Franz Joseph Haydn comes from a time when there were no pop stars pumping out hit songs & political controversy every week just to remain in the public eye. But his fame & acclaim was wide. Pop has taken the place of the classical composer. No one regards Springsteen with the same musical reverence they hold for Schubert.
I have a fair bit of Haydn in my classical collection. So much in fact that his music always in rotation on my iPod. As a result of commissions he wrote for every instrument & combination of instruments available in his time – flute, cello, piano even glass harmonica. Musician for hire.
At one time I had his complete piano sonatas on Lp thanks to the Musical Heritage Society (MHS) which I replaced with a boxset of Masterworks – 40 cds – that bought at HMV for $39.99, that box includes the complete sonatas, along with Symphonies 52-104; loads of choral music, organ music, masses, cello/trumpet concertos. When did he sleep?
I have as stand alone’s his: Stabat Mater; solo piano music; Violin Concerti – compositions not included the in 40 cd set – I repeat ‘not included.’ There is music for another 40 cd box set I suspect. I have enough but being a bit of a completest if I run across that set I’d buy it too 🙂
The music is all delightful, frequently emotionally compelling – in particular the choral music. Much of his instrumental music was written for chamber performances & also for ‘amateur’ performers. Haydn is a good place to start a classical collection. The piano music is tidy & approachable, the chamber music relaxing & the symphonies easy on the ears.
What’s that smell? There was something in the air. Something tasty. Good. Yummy. The wolf’s stomach growled in anticipation. Mmmm. He moved through the underbrush. The smell was coming closer. Not rabbit. No couldn’t be rabbit. No stray cat ever smelt this good. So tasty. The wolf drooled.
How long has it been since there’s been anything more than scrawny birds to munch here. Too long. Much too long. What was that smell? It came closer. A shape moved in the woods. Not too far away. He ran quickly toward it.
He stood at the edge of a clearing. The smell came from there. A pile of something that shifted and moved. He moved closer, careful. It might be one of those traps that grabbed paws and broke legs.
The shape shifted and eyes met his.
‘Oh Mr Wolf!’
There was no fear in the sounds the shape made.
‘I was fixing my shoe. It had come undone.’
The wolf put his nose in the air and sniffed.
‘Oh ho you can’t have these.’ The shape covered the object it was carrying. ‘These are for my Grandma but, my, they smell good. Doön’t they?’ The shape lifted a corner and sweet smells came out. No they weren’t the smell the wolf had noticed.
‘Grr grool.’ the wolf’s eyes met the shapes eyes.
‘Ohh no you can’t have any of this. It isn’t for you.’
‘No use begging me.’
The shape stood taller than he’d expect. On two legs. The smell was stronger now.
‘Gruff grwoo.’ he pawed the ground.
‘No use beginning that sort of behavior. I can’t give you anything.’ The shape moved away and stopped. ‘But I’ll make a deal with you. If you can tell me my name. My real name. Then I’ll give you all you want.’
The corner of the object was lifted again. The sweet smell turned the wolf’s stomach. ‘Deal?’
‘Grrug grool.’ the wolf stretched out his front legs and raised his tail.
‘How sweet to bow down like that. You are a smart one Mr Wolf. Smart enough to find out my name?’
Oh yes my tasty one. Your name is on the tip of my tongue – meat – fresh tender meat.
HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam
June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) capfireslam.org