Tonight, I'm typing to the dulcet tones of Beethoven's 7th. It's been a beautiful day with sunny weather, coffee with BabySis and being bombed by pecan nuts from her laden tree. Watching kids in their pyjamas at 3 in the afternoon creating games in a river oak in her front yard. Chasing about 20 ducks who seem to think my swimming pool is a sanctuary. But now, I am in awe. I love this music. Remember watching Torvill and Dean skating to Ravel's Bolero . . it was ground breaking and beautiful and I just wanted to be her all fragile and passionate at the same time.
I gave my kids every opportunity . . . from tennis lessons to trumpet . . Piano to ponys . . .Only Adam has pursued a musical career and to this day I don't know how drummer's get their 'dumb' reputation. You try making four limbs act independently and come up with some sort of rhythm. He's good, very good but doesn't make music that gives you the "Oh my God, I'm going to cry . ."feeling. Oddly bagpipes and native American drums do that to me and Elton John's Circle of Life . . and Phantom's "Say You Love Me" . I have no idea why . .something to do with discordant chords.
I am no aficionado of classical music, although the Sydney Opera House makes almost anything sound wonderful and January's Symphony in the Domain is always well worth a visit. I once fell asleep listening to Mahler and after sitting through the entirety of Handel's Messiah realised that the Hallelujah Chorus is the only decent bit . . it's repetitive ad nauseum but Beethoven's 7th - Sad, beautifully constructed (thanks to the documentary notations of Richard Gill, Sydney Symphony's resident conductor who explained it's structure) and written by a man who never heard more than the high notes. He was the punk of his time. An outsider, out there, different, arrogant and one who many thought should have been sent to the Asylum. (I just think they were jealous . .hey Tchaikovsky was not appreciated any more than Abba until after his death.)
I have never peeled Sunday roast veggies to a nicer soundtrack . . I think it might be my funeral music . . unless I choose . . .Wheels on Fire . . .Burn Baby Burn . . Disco Inferno or Don't Leave Me This Way . . or some other inappropriate exit.
I would have liked to post Richard's version but embedded code was withheld. So here's some foreigner conducting our mob of musos. I also have a a great fondness for Moonlight Sonata which my mother played admirably on a Baby Grand, still sitting dormant in her living room. Kiddies, if your mother says play the piano . . play the fucking piano!