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further voices
Apr. 19th, 2025 08:52 pmI realized I forgot to bring paper with me and also you will not believe how hard it was to actually find the post I made about Mahler's 2nd symphony last time so I could compare the notes from that lecture with this one. I remembered that it was Good Friday and since it was 2017, it was Good Friday under the exact same circumstances more or less. Maybe with a bit more sense of solidarity and a bit less sense of resignation and despair.
On May 18, 1911, Benjamin Zander's father learned that Mahler died. Someone told him that one day Mahler will be remembered as as great as Beethoven, Brahms, and Schubert. And now it is so. People came from all over the country and beyond. And trust me, this might actually be worth being spirited away to El Salvador to hear. Okay, maybe not. But it is worth hearing. Bring all you know and all you experience.
They even got Mahler's sole surviving descendant to introduce it. Even got her to go out of her way because she was supposed to be in London. She spoke with a sort of implacable but not impenetrable accent, the kind that one acquires from spending time in many different places, about its relevance in our time.
It was that era of, and I’m laughing as I wrote this, scientific racism. Laughing not because I delight in the cruelty or anything (If I did, I’d join DOGE) but laughing because there is absolutely nothing scientific about it.
Nowadays, it’s the gender critical movement. It’s all just philosophy masquerading as biology.
The first thing Mahler wrote was "funeral march and polka." Death was just part of life.
At the time he started this, he was working in Hamburg with Von Bulow, who went to hear him play and was uttermostly shocked out of his wits.
There's a story about Mahler asking the tympanist "louder" until the tympanist hit the drum so hard the skin broke and he asked if that was loud enough and Mahler said "almost."
People who knew Mahler played the third movement more slowly. In it, you can hear the grotesquerie, the squeals and glissandos. We're all just glorified sarcopterygii.
The end of the movement comes and when the singer sings Urlicht, it's one note higher.
Mahler came back to this after Von Bulow's funeral and had changed his style in the time.
It was cool and cloudy but not enough to need a coat. The day I posted this, it reached 83 for the first time this year. Above 70 for the first time this year and above 80 in April for the first time since 2023.
I'm not sure what Christina's artistic pursuits are but I do know that Madison plays cello, guitar, and piano and I totally made her day and she said it's like one of those things that you're always hearing about online and never actually happens to her.
She asked and I realized I can't remember when I started this sketchbook.
The kids on the train doing karaoke were emphatically not professional singers, and by that, I mean they made up for their lack of vocal abilities with loudness, which, no, isn’t how it’s supposed to work. I was hoping they’d get off at South Station or even JFK but nope, they stayed the entire way.
Also, someone spilled what I can only think is Skittlebrau, that is to say, a candy smell that was no doubt there to cover up something alcoholic.
burning question: what god put Robert Kennedy on this earth? Panglor, pangolin-headed god of disease and pangolins?
On May 18, 1911, Benjamin Zander's father learned that Mahler died. Someone told him that one day Mahler will be remembered as as great as Beethoven, Brahms, and Schubert. And now it is so. People came from all over the country and beyond. And trust me, this might actually be worth being spirited away to El Salvador to hear. Okay, maybe not. But it is worth hearing. Bring all you know and all you experience.
They even got Mahler's sole surviving descendant to introduce it. Even got her to go out of her way because she was supposed to be in London. She spoke with a sort of implacable but not impenetrable accent, the kind that one acquires from spending time in many different places, about its relevance in our time.
It was that era of, and I’m laughing as I wrote this, scientific racism. Laughing not because I delight in the cruelty or anything (If I did, I’d join DOGE) but laughing because there is absolutely nothing scientific about it.
Nowadays, it’s the gender critical movement. It’s all just philosophy masquerading as biology.
The first thing Mahler wrote was "funeral march and polka." Death was just part of life.
At the time he started this, he was working in Hamburg with Von Bulow, who went to hear him play and was uttermostly shocked out of his wits.
There's a story about Mahler asking the tympanist "louder" until the tympanist hit the drum so hard the skin broke and he asked if that was loud enough and Mahler said "almost."
People who knew Mahler played the third movement more slowly. In it, you can hear the grotesquerie, the squeals and glissandos. We're all just glorified sarcopterygii.
The end of the movement comes and when the singer sings Urlicht, it's one note higher.
Mahler came back to this after Von Bulow's funeral and had changed his style in the time.
It was cool and cloudy but not enough to need a coat. The day I posted this, it reached 83 for the first time this year. Above 70 for the first time this year and above 80 in April for the first time since 2023.
I'm not sure what Christina's artistic pursuits are but I do know that Madison plays cello, guitar, and piano and I totally made her day and she said it's like one of those things that you're always hearing about online and never actually happens to her.
She asked and I realized I can't remember when I started this sketchbook.
The kids on the train doing karaoke were emphatically not professional singers, and by that, I mean they made up for their lack of vocal abilities with loudness, which, no, isn’t how it’s supposed to work. I was hoping they’d get off at South Station or even JFK but nope, they stayed the entire way.
Also, someone spilled what I can only think is Skittlebrau, that is to say, a candy smell that was no doubt there to cover up something alcoholic.
burning question: what god put Robert Kennedy on this earth? Panglor, pangolin-headed god of disease and pangolins?
