Morris men in a ring at the autumn equinox
Tag: Music
View from the outdoor stage
When the imagination takes flight
They sound like happy fireworks
Kinisi 7: And then, one gift
time? travel? symphony and opera
Bells of freedom ringing
Thinking of freedom, we can see it as personal expression as well as political opportunity. For some of us, that was a big dimension of the hippie movement.
The 50th anniversary of Woodstock is coming up next month. Normally, that would mark a jubilee, some even acclaiming it as a celebration of the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. Alas, the dark ages we thought had passed have returned from the dead, in intensified deadliness at that.
Jubilee, by the way, is drawn from the Biblical book of Leviticus, and it’s a most radical idea. Every 50 years, all the wealth in the land is to be redistributed. The scriptural passage is inscribed on the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia, so don’t tell me it’s not American.
~*~
One of the passages I cut before the final version of my novel What’s Left is one where she’s asking her aunt about the hippie experience:
I’ve never asked you about your own drug use.
OK? Can I say it was just enough to convince others I wasn’t a narc?
So were you really a hippie? I mean, you had such short hair!
You trying to say a hippie couldn’t have short hair? Don’t you know how radical my style was? You ever think I could conform to anything?
Well, you’ve indicated you weren’t stoned. I’m going down the list.
Have you considered the impact of the Pill? Or free love?
Oh, I’m so glad Cassia stopped talking like this! In the final version, she’s pretty snippy.
~*~
For the record, some of the truest hippies I’ve known weren’t promiscuous or do drugs. And some others never marched in a protest.
Still, as an image of the era, let me ask: What’s your impression of Woodstock? Have you ever been to a big, multiday festival? What’s your favorite music? How do you best express your free spirit?
They both wound up living in Lotus Land
Stravinsky and his dictum, “Limitations make art.”
Heifitz’ love of movies yet no time to attend.
It’s not an entirely gray audience
I’m so happy to hear that the New Yorker’s perceptive classical music critic, Alex Ross, is about twenty years younger than me.
There’s so much young talent to champion. And some exciting new sounds, too.
Now, more than ever.
Singing over beers
So there we were after choir rehearsal, more than 20 of us gathered for what’s called a pub sing.
It’s commonplace in England and Ireland, I suppose, but a rarity in the States.
In fact, this was my first encounter. One of our members had reserved a room at a tavern down the street.
Our Boston Revels organization hosts public versions of these during the year, but this was more impromptu. Yes, we had a stack of the organization’s songbooks, just in case. As our motto states, “Where tradition comes to life.”
Two of those present had birthdays, so we belted out in the traditional Happy Birthday song, in glorious four-part harmony – maybe more.
And then one basso voice continued in a dark melody with lyrics like “long ago your hair turned gray, now it’s falling out, they say,” or “it’s your birthday, never fear, you’ll be dead this time next year.” He was quickly joined by a soprano across the table in what became a competition to see who could remember lines the other didn’t know.
For those with a mordant sense of humor, it’s (UHH!) great fun. You can even Google it under the “Happy Birthday Dirge.” For the record, we sang it much better than any of the versions you’ll hear there.
Fortunately, my birthday had slipped past unnoticed just a few weeks earlier.
Maybe next year?
Welcome spring!
