All by itself, independent of how it comes about, exquisite taste is neither good nor bad. In my opinion, some things are worthy of cultivation and some seem like a foolish joke. Some exquisite taste just happens without cultivation and it is hard to condemn it, however trite it may be.

Young French children drink wine as American children drink milk. I doubt that American children can develop a preference for one brand of milk over another but I suppose French children can readily tell the difference among Bordeaux and Chardonnays, and perhaps they are encouraged to do so. So be it; and not much more can be said about that, however worthy or unworthy wine flavors may be.

As it happens, my father, being in the food business, brought home sturgeon, nova scotia lox and swiss cheese every Saturday. Before I was four years old, I could appreciate many differences. I could tell (if my memory is right, but I don’t guarantee it) whether cheese was aged six months or not at all. I think I can still tell differences. I regard this ability of mine as frivolous and wouldn’t mind at all if it evaporated suddenly.

I am dismayed when I think how many thousands of people take classes in wine tasting. It may be, for all I know, possible to make very discriminating distinctions between types of wine and, within types, brands. Even the ability to recognize the number of years a wine sits in an aging cask may be possible. My feeling, not shared by many, I suppose, is that this ability is DISGUSTING, mainly because it has to be worked at and it concerns a matter not worthy of anybody’s time and efforts and too often it is cultivated for despicable reasons, and you can guess what those are.

I don’t feel this way about music. It is a fact that some people with a natural passion for what I will haughtily call “great music” proceed to work hard at developing an exquisite taste for distinctions. Let them. I don’t think it is praiseworthy but neither is it cheap and vulgar. It does seem to me to be self-defeating. I have heard live performances of great music that for some of my companions misses the mark. Only a small percentage of concert goers can tell a fine performance by a great conductor from a somewhat lackadaisical performance by a somewhat less than great conductor. It strikes me that people with this exquisite ability are losing out if they cannot appreciate anything but the very best. For many years I used to listen to Sviatoslav Richter’s best performances of Beethoven’s Appassionata Piano Sonata, insanely bent on developing expertise in Richter’s style. Today, I wonder why. I will give you links to Richter and to one other professional performer and one amateur, and you can judge for yourself whether knowing the differences are worth a damn.

So my advice is this: Enjoy your cheese and don’t check the label to see how long it has been aged, enjoy your $10 wine and don’t make a move to the $20 variety. Go listen to music and don’t criticize if you can help avoiding that.

Life is short; eat cookies.

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Richter – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZ2J1eFM-Rs

Claudio Arrau - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tdg-DT8rTUQ

Amateur performance – 1st movement only. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2edfqJnb8w

Ezra Pound set the precedent. Widely regarded as the best of the best, so far as poetry is concerned, Pound received big bucks when he was awarded the Bollingen Prize. This set up a great furor because Pound had advanced from fascist follower of Mussolini to rabid supporter of Hitler and nazism. Many of the literati questioned his getting a prize, as if to honor his viciousness.

Can one separate the artist from the man? In my opinion, one can and one must…if the circumstances are right. They weren’t in the case of Pound because he was alive and able to enjoy the fruits of his villainy. Why give him money, as if to endorse his outrageous principles? The Prize could have been awarded to someone else who, if he was mature enough, would have accepted it with grace and not objected to this inscription: To the person judged by the Awards Committee to be the 2nd best poet in the world. In time, Pound was locked away in an asylum for the criminally insane for acts of treason. He was ruled permanently and incurably insane but even crazier people supported him to the end: Hemingway, and T.S. Eliot. For them, genius conquers all.

