I've just been notified by (God, I guess or whoever it is that does these things to this site) that I now have "Automatic Saving"
This latest improvement seems to make it impossible to save posts.
Let's hope that I can still post stuff.
O.K. apparently it still works good enough.
Friday we went to the composers salon. It was at a different place because it was an all percussion show and that little soundbridge place couldn't handle it.
Unfortunately, it's not a permanent change, so I'm still out of a place to go for that sort of thing.
Anyway, the music was fascinating, it always amazes me how much can be done with percussion. Commonly, percussion in popular music is just one pace keeping beat that holds the song together. At the University Street fair there were examples of this on every corner. The pieces played at the salon were all good and all different. The one I liked best was for two drumsets and lasted 45 min. and was never boring.
The salon was held at the Good Shepard center in Wallingford. It is a very nice space and would make a much better venue for the salon. Apart from the fact that I haven't been kicked out yet, it is large enough for a small chamber orchestra and the acoustics are good. All I'd need is my own chamber orchestra, something I could afford if had the courage. Or knew how to go about it.
Saturday we went to the aforementioned street fair, the usual stuff of all street fairs some decent bands, cajun, bar bands (see above, boring back beat section)
funky singers, naive politics, infra dig philosophies, and kooky religious activism.
It's been a while, but I still enjoy looking the place over and mingling with the crowd, at least untill it gets too crowded to move.
Saturday night meant the opera. La Boheme by Puccini. Nice tear-jerking music, but a stupid story. Most operae have stupid stories. The local free paper "The Stranger" had the following comment "Rich people just like to watch poor people die"
Which explains war, doesn't it?
The story is based on "Notre Dame aux Camilles" by Dumas (pere ou fils, I don't remember) about a girl who dies of "consumption" (pneumonia, I believe) before the evils of modern medicine.
Anyway, some dufus "falls in love" (whatever that means. Apparently it doesn't mean spending money on medicine rather than champagne untill it's conviently too late.) with her and it's all one heart wrenching tragedy after that.
The appeal is that this "love" fantasy is kept pure by nipping it in the bud or something.
I guess that having her die avoids the possibility of having to live with her forever.
More actually, it seems to me that entirely too many dramatic works , whether novels, movies, plays, oprae, etc, are dependant on killing some hapless woman.
Wouldn't it be better to find some way of firing our endorphens with a more kindly sort of story. It's just as unlikely and unrealistic a thing.
Actually, there are too many logical inconsistancies for me to be able to stay with the "plot" of LaB. Of course, there is some nasal congestion when she dies but that's largely because of the music. Can you imagine wht the world would sound like if every emotional event in the world was accompanied by the appropriate music?
One benefit would be that you would know beforehand how others were feeling before you took a wild guess as to how to approach.
On the other hand, however there would be soooo much bloody noise all the time that life would resemble a hell that neither Dante nor the pope could ever imagine.
although, I imagine Jerry Falwell should be getting an education in that regard right about now (and forever)
I'm thinking about an opera about the discovery of penicillin. The lonely scientist working away in his Parisian garret finally achieving success after many trials and much mockery only to be suppressed by the dramatists of the world and dieing, ironically by his accidental creation of AIDS or something like.
There seemed to be an awful lot of French flag waving in the performance. perhaps this is something that homeland security ought to look into.
At the first intermission, just as I was about to tell my wife how much I was impressed by the Tenor, she started listing all his faults, non of which I had noticed. Later after the show, when aforementioned singer got the loudest round of applause, I realised that audiences can be just as wrong about things as I.
Other than that, I'm feeling depressed by being reminded, by being allowed to attend a salon, of my status here as a second class citizen.
As I've said before, if all this nonsense is a message from God, let him put it in plain English.
If English is good enough for Jesus it should be good enough for God.
Labels: God, Jesus, Speight Jenkins