Gopher #1 really likes this

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

... bored yet?

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.
Und als sie dann nach Hause kam,
da hatt´sie weiße Stiefel an.
ABC, die Katze lief im Schnee.

We Will Rock You

Mr. Gopher & I have tickets to the U2 concert here in June.

As it's on campus, there's finally been an immediate financial incentive - other than the cheap bus pass - to being a student.

>> rev. apparently it sold out in 2 hours when it went on general ticket sales.

Business bonus points

Last night I was at the Varsity Theater over in Dinkytown. Behind the bar were two signs:

Bottled water: $1.50

Ear plugs: $1


Just as I'm in the midst of a series of papers on occupational hearing loss for PubH 6020 ... perhaps I'll mention it in my next paper. At least if I decide to go back there for a concert, I won't need to worry about having my own ear plugs. I'm curious to know whether or not the employees there have to wear them during shows?

Awesome

It Might Get Loud
due out in August
Jimmy Page, Jack White & The Edge
this looks awesome

[review] The Soloist

Went to see The Soloist a few days ago. Music & Drama: a pleasant combination. Downey & Foxx: another pleasant combination. Author & Ms.Gopher: friends always a pleasant combination. Altogether, a pleasant experience. The Author wrote - of course - a nice review of the movie here.

Up here in lovely (and as of today mosquito-free) Land of the North Star, the question of ethics and medical treatment are the topic d'jour. (Although perhaps the topic of ethics & Hollywood & Good Samaritan-ism ought to be, too.) Anyway - movies

How much right do We (a.k.a. Society) have to dictate someone else's well-being? If someone is not demanding anything of Us, should we be able to demand anything of them in return?

An L.A. Times writer inadvertently meets a mentally ill, yet extremely talented, homeless musician. I'm wondering how to describe this person. Does our description reveal our prejudices? Which is the noun used here? Musician, homeless, or schizophrenic? Does it matter? At one point in the film, we see 'sanity' merging with 'insanity' with sufficient stress and stellar acting from Downey.

I don't recall anymore what the specific script prompt was, but it included the Lord's Prayer. I sincerely wish I could watch that 2 minutes of it again. The musician & reporter were in Skid Row to give The Viewer a montage of the misery of living on the streets and being God Awfully Poor. The recitation of the prayer had gotten to "... give us this day our daily bread..." as the camera is panning down the alley past a soup kitchen line. "... for thine is the kingdom ..." looking down a seemingly endless homeless shelter. Driving home (no doubt quite intentionally) the point that these people are the God's Kingdom as much as the Rich sitting on their therapists' couches explaining their financially motivated neuroses.

Unlike my friend The Author, who is concurrently A Musician, I am an enthusiast rather than a skilled musician. I wouldn't have recognized the specific pieces of Beethoven's music (in fact, I wouldn't have even recognized it as Beethoven). Being stupendously ignorant of the specifics of music theory or classification (is he Baroque?Romantic?HeavyMetal?Other?), I'm not sure if the choices of music were really the best available from J.S.'s extensive repertoire. They are stylistically apt, at any rate.

I'm not sure if the central point of the movie is the issues of mental illness & coping with society's expectations thereto - or whether it is about the relationship between two different men - or perhaps nothing at all. Will the musician get treatment? (maybe yes, maybe no) Will the reporter get a story? (definitely, this is based upon a book) Will Society act on the burgeoning poverty in L.A. (who are you kidding?) Perhaps the one aspect the most appealing is the depiction of the musician's descent into mental illness. This one string of the story is the most interesting. At what point is it recognized as illness? How does this effect the family cohesion? This topic could perhaps get its own movie, solo.

The soloist is whom? The isolated homeless man? The divorced reporter? Or any one of us in society who are inevitably cut off from a whole lot of the rest of society?

Gopher's Rating:
Definitely see it on video

[rev.] Halleluja

Leonard Cohen is a powerful poet. One can argue about his qualities as a vocal performer; since I don't think opera or Broadway has a corner on quality, he's fine in my book. The Essential Leonard Cohen is on my Amazon Shopping List, and I'm struggling whether or not to buy it before the end of the school year, as a present to myself for finishing without totally losing my mind... or whether I ought to buy it now, because after losing my mind I'll .....

The whole reason I'm considering buying this album is because it has this Hallelujah. Perhaps I should say I really want that one track, and at $14, a 2-CD package of tons of other stuff is almost irresistible.

Hallelujah: There are countless arrangements on this theme. Going back 1800 years or so. This is the music/prayer sung immediately before reading the Gospel during Mass. The joyous celebration that there is a word of god to hear. We want to connect with the divine. Handel's glorious chorus is often what one imagines: perky happiness of the entire soul passionately seeing some true expression of joy.