Like hell genius does, according to the folks in Israel. We are only a couple weeks short of Tricky Dick Wagner’s 200th birthday, his double centenary, so to speak, and rabid fans are getting ready to honor him but NOT in Israel. Unlike the case with Pound, I think honoring him is a fine idea. (1) My view is that after 200 years have passed, we should give up the hatred. Enough is enough. Endless hatred is stupid. (2) Wagner profits nothing from our playing his music. He gets no royalties if we play his compositions and his descendants, if any, get nothing either. All that happens is that by not playing his music, we deprive ourselves of some of the greatest music ever written. Yet the Israelis, pushed on by their insane “We must never forget” mantra, won’t give it up. There will be no concerts featuring Wagner music during the double centenary. His music will be taboo throughout the land. The tattooed-wrist Hebes will pretend they never heard of him.

Wagner was Hitler’s inspiration and to this I say, “Who in his right mind gives a flickendoodle?” Wagner takes no satisfaction or royalties in that. The Israelis do well to cut out the nonsense and buy some Wagner CDs. Why punish themselves? Go to some Wagner concerts. Have some fun. Even create a new award for him. Call it the BACH/BEETHOVEN PRIZE FOR UNPARALLELED GENIUS. Tricky Dick himself will not kvell with pleasure at being the first recipient.

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Eine kleine nacht musik mit Wagner:

Rienzi Overture. Once upon a time played on a clarinet by an Irish woman without a name who emerges from my bed most every morning.
Thirteen minutes of orgiastic delight. Play it loud and annoy the neighbors.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9CQXMNko8Q

Ain’t nuttin’ wrong wid dis, eeder. Ten glorious minutes. If you hear anti-Semitic strains in it, reserve a place for yourself on Freud’s couch.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOb2XsqYawk

But you have often heard “you ain’t heard anything yet until the fat lady sings,” and what singing this is!! Listen and don’t faint. She puts Beyonce, Whitney Houston and the rest of the gang to shame. AND YOU KNOW IT!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?list=RD02I6vtug-fTHc&NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=_mOA8pZ_I4M

This time, Birgit kicks up her heels and has a ball. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjZoI0WN898&list=RD02I6vtug-fTHc

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BONUS

The prima donna of all prima donnas singing in her native Romanian. She’ll be the first to admit she is the greatest singer who ever lived (or will live). The maddening this is that she may be right!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=FrgxnZbQ-nI

Here she is again, in a more serious mode. Hateful bitch! But can’t help loving her.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ul9OTShQ_rc

For some people, the music in this video is the thing. For most of us, I hope, it is an astonishing revelation of the way the world turns.

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=L7N6slVrQeY&vq=medium

I had a 36 hour pass and since I was stationed at Ft. Dix, New Jersey, it was a quick bus ride home. For some reason, instead of going to my actual home, I found myself in an apartment on Howard Avenue in the heart of Brownsville. Believe me, I have no idea why. Five guys were standing around naked. One stood on a small ottoman, playing the Mozart clarinet concerto while below him a young woman was sucking on his penis with real vigor. I remember it was causing him some difficulty hitting all the right notes, and he almost fell off. I knew only one of these five guys and that fellow was singing his own version of the famous Neapolitan street song, Funiculi, Funicula popularized by Mario Lanza. Only this guy was substituting the words “stinky finger, stinky finger.” Granted that in this company, I was out of my depth so I stood there amazed, (astounded and astonished, too) for ten minutes or so and then left. Someone called, “Don’t leave until you first have some hits of mary jane (marijuana). Politely I declined, as I always did and still do. The episode was short but the memory lingers on.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJd-SHzqUC4 If you can sing even a lick [pardon the expression in this context] you’ll know when you should jump in with the revised lyrics.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3EJqvKhYzY A half hour of your time well spent. That woman. What’s her name, who sleeps in my bed every night went to college on a full scholarship because she could play this damn thing like nobody’s business.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AB6U3rzcGkU

Many years ago – I cannot even venture a guess as to how long ago – a friend of mine put on a musical LP and challenged me to say what it was and who the composer was. If, per miracle, I knew, he would give me $5. It was the easiest $5 I ever made. The piece in question has often been hailed by professional musicians as the best example of pure jazz ever written. I wouldn’t know, but I do know $5 when it rests comfortably in my wallet.

