Noodling for 200 years
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/02/18/AR2010021806498.html
As many of you know/remember, I had the pleasure of working in a record store for many years. We had three differenct sound sytems in the building, and one was always playing classical music for that department. Now, for the most part, classical does little for me. Oh, it's okay, just not my cup of tea. That's probably a shame, because we had quite a few experts working in that department over the years, (some of you may well be reading this), and a person could probably get a first rate education in the classics just having sat around listening to the selections that were played. For me, it was just background. I didn't hate it, it just wasn't for me - with one exception. I absolutely hated Chopin and his endless piano noodlings. In fact, he's the only composer I have any opinion about at all. Until the louder and brasher forms of rap came along, his was the one (common) musical form I could stand the least. And we had one clerk who would play his irritating trilling on a regular basis. I'd retreat to the "rock room" and play the Clash or Neil Young as loud as possible to regain my sanity. One of my compatriots (a classical expert) one time entrered the room while it on the stereo and simply yelled out "It's Not Music", and walked out. I practically applauded.
Another time, a clerk there, (my dear departed friend, Charlotte), doubted the intensity of my feeling towards Freddie's noise. She knew of my complete ignorance of composers, etc. And set up a blind test, playing different but (to her) similiarly sounding works to see if I could pick out Chopin's from amongst them. But there was no fooling me, I'd know that swill anywhere, and to her utter amazement I was able to pick out the offending piece each time. The man is consistently irritating.
So happy birthday, Fred. You stink.
As many of you know/remember, I had the pleasure of working in a record store for many years. We had three differenct sound sytems in the building, and one was always playing classical music for that department. Now, for the most part, classical does little for me. Oh, it's okay, just not my cup of tea. That's probably a shame, because we had quite a few experts working in that department over the years, (some of you may well be reading this), and a person could probably get a first rate education in the classics just having sat around listening to the selections that were played. For me, it was just background. I didn't hate it, it just wasn't for me - with one exception. I absolutely hated Chopin and his endless piano noodlings. In fact, he's the only composer I have any opinion about at all. Until the louder and brasher forms of rap came along, his was the one (common) musical form I could stand the least. And we had one clerk who would play his irritating trilling on a regular basis. I'd retreat to the "rock room" and play the Clash or Neil Young as loud as possible to regain my sanity. One of my compatriots (a classical expert) one time entrered the room while it on the stereo and simply yelled out "It's Not Music", and walked out. I practically applauded.
Another time, a clerk there, (my dear departed friend, Charlotte), doubted the intensity of my feeling towards Freddie's noise. She knew of my complete ignorance of composers, etc. And set up a blind test, playing different but (to her) similiarly sounding works to see if I could pick out Chopin's from amongst them. But there was no fooling me, I'd know that swill anywhere, and to her utter amazement I was able to pick out the offending piece each time. The man is consistently irritating.
So happy birthday, Fred. You stink.
posted by mendip at
8:53 AM
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