Music Fur Ur Ears

NOTE: This post is part of a series that shall hopefully be continued in the following weeks. I'm going to be working on new and wild photo-projects soon, but for now you get my harebrained thoughts on music.


Fur Elise is probably one of the most-played songs in recitals around the country (and for good reason). Impressively, Americans can say the name of this infamous song and still avoid sounding like Huckleberry Finn. (Must be the European association.) In an imaginary conversation, however, things can take a disastrous turn:

"You gonna write a song for Becky Thatcher, Tom?"
"Shore. What should I call it?"
"I dunno. How bout, 'Fur Becky?'"

Thankfully, Beethoven did not dedicate many songs.

If I were the dictator of the piano world (provided that position does exist) I would send Fur Elise into exile for just four years. Fur Elise would be the George Foreman of pianoland, and in a mere half-decade make a triumphal entry back into recital halls around the country. If little pieces of music like Fur Elise behaved like the fashions of the '80s, everything would be right in the musical world. They go in, they go out. You might miss the little suckers for a spell, but if you plan on becoming an octogenarian, you are guaranteed to see them make a comeback at least three times. And each time they come into fashion again- you're glad to see them! They are new, refreshing, sensational. (Sorry, sometimes I just have to share my earth-shattering ideas with you.)

Once when I was younger, I watched a dramatization of the life of Beethoven. I only recall a very angry lunatic flinging a plate at an unsuspecting waiter before marching home to write one of the greatest symphonies of all time.
I wish my bad days ended like that.

Unfortunately, composition was the last thing on my mind last Wednesday when I fell down the stairs and later had a grisly encounter with my arch nemesis, the cheese grater. I have come to the grand conclusion, however, that my lack of inspiration and talent is perfectly acceptable. After all, Beethoven once said "There are and will be a thousand princes; there is only one Beethoven."
No doubt Beethoven was a egomaniacal crackpot, but let's all confess: he was a really talented egomaniacal crackpot.


Oh, yeah. And I forgot to mention...shoulder pads are coming back. I'm going to go hide in my closet. If you want to periodically bring me water and food I'd sure appreciate it.