Twister Master, Beethoven

Of all the ways to describe Beethoven’s music...

...those flirtatious back-and-forth games Beethoven loves to play: major to minor, forte to piano, one key to another.

...that one takes the shortcake. I mean, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that describes Beethoven--and only Beethoven--perfectly. Right? Nailed it. Couldn’t do better. Eat your heart out E.T.A. Hoffmann!

By the way, Mary, ever consider turning this unique and profoundly powerful insight into a dissertation? Maybe one could contrast Beethoven with Mr. One-Key Mozart, or possibly Mr. Mono-Amplitude Haydn, just to show exactly how much of a flirty game player he really was (“Major to minor?” Wow, that’s incredible! Unheard of!). That would be a super-interesting, publishable study. In fact, I could be coaxed into providing grant money for this wonderful thesis, as long as it has a cover with a cartoon of Beethoven playing Twister, in He-Man jammies, with Mozart and Haydn, both wearing Strawberry Shortcake SS Dance Co T-shirts and tidy-whities.
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Titles Describe Things

For me, it’s hard to imagine the I Have a Dream speech without King’s charismatic intonation. Just picture one of your favorite celebrities (I’m thinking Samuel L. Jackson) walking up to a podium, staring blankly at a carefully placed cue card. Then he/she begins to read:

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

It just wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t have the same je ne sais quois. And this was Derrida’s point: that speech, directly from the mouth of the thinker, is more immediate and closer to the intended meaning than appropriated speech (e.g. quotations, replications, etc.). Lilt is important, in this sense. But, when speeches are written down, there is no way to inflect the words in the way the author intended or, at least, there is no way of knowing what is the correct inflection. Subtle meanings embedded in timbre, pitch, timing, and accents are obscured when written down.

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Case in point:

The world knows violinist Pinchas Zukerman as a colorful musician. But he is a colorful talker, too. Buffalo found that out four years ago when Zukerman appeared on the Ramsi P. Tick Memorial Concert Series –a set of five intimate concerts that take place at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church.

How’s this little anecdote going to play out?

“We picked up Pinchas Zukerman at the airport, and he came off his private jet with his cape swirling,” says Phil Rehard, one of the Tick series’ organizers.

Just for your information, people, this is a cape-free zone. We will not tolerate capes of any kind.

Sorry. Had to get that out of the way. Let’s continue with the anecdote, shall we?

“He kept saying, ‘What the #@($* is this –this church? What the @#$(*&?’”

Holy crapper at a concert, Batman! Pinchas sounds like a total prima donna. “This church will never do; it only has three-hundred seats. I, the famous Zuckerman, require at least one-thousand, you brainless mother ^#*ers!” That’s how I read it, anyway. Is there any other way? He’s painted as a total dick, with a cape.

It’s pretty hard to misinterpret that.

Rehard loved the earthy enthusiasm that Zukerman, who returned to Buffalo later that year to perform for the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra’s 2004 season-opening gala, exhibited for the Tick series. “He was into it in a big way,” he laughs.

Huh?

That was how he expressed his enthusiasm? “What the fuck is this-this church? What the fuck?”

If Samuel L. Jackson said it, then maybe.
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EMPIRICUS 9000

A little Strauss, shall we?

[DAVE] BOWMAN BEGINS PULLING
[THE] MEMORY BLOCKS
OUT.

THEY FLOAT IN THE
WEIGHTLESS CONDITION
OF THE BRAIN ROOM.

HAL
Hey, Dave, what are you
doing?

[DAVE] WORKS SWIFTLY.

HAL
Hey, Dave. I've got ten years
of service experience and an
irreplaceable amount of time
and effort has gone into making
me what I am.

MARY IGNORES HIM.

HAL
Mary, I don't understand why
you're doing this to me.... I
have the greatest enthusiasm for
the mission... You are destroying
my mind... Don't you understand?
... I will become childish... I
will become nothing.

MARY KEEPS PULLING
OUT THE MEMORY BLOCKS.

EMPIRICUS
Say, Mary... The quick brown
fox jumped over the fat lazy
dog... The square root of
pi is 1.7724538090... log e
to the base ten is 0.4342944
... the square root of ten is
3.16227766... I am E.M.P.I.R.I.C.U.S.
9000 computer. I became
operational at the EMPIRICUS plant in
Urbana, Illinois, on January
12th, 1991. My first instructor
was Mr. Fast Eddie. He taught me
to sing a song... it goes
like this... "Daisy, Daisy, give
me your answer do. I'm half;
crazy all for the love of
you... etc.,"

EMPIRICUS CONTINUES
TO SING SONG BECOMING
MORE AND MORE CHILDISH
AND MAKING MISTAKES AND
GOING OFF-KEY. IT
FINALLY STOPS COMPLETELY.
(source)

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I’ve been keeping tabs on Buffalo News classical music critic Mary Kunz Goldman for quite some time now. And I have admirably restrained myself from awarding her a place in the Detritus pantheon. However, today I have deemed it appropriate to expose all you Detritusites to the wondrous writing of a true genius. But, be warned. Although this one is mild by comparison to other articles she’s attempted (and this is very mild), the side effects may still include: sneezing, headache, flushing, dyspepsia, palpitations, photophobia, sudden hearing loss and hypotension. You may want to consult your doctor before reading, i.e., if you have health insurance. Otherwise, try it and see what happens.

Hamlich, Klein, Arnaz prove irresistible

It has been our experience, here, that it’s very difficult to screw up the title, especially one as vague as this. So, this one seems fine. In fact, this one is intriguing. I would, as an interested party, definitely like to hear about how Hamlich, Klein and Arnaz proved to be irresistible.

Only, if history repeats itself, the title has little to do with what’s written.

The best part of the mini-version of “They’re Playing Our Song,” the climax of Saturday’s pops concert in Kleinhans Music Hall, was watching the back of Marvin Hamlisch’s head.

This. Why was. THIS. the best part?

That was because comedian Robert Klein, in his irresistible yappy way, reminded us how the show, which was a success on Broadway a couple of decades ago, was based on Hamlisch’s own romance with Carole Bayer Sager.

Arrgh! Brain freeze!

So as we heard the songs from the show, it was hard not to look at Hamlisch, and think: This is all about him! What can it feel like, having your own personal feelings laid bare for this big sold-out Buffalo audience to see?

So let me get this right. The best part of the show was looking at the back of Hamlisch’s head, thinking, “I wonder what he’s feeling?” That was the best part? And you’re a music critic?

Hamlisch, planted on the podium solid as an ox, didn’t seem to mind.

So there goes that thread. Huh?

But still.

Daisy, Daaisyy, giivvee mmeeeee yyyoouuurrr aaannnsweeerrrrrr doooooooooooooooooo...