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Posted by on Aug 26, 2014 in Articles, new articles | 0 comments

Shut Up, Please: One man’s approach to a problem of modern music

Shut Up, Please: One man’s approach to a problem of modern music

Posted by Melissa Wimbish (via The Weekly Standard)

Neighborly brawls are sometimes necessary. Especially when you’re defending the honor of classical music and homeboy in the third row is playing with his program like it’s a fucking baby rattle.

Joe Queenan is an American author that loves classical music. His writing is damn funny. In this story, he tells us of a trip to Carnegie and the things a man must do to enjoy some freaking Mahler:

A few years ago, I was offered two very good tickets to a New York Knicks game at Madison Square Garden. I invited my daughter to the game, but almost immediately my wife complained, “Why don’t you ever let me go?” So I gave them the two tickets and went to see the legendary pianist Alfred Brendel at Carnegie Hall instead. 

Even though my wife and daughter were rooting for the visiting Philadelphia 76ers that night, Knicks fans were very nice to them, and they came home saying that they had had a wonderful time. Nobody spilled beer on them, nobody swore at them, nobody in any way detracted from their fun. Which was awfully nice of them, considering that the Sixers won by 30 points. Meanwhile, 25 blocks north at Carnegie Hall, I was having an entirely different experience. 

From the time the geriatric-but-nimble Brendel began tickling the ivories, the three tourists seated in front of me started running their mouths. In German. That was bad enough. Worse was when one of them lifted his right arm and began playing air piano right along with the virtuoso on stage. He did this straight through the Haydn and straight through the Mozart. He did it in languorous, theatrical, ostentatious fashion. At intermission, I leaned forward and asked the woman if she and her friends were from the House of Annoyingness. 

“No,” she said. “Does such a thing exist?”

When the second half of the concert began, she and one of the men were gone, but Herr Air Piano was back. Worse still, he was now seated directly in front of me. The first time he lifted his arm to simulate a luxuriant glissando I tapped him on the shoulder and told him to stop. The second time he did it, I grabbed him by the forearm, forcefully yanked it down and said, “If you do that one more time, I’ll break your arm off at the shoulder. I swear to God.”

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