roses from the south
Strauss has been running through my brain lately. We had a tragic near-Strauss experience, missing Rosenkavalier by only a couple of hours on our first real day here. Drat! With or without Richard, though, Johann would no doubt have been dominating us. (Incidentally, Johann Sr and Johann Jr are both infinitely more hummable than Richard: just try humming the waltz from Rosenkavalier without any help. Can't do it, can you? I get a few ba-dee-deeee, ba-de-deeeees in there, and I'm completely stranded. Face it. Richard is great for monumental space odysseys — everyone can hum him there — but he's no good on the dance floor.)
The other day, I cranked up Roses from the South on our iPod as a Viennese aubade, blaring tinnily from our headphones. I know every note of it like an old dance partner. Catherine, having grown up in a classical family (it was years before she realized with a shock, at a friend's house, that not all parents listen to exclusively classical music and that, therefore, pop isn't only for kids), knows most of its themes as well.
When Jeff Walker and I were college roommates, he was raiding my music collection, as roommates do, when he saw something labelled "Party Music." He was amused, but not at all surprised, to hear ninety minutes of waltzes, polkas, and quadrilles, from great old records like Arthur Fiedler's Champagne, Roses, and Bonbons (sadly unreleased on CD). To me, that music is the music of partying. Some of my earliest memories of social events in my childhood home are of tree-tall grownups, glamorously dressed and perfumed — my own parents transfigured — chatting and clinking to those very pieces of music.
The other day, I cranked up Roses from the South on our iPod as a Viennese aubade, blaring tinnily from our headphones. I know every note of it like an old dance partner. Catherine, having grown up in a classical family (it was years before she realized with a shock, at a friend's house, that not all parents listen to exclusively classical music and that, therefore, pop isn't only for kids), knows most of its themes as well.
When Jeff Walker and I were college roommates, he was raiding my music collection, as roommates do, when he saw something labelled "Party Music." He was amused, but not at all surprised, to hear ninety minutes of waltzes, polkas, and quadrilles, from great old records like Arthur Fiedler's Champagne, Roses, and Bonbons (sadly unreleased on CD). To me, that music is the music of partying. Some of my earliest memories of social events in my childhood home are of tree-tall grownups, glamorously dressed and perfumed — my own parents transfigured — chatting and clinking to those very pieces of music.
Comments