Classical Music, Poetry and stuff

[robertlouis]

As a number of us have effectively hijacked a thread over on the Review Section to talk about classical music and one on this section became clogged up with poetry, perhaps it's time for the dilettante faction to confine themselves to a specific place.

Right, for starters: Beethoven, influenced by tgirls or not?

[Birgitta]

Hi, can anyone perhaps recommand me some early music with the recorder, i love the recorder....i am listening to french baroque now 1700-1740, blavet, hottetere, couperin

[Stavros]

Not Beethoven, but Schubert. There was a spirited exchange in the journal Nineteenth Century Music about Schubert's alleged homosexuality. Maynard Soloman, the biographer who has tended to 'modernise' our views of composers like Beethoven and Mozart by getting away from the wigs and hose, suggested that Schubert had sexual relations with transvestite prostitutes in Vienna -the codeword was 'the peacocks of Benvenuto Cellini' -a reference to a segment of the Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini in which the author describes an evening he organised where the women were men, and which so entranced the men who attended, and enraged the local whores they laid siege to the building.

Anyway, these are the references:
Maynard Soloman, 'Franz Schubert and The Peacocks of Benvenuto Cellini', Nineteenth Century Music Vol XII, no 3 (1989) 193-206.

Rita Steblin, 'The Peacock's Tale: Schubert's Sexuality Reconsidered', Nineteenth Century Music Vol XVII, no 1(1993) 5-33.

Maynard Solomon, 'Schubert: Some Consequences of Nostalgia', Nineteenth Century Music Vol XVII, no 1(1993) 34-56.

Susan McClary, 'Music and Sexuality: On the Steblin/Solomon Debate, Nineteenth Century Music Vol XVII, no 1(1993) 83-88.

Transvestism or cross-dressing in opera has been common for centuries -it may have begun with the Castrato in early opera, it certainly existed in the operas of Mozart, and particularly Richard Strauss where male characters are sung by women -in Strauss's case it may have been his obsession with the female voice (his wife was a singer). For some reason it rarely encourages 'gender confusion', his skill being so adept it seems natural to see two women -one dressed as a man- rolling around on a bed at the opening of Der Rosenkavalier...

[robertlouis]

Hi, can anyone perhaps recommand me some early music with the recorder, i love the recorder....i am listening to french baroque now 1700-1740, blavet, hottetere, couperin

Try getting up at 4am to practise, Brigitta. That should be early enough.

[Stavros]

Hi, can anyone perhaps recommand me some early music with the recorder, i love the recorder....i am listening to french baroque now 1700-1740, blavet, hottetere, couperin

The Dutch have been producing exceptional early music artists for years -here is Franz Bruggen, playing a recorder with his legs crossed!

[Prospero]

Recorders - Birgitta. You might find this interesting.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/toms...breathednewlif

[iamdrgonzo]

My favorite wordsmith:


Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven

First published in 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

[Prospero]

Wonderful poem - thanks for reminding us it it Dr Gonzo

[iamdrgonzo]

Wonderful poem - thanks for reminding us it it Dr Gonzo

It was the rap, rap, rapping, the tapping, I could no longer ignore, upon my chamber door, so I pondered I would post as way of a toast, The Raven for Lenore once and evermore.

[Birgitta]

Recorders - Birgitta. You might find this interesting.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/toms...breathednewlif

Thaaaaanks sweety!

The raven is cool, have you heard the black cat spoken by diamanda galas, its greeeeeaaaat