The following remarkable video was sent to me by favorite vicious outlaw, Nick Medvecky. You will see that Nick and I are on the same wavelength. I hope you are with us. Oh, yes, the music is by Paul Desmond and is called TAKE FIVE.

http://portside.org/2013-04-20/brubecks-take-five-sitar-and-tabla

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Under the banner of Dave Brubeck, this became an award-winning number, played about 10 million times on youtube. Paul was chief arranger and alto sax player in the Brubeck band. It rightly became Brubeck’s signature piece. Watch and listen on youtube.

I once saw a girl named Maria. It was in the mid-1950s, and she danced. I have seen clips but, sad to say, I never saw her dance in flesh again. Enthralled though I was, I did not imagine I would never see her like again even into the 21st century. I write of MARIA TALLCHIEF, the great Maria Tallchief, the best American born and bred dancer ever. Maria was one of only two persons (to the best of my knowledge) privileged to call George Balanchine by his first name. The other being Lincoln Kirsten. When men like Mikhael Baryshnikov finally reach enough prominence they call him Mr. B – not a bad achievement.

Maria was born on an Indian reservation in Oklahoma as Marie Tall Chief in 1925. By 1942 she was America’s best and four years later she married the 42-year old legendary choreographer, Balanchine. Many of his best dances were created specifically for her and eventually she was the star of what was not yet called New York City Ballet. [In matters of art, you cannot meaningfully make measurable comparisons. How did she stack up against Margot Fonteyn, Natasha Marakova, Galina Ulanov, etc. Who knows and, realy, who cares?]

In 1980 she founded the Chicago City Ballet and 19 years later was honored with a National Medal of the Arts by the National endowment for the Arts. Her daughter says she was always very proud of her of her Osage Indian heritage.

Maria – 1925 to April, 2013.

(Died from a fall that broke her hip.) Now, then, watch her dance via this clip.

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1952 – Watch Maria and Esther Williams exchange saccharine sweet compliments. In full screen mode, please. And ladies, don’t break your back trying to imitate those steps she performs from 1.20 to 1.30.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGeYK-SSy8g

The song – Carreras singing – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ZPA8fwp7PE

I can’t remember much about the title sentence any longer, (I am not even sure I have it right), but I know it was Cassius trying to inveigle Brutus into his murderous plot. So is it with all of us. We want companionship in evil or just in our lack of understanding. How often have I heard people decrying the accomplishments of Shakespeare for no better reason than that they don’t like what he wrote. They may as well denounce lemon meringue pie because they prefer chocolate ice cream. In fact, with even less reason. There is not much to understand when it comes to food preference but surely we have some cause for puzzlement, perhaps disgust, with those who put down Shakespeare when all they mean is that for them Shakespeare’s work is simply another instance of what they dislike…the lemon meringue phenomenon.

The odd thing about this is the sense of entitlement that the denouncers feel. It is especially odd when you compare the slings and arrows outrageously hurled at writers but not at classical musicians. I don’t recall ever hearing someone say that the music of Beethoven or Bach is pure junk. Why do we hear laughing contempt for Shakespeare, Edmund Spenser, Chaucer and, incredibly enough, Dante, when the laughers haven’t read the latter in his language? When it comes to Bach or Beethoven, the supreme insult seems only to be, “This stuff is really boring” which is fair praise compared to “What awful junk,” the greeting Shakespeare, Spenser and Chaucer get. Fortunately for them, they are dead. In the language of James Joyce, they are now all shades. [Read Joyce’s short story, THE DEAD, or see John Huston’s marvelous movie transcription bearing the same title. (I have included a link to the final scene of the movie.)

In high school and again in college, I often felt unbearably embarrassed when I did not know something of the various arts that I thought all people should know but I was surrounded, and sometimes confronted, by classmates who wore their ignorance as a badge of honor. What could be better proof that you are one helluva good guy than that you dismiss Shakespeare? It is sometimes said that when you are deficient in something it is wonderful to be in the company of others like yourself. Ignorance, like misery, loves company.

