This weekend is Memorial Day, the traditional BBQ kickoff to summer. But on these shores, it's the day to remember the fallen from past - and current - wars. The day was originally called Decoration Day, the date was at the very beginning of summer so that wild flowers would be available everywhere for families to decorate the graves of their fallen loved ones.
Many had no graves to decorate, as their loved one had an anonymous foreign grave for their final rest. Today the Texas Air National Guard (and others) bring the fallen home on "Angel Flights". This weekend, remember them. Both the quick and the dead.
When it was released in 1959, Beh Hur became the second highest grossing film in history (behind Gone With The Wind) - saving MGM from bankruptcy. It won an astonishing 11 Academy Awards, including best musical scoring by composer Miklós Rózsa.
It's good music for Easter. I hope that you (like we) are enjoying it with family.
Holy Week calls for the Big Guns of classical music. Hector Berlioz was one of these, and his Messe Solennelle is one of the great works of religious music. Astonishingly, Berlioz was only twenty years old when he wrote this, and then destroyed the music for Messe Solennelle (except for the Resurrexit portion).
In the Eyes of a Ranger, the unsuspecting Stranger, had better know the truth of wrong from night Cause the rule of law and order starts at the Texas border, with the lone Star of the Ranger shining bright.
For the Eyes of a Ranger are upon you; Any wrong you do, he's gonna see. When you're in Texas look behind you; for that's where the Ranger's gonna be.
In the Heart of a Ranger he'll never know the danger; from desperate men with nothing left to lose, the Ranger keeps on coming; so there ain't no sense in running, cause he's bound and sure to make you pay your dues.
For the Eyes of a Ranger are upon you; Any wrong you do, he's gonna see. When you're in Texas look behind you; for that's where the Ranger's gonna be.
When a Ranger's on your Trail, he won't know how to fail, and you can't buy him off at any price; so if you decide to ramble, and with your life you'd gamble, know where you are before you roll the dice.
For the Eyes of a Ranger are upon you; Any wrong you do, he's gonna see. When you're in Texas look behind you; for that's where the Ranger's gonna be.
If you see him coming' round the outskirts of town, never take that Ranger for a ride. For the Eyes of a Ranger are upon you; Any wrong you do, he's gonna see. When you're in Texas look behind you; for that's where the Ranger's gonna be.
Yes, that's sung by Chuck himself.
But this is the song that I associate the most with him. R.I.P.
Top o' the morning to you, and happy St. Patrick's Day (almost). This is my
traditional Paddy's Day post, mostly because I love the music here.
What is the "Classical Music" of Ireland? It's not (Italian) Opera, or (German) symphonies, or even an (English) homage to
Ralph Vaughan Williams (who studied under an Irish music professor)
"countryside music" in the concert hall. Instead, we find something ancient.
We
find something that easily might not have been. Turlough O'Carolan
(1670 – 25 March 1738) was the son of a blacksmith. His father took a
job for the MacDermot Roe family; Mrs. MacDermot Roe gave the young lad
some basic schooling and saw in him a talent for poetry; when a few
years later the 18 year old Turlough went blind after a bout of
smallpox, she had him apprenticed to a harpist. He soon was travelling
the land, composing and singing.
This
tradition was already ancient by the early 1700s. it was undeniably
Celtic, dating back through the Middle Ages, through the Dark Ages,
through Roman times to a barbarous Gaul. There bards travelled the
lands playing for their supper on the harp.
This
was O'Carolan's stock in trade. He rapidly became the most famous
singer in the Emerald Isle. It is said that weddings and funerals were
delayed until he was in the vicinity. One of his most famous
compositions - if you have spent any time at all listening to Irish
music, you know this tune - was considered too "new fangled" by the
other harpists of his day. Fortunately, he didn't listen to their
criticisms.
He
married very late, at 50, and had many children. But his first love
was Brigid, daughter of the Schoolmaster at a school for the blind. He
always seemed to have carried a torch for her.
So
why is this post in the normal slot reserved for Classical Music?
Listen to this composition of his, and you see the bridge from the
archaic Celts to Baroque harpsichord.
And
keep in mind how this brilliance might never have blazed, had Mrs.
MacDermot Roe not seen the talent in a blind Irish boy and set him upon a
path trod by many equally unexpected geniuses, all the way back to St.
Patrick. It is truly said that we never know what our own path will be
until we set our foot down on it.
But
his was an ancient path and he inherited much from those who trod it
before him. His "Farewell to Music" is said to be more in the
traditional mold, and might have been appreciated at a feast held by
Vercingetorix before the battle of Alesia.
This
music is a bridge between modern and the ancient that disappears into
the mists of legend. Perhaps more importantly, it is a music that is
still alive today, after a run of perhaps two and a halfmillennia.
And
it is a music where you still hear the yearning of a young blind man
for his muse, Brigid. That is a vitality that should not be exiled to a
single day of celebration, even if it is for as illustrious a Saint as
Patrick. On this Feast Day of St. Patrick (almost), remember just how deep the roots of our
civilization run. (Originally posted March 16, 2014)
Country music is alive and well in the Emerald Isle. Glór Tíre is a long running and highly rated country music talent competition on Ireland's TG4 channel. The last season's winner was Paddy Treacy with this song. It's Irish (for sure) but it is indisputably country. I love this video - it looks like he and his mates had a blast filming it.
Nightnoise is one of the most famous Irish jazz ensembles, combining jazz with traditional Irish themes. As we come hard into St. Paddy's Day, this seems a fun kickoff that a bunch of you should like.
Farewell to the Washington Post. Journalists never cared when mills across the land shut down and people and towns were wiped out; now it's wailing like the End Of The World by journalists, for journalists.
I'm having trouble summoning up sympathy. Welcome to the club, pal.
