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merkwürdig

TrachtWandering to work through Passau`s peaceful Sunday streets, I passed by an American woman bedecked in Tracht (the dirndl, lacy bits etc that make up Bavarian national dress) and explaining to a rapt cruise ship audience "well, not many people leave the church, because then nobody will bury you."

Musing on this, I rounded the corner to find it`s "take it bigger" day at my usual coffee shop (grande for the price of tall sizes, were you wondering). 

A friend of mine can raise one eyebrow without moving the other - if I could, I would.

an Englishman's home

It is a source of some amusement among my friends here that, despite having lived in Munich for over six months, my flat still has a somewhat - ah - minimalist flavour.  This is because I ran out of money to buy furniture with.  Am cheered to read in the Times today I am not the only one

Furniture is bourgeois anyway.  I have:

- 2 lamps in rose and gold wild silk
- an orange sofa I think is really cool and nobody else likes
- a birdfeeder
- an IKEA sleeping mat
- a shower curtain with pictures of hunky men on it
- 1 pan

It's all going to be OK, though - my professor kindly donated a chair, a computer desk and a harp carpet;  my neighbour equally kindly a windowbox;  and Tom splashed out on a folding plastic chair and a second pan.

What on earth does he want to cook that needs more than one pan?    

twanggggggggggggggg!

TwTwTw dropped a harp once - it made a terrible sound as it hit the ground, and then had to have a new neck costing over £5000.  That, however, is small change compared to what happened to John and Penny Adie last week.

I have spent many happy days in that very garden pictured and I can hear the crunch from here.  Echoing musicians everywhere, dear Lord, may the piano (and the insurance pay-out) be OK. 

The limits of my language mean the limits of my world

When I was sixteen, a French teacher told me something I have never forgotten - that learning languages opens not only practical opportunities, but also windows in the mind.  "You get all these opinions you never knew you had", she said, "because you have new words for them."   

Anyway, for various reasons, TwTwTw has been learning Polish since December - compared to which, I tell you, German is a walk in the park.  Polish has seven cases changing the endings of the words.  If I want to say "My mother is a teacher" I can use either the nominative ("Moja matka to nauczycielka") or the instrumental case ("Moja matka jest naucycielką).  If I want to say "coffee with milk", "with" requires the instrumental ("Kawa z mlekiem") but for "coffee without milk", "without" needs the accusative ("kawa bes mleka").  Obviously all the adjectives and pronouns also have to decline according to gender (3, plus a special extra one for male living things) and case.  Thus:  "they are good teachers":  "one są dobrymi nauczycielkami";  "he is a good teacher", "on jest dobrym nauczycielem".  "She is a good teacher" - "ona jest dobrą nauczycielką".  Numbers follow rules according to whether they end with 2,3&4 or the rest.  There are 4 main verb conjugations, each with about 3 subdivisions, depending on which grammar book you have, and it's not really possible to tell how a verb declines from the infinitive.  It also took me four weeks to learn how to pronounce.

On the up side, everyone is being very supportive:  my Polish colleagues and friends patiently correct my homework, and teach me useful expressions like "fuck", "boring rehearsal" and "oh Jesus."


motettu de tristura?

Hang on to your hats, for Lebrecht's Maestros, Masterpieces and Madness: the Secret Life and Shameful Death of the Classical Record Industry is out on Thursday.  Martin Kettle duly ponders the future of classical recording in the Guardian. 

I don't like to be rude but for goodness' sake -

Music, classical or otherwise, is an art form.  As such, it is a tapestry of human life and aspiration in every colour.  It comforts, encourages, and fires.  It can also be disturbing, funny or boring:  anything, in short, that reflects our feelings, the world about us and what may be above and beyond .  Through it, we come to know both ourselves and others, and as such, it matters. 

Some people may be more fufilled by literature, galleries, the theatre, football, or even by what I believe is called 'popular music'.  But there remain many people throughout the world passionately in love with 'classical  music' (if so it must be called).  Like any other major art form, it - recorded or otherwise - is not fucking dying.  It is evolving, like anything else alive.  It may be there is less of a market for more CDs of 'The Four Seasons', but there now exist 435 recordings of this piece, and even a seminal pop album like The Bends only comes out the once, give or take some re-mixes.

If artists do what has been done too much before of course public interest will wane.  I don't understand why death is shameful, if what has lived has come to the end of its allotted span.  Thereafter it becomes part of history, and our past is also part of our present and future selves.  Personally I think classical recording is still alive, but dead or alive, it still matters.

If musicians expect either to make money or attract interest through discs of music recorded hundreds of times before by better artists (if you really are the greatest yet, that's different - go tape a 436th 'Four Seasons'), then yes, they will struggle.  Hire a studio and do it for your own satisfaction if you like, but don't expect any support from industry.  Industry needs a market:  it has to give people something if they are to give (money) back to power it.

Classical music can never really be industrial anyway.  It's expensive to learn and perform and you have to pay musicians so that they can eat and bring forth riches that aren't fiscal.   As I've argued before, you have to make music matter enough for people to decide to invest in it, not expect it to pay.  If you want a classical CD, you have to fund it, just as if you want a music lesson, or a nice harp.  If you are poor, hopefully a civilised society that cares about the arts has sponsorship opportunities for you, but the need for money remains.

To make people care about any music, recorded or otherwise, you have to communicate - in concert, on disc, in books and magazines, through education and by what you create in the first place.  You have to reach out to others.   It never ceases to amaze me how many so-called artists think their self-interest self-expression is the only thing that counts, but music (to me) is too widely human, too gloriously infinite.   Just as someone who only talks about themselves is a crushing bore, all creative endeavours that are only masturbatory acts of self-love fail.  Some initial charisma might carry the artist for a while, but there is no lyricism, no tenderness, no angry drive to make things better for others, no love:  only an arid and deluded pride that ultimately burns itself away, for it has no other fuel.

I've been recording the Berio Folk Songs this week.  Without even getting off the stage of Bavarian Radio studio 2 I have been transported across throughout Europe and America; been at parties; with lovers; and briefly in a strange Sardinian darkness.  I am like Joyce Grenfell's taxi driver, who reads and all the time be travelling in his head.