I guess this is true but, in some areas of life, this is more prone to be true than in others. As a teenager, I did not know many kids who did not want to be good at basketball and other sports but the few I did know who were like that hung around with each other. It was comforting for them to know they were not alone. I suppose this is a psychological truth hardly worth noting. What is worth noting is that, when they become adults, whether they are part of a crowd or not, people think the feeling of deficiency has to be addressed, most easily by denying Cassius’s claim that the fault lies within ourselves. Belligerence is the weapon of choice — putting down Shakespeare and Lebron James rather than just ignoring them. This is perhaps one of the worst things about adulthood. We outgrow our lack of confidence. Well, we do outgrow it so far as Shakespeare is concerned; Beethoven will get his comeuppance, too, one of these days. I am sure of that.

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Here is the finale of Huston’s movie, THE DEAD. Watch it in full screen mode, if you can. About 4 and a half minutes long. Little doubt that there are people on this planet who won’t think much of it — “It is boring,” but I pray to all the gods I never meet them.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6FGIaWaQxA

Do not play this if you are afraid of your neighbor. LOUDLY!
Fear not. It comes with English subtext.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00YI0OlQQ6s For better appreciation, play this right after listening to your favorite rock ballad. It goes particularly well with Eleanor Rigby while munching on a reuben sandwich on rye bread.

O Fortuna
velut luna
statu variabilis,
semper crescis
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem,
egestatem,
potestatem
dissolvit ut glaciem.

Sors immanis
et inanis,
rota tu volubilis,
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis,
obumbrata
et velata
michi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris.

Sors salutis
et virtutis
michi nunc contraria,
est affectus
et defectus
semper in angaria.
Hac in hora
sine mora
corde pulsum tangite
quod per sortem
sternit fortem,
mecum omnes plangite!

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Heeere’s Ellie. AH, what a close call!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaRNrDaoMqw

The mailbag has been overflowing this month with letters from people who need to know. I know all the answers to all the questions, so let us begin, but I have time for only a short sample.

Request 1: Dear Master, why do you write “them that know” rather than “they who know”?
Master: Why indeed! Did your mother never tell you that “Y” is a crooked letter? Be gone! that is all the answer you need.
Request 2: Most Noble Sire, What is the meaning of life?
Master: Frunctulious.
Request 3: Your reverent Sir, How do I ensure that the mixture of gasoline and air in my carburetor is precisely what it should be?
Master: Look deep within your heart and you will see the answer as plain as the islets of langerhans on a clear day. Silly boy!
Request 4: Who is more deserving of great wealth, Lebron James or Bill Gates?
Master: You blew it. You did not address me with proper reverence. Be gone!
Request 4: Grandest of the Grand, Will they ever finish repairs on Bruckner Boulevard?
Master: Excellent question, for a nincompoop. All things are contingent, including the Bruckner Boulevard. For the specifics concerning the BB, I refer you to St. Thomas’s Summa Theologica. Go to the Third Part (Tertia Pars then, turn to “Penance as a sacrament.” (p 84) Combine what you learn there with the “Sanctification,” (p 27) and you may now induce, deduce, traduce and flappendoodleduce all that your measly, pathetic heart desires to know about the noble, stately, monumental Bruckner. And never darken my doorway again, you low grade CREEP.

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But wait! Just in case you are not a low grade creep, settle down for the next 2 hours and 55 minutes and listen to this performance of Wolfie’s DON GIOVANNI. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nV1yNgiEvIQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzwWskM4hN8

Who would have guessed that Petey, The Tchaik, wrote music for Hadassah?

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My thanks to several people who submitted this link independently of one another.

I don’t know if it is better when performed by professional dancers accompanied by a professional orchestra but here it is:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p30VTY_pGho