Music

Talking about, or writing about music, any kind of music is most difficult. That might be part of the appeal of music in the present day in which we are damn near driven mad by talk talk talk talk talk talk talk.

I apologize in advance for not having energy (or computer skills) enough to include music clips in this entry. For example I'd so dearly love to include the couple of minutes of The Chorale by Beethoven, in movement #3, which caused my wife the other day to gasp when she heard it and say, "My my that's pretty...". Usually I snap off the classical music when she gets in the car because it's not really her fav.

Disney Hall, (Music Center) in Los Angeles, situated on perhaps the highest hill in the heart of downtown LA, looks like a gigantic, majestic confection of very shiny curved steel. Oh! the expense! Does anyone pretend those myriad curved shapes add to the acoustic perfection of the ediface? No, no such claim is made, at least I've never heard or read any such claim. To me the amusing superfluity of steel glitter suggests our spirits can soar if we'll simply listen, and listen with, and without, the crutch of words.

Here's a suggestion that the steel is working. The other day a film company half blocked First and Grand for about a week. Off duty cops had been hired to govern the traffic. I hope and pray it wasn't just for the protection of the makers of some crummy TV Commercial, but instead a drama that might enrich our lives. We pass Disney Hall quite often because it happens to be on the most direct route to TV Cafe on Alameda, a 24 hour joint I've frequented for twenty or so years. 

The other day I found embedded in the inside rear of our vehicle a loudspeaker I didn't know was there. I found it while getting something out of the back while the music was playing. Was I surprsed! And felt sheepish: where did I think the unusually good surround sound came from?! I mention that because I've never before been so addicted to listening to music while driving.

Here's a car music anecdote. The other day while waiting for my wife at a parking meter - she was at a LONG appointment - I took a rest from Beethoven and listened to my favorite Juan Gabriel song, a Mexican singer so popular in LA that his likeness, fifty feet high, decorates the side of a building on Western facing a parking lot in front of a laundromat. The latter, and the side of the other building are Korean-owned. Only in multi-ethnic LA.

The song of Gabriel, male, I love ("Un fie"??!) is about the singer's sad goodbye to a woman he cannot love but who is desperately in love with him. Oh he is so so so solicitous, and so loves saying such a long sad goodbye, as if goodbye was his life's purpose. While I was waiting at the parking meter for my wife several Hispanic, attractive women looked into my vehicle apparently curious to observe who was listening to (perhaps) THEIR song. If I'd been listening to Beethoven the women passing by would look dead straight ahead totally indifferent. What Gringo (non-hispanic) song or singer warbles happily, or even unhappily, about his NOT loving someone? Did Elton John ever carress the message that he can't love someone or another?! I don't think so. Conclusion: In hispanic culture men still rule, and rule with a cruel and demanding total subjugation of women.

On Monday I plan to call the LA Philharmonic and ask them if performing Beethoven's Ninth is on their upcoming schedule? I've never heard it live. I want to go with all six of us. Skipping a few visits to TV Cafe might pay for the luxury. 'Ode to Joy' sure is worth listenng to. And, everybody wins!

Barry