But we aren't always (in fact, probably rarely) happy when searching for a way to connect with god ... What is one to do, looking at death, misery and the desecration if not destruction of the world, if one is trying to sing to the glory of God?

I recommend the Randal Thompson composition from 1948-ish. It was commissioned before World War 2, and actually written afterwards. It is mournful, very slow, in a minor key and anything other than joyous. Although it does perk up at the very end to "not morosely slow", perhaps having found some solace in the completion of sorrow.

Cohen's piece I believe, truly brings forth the sorrow of searching, and perhaps not finding, a god to praise. 'yearning but helpless prayer' was used to describe one of his more recent songs. The use of simple music behind the vocals in the verses mimics the minimalistic presence of god at times, erupting into a resigned but emphatic chorus of "Halleluja". Although, as the word is so often associated with Christianity, I do wonder if people notice neither of the figures referred to are Christian? Not a surprise, as he's a Jew; yet it appeals to my Catholic visceral response.

It doesn’t matter which you heard,
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn’t much,
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I told the truth, I didn’t come to fool ya
And even though it all went wrong,
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but
Hallelujah

I love the phrase "the broken halleluja".

The use of this in the recent flick "Watchmen" is nicely poignant. A paean to lost opportunities consummated perhaps too late in life.

A little bit of everything

I'm sitting in the Hosmer library struggling to estimate the operational costs for electrical energy (i.e., the bill from XCel) for the ventilation system I apparently screwed up in hte last homework. I have the little study room, so my computer has music playing without needing earphones. (nice)
iTunes is set to random tune selection. There are times when it really hits home how diverse one's musical tastes can be. It just pulled up:

Peggy Lee
Rocky Horror Picture Show
Carl Orf's Carmina Burana
Ralph von Williams
Cowboy Junkies
Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Enigma
Leonard Cohen

Beethoven Quartet

Beethoven Quartet for 2 Honkers, Dinger & Cello:
The Chamber Music Society of Sesame Street with Yo Yo Ma

The Missing LInk

I was told this disappeared off my blog. Then the more I thought about it, the more I think I emailed it to a select audience. Anyway, here it is for public consumption. "It's a send up of the chord combination us music-theory dorks would refer to as I V vi IV"

I admire the scope of the comparison. Although i think the only reason A-ha got such a long segment was to show off the singer's falsetto range. I can only sing that high after warming up. If you got this as an email, the clip here is a "live" version, which is much funnier to watch.




Now, that said ... the options that pop up at the end of the video (scrolling across at the bottom), the poster obviously has an interest in music theory. One of the automatic YouTube suggestions, however, is in a similar vein. This is g.damned funny.





And, in case you're fond of instructional, how-to videos, the band (in the 1st video) also has:
How to Kill a Hooker
How to Bake a Scone
How to Catch a Duck

Inspiration of the Muses

The following is from Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. I just enjoyed it so much, I thought I'd share it. This is around p. 22, before any of the graphic slaughter occurs. This is set at an immigrant Lithuanian wedding in 1906. I assume my immigrant forefathers celebrated St. Patrick's Day; I'll use it for other immigrants. It occurs to me this is roughly the same time Grandpa Sullivan's family came over.

The little person who leads the trio is an inspired man. His fiddle is out of tune, and there is no rosin on his bow, but still he is an inspired man - the hands of the Muses have been laid upon him. He plays like one possessed by a demon, of a whole hoard of demons. You can feel them in the air round about him, capering frenetically; with their invisible feet they set the pace, and the hair of the leader of the orchestra rises on end, and his eyeballs start from their sockets, as he toils to keep up with them.

[Tamoszius] has taught himself to play the violin by practicing all night, after working all day on the killing-floor. ... He is only about five feet high, but even so, these trousers are about eight inches short of the ground. You wonder where he can have gotten them -- or rather you would wonder, if the excitement of being in his presence left you time to think of such things.

For he is in a inspired man. Every inch of him is inspired -- you might almost say inspired separately. He stamps with his feet, he tosses his head, he sways and swings to and fro; he has a wizened-up little face, irresistibly comical; and, when he executes a turn or a flourish, his brows knit and his lips work and his eyelids wink -- the very ends of his necktie bristle out. And every now and then he turns upon his companions, nodding, signaling, beckoning frantically -- with every inch of him appealing, imploring, in behalf of the muses and their call.

For they are hardly worth of Tamoszius, the other two members of the orchestra. The second violin is a Slovak, a tall, gaunt man with black-rimmed spectacles and the mute and patient look of an over-driven mule; he responds to the whip but feebly, and then always falls back into his old rut. The third man is very fat, with a round, red, sentimental nose, and he plays with his eyes turned up to the sky and a look of infinite yearning. He is playing a bass part upon his 'cello, and so the excitement is nothing to him; no matter what happens in the treble, it is his task to saw out one long-drawn and lugubrious note after another, from four o'clock in the afternoon until nearly the same hour next morning, for his third of the total income of one dollar per hour.

Before the feast has been five minutes underway, Tamoszius has risen in his excitement; a minute or two more and you see that he is beginning to edge over toward the tables. His nostrils are dilated and his breath comes fast -- his demons are driving him. ...

Now he is in his glory, dominating the scene. Some of the people are eating, some are laughing and talking -- but you will make a great mistake if you think there is one of them who does not hear him. His notes are never true, and his fiddle buzzes on the low ones and squeaks and scratches on the high; but these things they heed no more than they heed the dirt and noise and squalor about them -- it is out of this material that they have to build their lives, and with it that they have to utter their souls. And this is their utterance: merry and boisterous, or mournful and wailing, or passionate and rebellious, this music is their music, music of home. It stretches out its arms to them, they have only to give themselves up.

Awe Inspiring

Mass, A Theatre Piece for Singers, Players and Dancers, by Leonard Bernstein, composed in 1971, for the opening of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts was performed last night (and tonight) by the Minnesota Orchestra.

Awe inspiring is the only word. With regards to many of the different aspects of the production, not only the written music score. The show included: the full Minnesota Orchestra, the Minnesota Chorale, the Minnesota Boys Choir, the James Sewell Ballet, and a couple dozen other singers & soloists. It was huge. One reason it's rarely performed.

As you’d think from the name, it’s either a reflection on physical nature of matter or the Roman Catholic Sacramental Celebration. It was superficially odd that a modern Jew would write something traditionally see as Catholic ‘classical’ music. Well received or not, the content would be much more accessible to those already interested in classical music, rather than using a Jewish holy ceremony. Bernstein obviously considered it an appropriate framework for the razor-sharp commentary. And commentary it was: social and religious. ‘Religious’ not in the sense of theology, but in the sense of how we view & practice that theology.

Surrounding the music physically as well as musically, with the Orchestra sitting center stage, are the supporting cast. The choir provides the traditional vocal support for the different parts of the mass, mostly in Latin.** The boys choir comes in as altar boys occasionally to support the adult choir. The ballet troupe provides further non-verbal reflection on the text. And, finally the other singers provide the main commentary as a congregation and a priest.

The whole shebang starts out joyous, happy, enthusiastic. The Kyrie [a prayer for mercy] begins, focusing our attention. The priest wears jeans & a button-down shirt, no priest-collar, no priest-outfit. He’s young and enthusiastic, encouraging. The congregation enters, themselves attending Mass, and are equally involved in the service. Things go down hill from there.

The ‘commentary’ gets less joyful and more critical, as the priest dons more and more of the traditional vestments (though I don't understand the color choice of starting with Easter's all white vs. the normal white & green). During the Confitior [confession], one doesn’t hear the words of the priest and congregation, just the image. (Appropriately, as one oughtn’t hear them) Half way through, one of the men who seems rather disinterested in the whole to-do, starts singing ‘what I feel I don’t say / what I say I don’t mean / what I mean I don’t show / what I show I don’t know ... What I need I don't have / What I have I don't own / What I own I don't want / What I want, Lord, I don't know”. Others join individually, variously sorrowful, angry, resentful. Here begins the disconnection between what we as Christians (or whomever) are supposed to say-do-believe and ... well, between that and reality.

Observations continue between what the Church itself teaches and how Society bends those teachings to its own ends: "God made us the boss / God gave us the cross / We turned it into a sword / To spread the word of the Lord / We use His holy decrees / To do whatever we please / And it was goddam good! "

The epistles were interspersed with reading letters demonstrating the currency of St. Paul's sentiments. At the Consecration [blessing the bread & wine], the priest has also succumbed to the crisis of faith following his congregation's ennui of faith. He prays and cries and screams to a sleeping crowd. I'm uncertain if sleeping was supposed to indicate a total disinterest in events, or if it was reminiscent of the gospels. In the prayer during a regular Mass, the priest raises the bread saying "take this bread & eat of it, this is my body which will be given up for you." The words are from the Last Supper, and what happens after that disastrous dinner party? The apostles all take a nap, leaving Christ to His crisis of faith in the Garden of Gethsemane. Of course, none of the gospels paint the Son of God ranting and railing.

Commentary from the premier ranged from “the most, best, greatest, ultimate ... yada yada yada’ to “And there were those, especially among the youthful members of the audiences, who screamed and applauded and cheered and cried and said that it was the most beautiful thing that they had ever heard. ... It is a pseudo-serious effort at rethinking the Mass that basically is, I think, cheap and vulgar. It is a show-biz Mass, the work of a musician who desperately wants to be with it.” -- NYT critic on the premier in ’71.

The counterpoint between the ‘congregation’ and the formal prayers was elegant, subtle, and at times oh so poignant.

This was my first visit to Orchestra Hall. It won’t be the last. It’s hard to tell how good the acoustics are with so many different things going on at the same time. This also made it difficult at times to understand the text with a choir, singers & orchestra & soloist all together. [ed: I listened to the broadcast tonight; with the mics right above the stage, there were parts I could hear much more clearly than in the concert hall.] Though, like opera, one could at least keep track of the general idea from the actors/dancers. The Orchestra is amazing. I’m so unqualified to critique dancers beyond “wow, that’s amazing”, but the choreography was as elegant a depiction as the words. Based upon the thundering applause from the audience, my opinion was assuredly shared. The biggest booms were offered for the lead boy soprano, who gave - @ 8 yr old - a stunning performance and the Priest.

If you’re interested, Minnesota Public Radio is broadcasting this tonight @ 8 p.m. CST. also on-line: right-hand side column as the ‘listen live” link, or with the “classical” tab in the upper-right corner of their homepage, or of course, if you’re in MN, 99.5 FM in the Twin Cities. I’m pretty sure I’m going to tune in after the boys go to bed.

See Mr. STFU&GBTW’s story about his buddy flying back to the States, then ... I’m standing at our seats after the very long applause, chatting with my friend The Author. I see someone who looks vaguely familiar. The brain starts a database search ‘identity=?’ The only reason I even came up with this potential answer is the fact we’re in Minnesota. Me: “That looks like Walter Mondale”; Author: “That is Walter Mondale”.

** if you see a music performance called a “Mass”, e.g. Mozart’s Requiem Mass, it is a collection of the music & (often) prayers set to music, which have been written to be used in a Roman Catholic Mass. There can be many different prayers or prayer settings use, so there isn’t really a ‘standard’ group of music in these.

The Ghost of Inaugurations Past

Inauguration is always in January, in the midst of the heart of Winter. Is this a method to ensure the true enthusiasm to view the peaceful transition of power?

I was in D.C. for Regan’s 2nd Inauguration, a remarkable visit. The West Virginia University Mountaineer Marching Band arrived as the state’s representative for the parade. We got permission to miss the first day of classes, hopped on 8 charter buses, and headed for the 4-ish hour trip from Morgantown to the nation’s capitol. We (all 300 of us) thought it was pretty cool to get invited for such an event, regardless of our political opinions. ’84 was the first time I had voted (even if it wasn’t for him).

We got into town, settled in and got the news that the parade was canceled. Damn! We were told the Wind Chill down Pennsylvania Avenue was 45 below zero. West Virginia does get Winter, but it definitely does not get Minnesota weather; no one would have even had warm enough longjohns for that long of a stint outdoors in those temperatures.

We watched the evening news, thinking “well, at least we’ll get to see a bit of the city.” We then heard it was so cold back in Morgantown that classes were cancelled. This gave us a good laugh at our fellow musicians who refused to miss one day of classes, who should have hollered “carpe diem!” and come with us.

The story ‘parade canceled’ hit the news. The scene switched to a gymnasium full of a high school band from Iowa (or Idaho?) in tears. These kids were absolutely, totally devastated. A few girls were sobbing in each other’s arms. Our initial thoughts were “give me a break, it’s not that bad!”

The journalist went on ... these kids were from a small high school, had gone through cut-throat competition to be selected, had spent several years worth of efforts with bake sales, band boosters, and events scrimping up money to go. They were sleeping in a gym; lord alone knows where they’d been sleeping en route. They had sat ~ holy god have mercy ~ on yellow school buses for three days just to get to Washington. To be told “sorry, we don’t need you, you can go home now”.

We looked at each other rather shame-faced, looking around our warm hotel rooms, clearly remembering the charter buses we’d ridden, all of which was paid for by the University’s Band budget invited because one of the Inauguration Committee members was a WVU fan. We felt so sorry for those kids.

Later in the evening, our director sent out a call for opinions: the committee was going to invite a few of the bands to perform indoors for the President, would we want to do so? Without hesitation, everyone I was close to said, “Hell, no!” We all emphatically recommended they track down the kids from the news and make sure they got to play.

One Inauguration Day, we took the now-free time, sent the buses around to a few different sites, did a little sight-seeing, and then headed back to Morgantown. It was so cold, the shutter mechanism in my old Canon FTb kept freezing shut; I got great pictures of Arlington National Cemetery. I never knew if those poor kids from the Midwest got to play for the President or not.

I hope so.

Apocalypse Pooh

far more artistic merit than the Rammstein Pooh ...




at least Jr.Gopher#1 has stopped asking me for train-crash videos and just sticks to wanting to see Pooh. Needless to say, this isn't one of them.