Mental Acid Reflux

My mind wanders . . . a lot. Chasing thoughts down yesterday's rabbit holes is rarely an activity worth sharing - except, perhaps, for today.

The other day I followed my wandering mind to my Grandpa Southard and the adventures we had together. His health has been poor of late, making this all the more apropos.

Most memorable was the glider ride, soaring over Mount Timpanogos some 17 years ago (adventurous as he is, he excused himself from the actual flight part). Next was the road trip to Montana and Glacier National Park. It was a pleasant meander down memory lane.

And then, just like in the movies, it was time for a musical intermission: you know, the time where you get up and get a snack at the drive-in.

Maybe that's a bad metaphor. Really, what was the last movie you watched that had a musical intermission? Ben Hur? Lawrence of Arabia? And who, anymore, has even seen that? There's a new poll question.

Anyway, it was a musical intermission - complete with a man in suspenders dancing in front of (and for) a pig. Not that the imagery was all that important to my wandering mind; it was the melody.

And while I was tempted to get a snack during this musical intermission, I had a mystery to solve (Jinkies!). This melody was somehow connected to my Grandpa. And he wasn't the one dancing in front of (and for) the pig.

This is all like mental acid reflux. Where does this stuff come from?

It didn't take long to figure out the pig movie: how many are there, anyway? Two? Babe and Babe: Pig in the City. Not having seen the sequel, I assumed it was the first Babe I had seen in my mind's eye. Great show, by the way - the movie, not the mental regurgitation.

Now that I had the correct movie, it was time to rewind and listen to the melody. For those of you who go through trying to remember melodies from a movie you haven't seen in years, you know that this is very difficult.

It took me two days.

And then I had an apostrophe. Lightning had just struck my brain. ("Well, that must hurt," says Captain Hook.) It all made sense!

It was Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns' 3rd movement from his 3rd symphony - the "Organ" symphony! (Not a concerto, mind you. The organ is not a solo instrument, but rather a symphony with an organ in it.)

While at my Grandpa's house in Oregon, I was introduced to this Saint-Saëns "organ" symphony. Relatively new to serious classical music, I appreciated this piece for how the organ could rattle the china right off the shelves when played very loud. To boot, the melody is infectious and will stay with you forever. I wonder what the french word for "earworm" is?

When Babe came out, my dad I had an "a-ha" moment and prided ourselves in that fact. It was much like all of those snobby English majors who, after seeing a movie, say "the book is SO much better."

Of course, the suspendered man wasn't merely humming a symphony, but the number 3 song on the UK music charts from 1977.

I can see your eyes getting droopy; it is time for the video evidence.

First, the offending scene from my musical intermission.

That'll do, pig.

At the time, I thought the movie clever for adding lyrics to the Saint-Saëns melody. Little did I know it was an actual pop song some 18 years previous - à la A Lover's Concerto and Bach's Minuet in G.

See how many different "elements" you can identify in this video. Here's what I have so far: Hogwarts school of Witchcraft, A Bee Gee, Reggae, a MoTab organ and the Tijuana Brass.

Now for the actual 3rd movement. The famous melody becomes apparent within the first minute. I apologize for the horn section; they really need to be on a shorter leash.

As always, if you would like to do greater research into the matter, I have both Babe and a copy of the 3rd symphony for you to "borrow."

Beethoven, Phone Home

I've been having some difficulty writing what I want to say as a review of the Utah Symphony "All Beethoven" season premier we attended last Saturday night. I am to write my impressions of the 9th symphony ("Ode to Joy") while Diahan will review the 4th piano concerto. We have entirely different takes on each.

As I was saying, it is not coming along very well. Rather than frustrate myself further, how about an indirect Beethoven post vis-a-vis the Voyager space probes?

It was during a college science class that I became acquainted with the Voyager program; and the best thing to come out of that class was the research I did to find . . . Beethoven.

Launched a few months after I was born in 1977, Voyagers 1 and 2 were initially designed for a five year mission to study Jupiter and Saturn. Having swimmingly accomplished their task, the probes then visited all the giant outer planets of our solar system and 48 of their moons.

Now leaving the solar system, the probes are exploring the boundary between the Sun's influence and interstellar space.

To get a little more detailed, Voyager 1 has passed through the Termination Shock into the Heliosheath. The Termination Shock, some 8.7 billion miles away (click on the picture to the left), is where the solar wind is abruptly slowed down by the pressure of the hydrogen and helium gas between the stars. "The heliosheath is the region of the heliosphere beyond the Termination Shock. Here the wind is slowed, compressed and made turbulent by its interaction with the interstellar medium (i.e. the hydrogen, helium and dust)."

Needless to say, it is boldly going where no man has gone before.

Should you be taking a 30+ year voyage beyond the solar system, what would you pack? "Leave the gun? Take the cannoli?"

If you were NASA, you would be sure to include a Golden Record - just in case you were to need to ask for directions somewhere in the intergalactic soup.

Can you imagine having the responsibility of compiling the data to be stored - and hopefully shared - on this 12 inch gold-plated copper phonograph?

What would you include to convey the essence of our earthly existence to an alien civilization? The Bible? A baby's laugh? Monet's Impression of a Sunrise? (Images were encoded in analog form, with instructions on the cover on how to read it.)

Just for fun, let's not have that question be hypothetical. I will put my top five items in the comments section. If your curiosity leads you there, feel free to put your top five suggestions for an intergalactic calling card as well.

If you were NASA, your list would include:

- 117 pictures explaining Earth

- Greetings in 54 different human languages and greetings from humpback whales

- A selection of sounds from Earth, including storms, volcanoes, trains, airplane and rocket take-offs and a mother kissing a child

- 90 minutes of music, including classical, tribal, rock & roll, ancient and unfortunately - country.

After reading of this extra terrestrial mix tape, I had to find out what made these music selections so special to merit "immortality" in space. As a result, I was introduced to one of Beethoven's most moving pieces: the String Quartet No. 13 in B flat, Opus 130, Cavatina movement.

It is no wonder that Beethoven said the Cavatina caused him more pain to write than anything else. Beethoven himself singled it out as the crowning achievement of his chamber output and of his entire late period (this includes the Missa Solemnis, the 9th Symphony, and all the late quartets).

Can you hear the deep pain within the unbroken melody? Is this not an agonized cry for relief, for happiness and peace that never comes? Imagine writing such heavenly music and not being able to HEAR it.

In closing, I have included the Beethoven Cavatina for your listening pleasure, enjoyment, experience. Turn the speakers up. Go to a happy place, because you are about to get sad.

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After listening to it a few moments ago, perhaps I should include it on my list as well.

NASA is pretty smart, after all.

Ode to Classical Music

Please forgive this celebratory outburst. We just bought three pairs of tickets to the symphony and opera (you had to buy three to get 20% off), and I'm high as a kite.

It's funny how many people consider a night at the opera to be genuinely incomprehensible. The next thing said is that we must be really smart and cultured.

Smart? No.

Cultured? We think that's a fantastic goal. But mostly, a night at the opera is a really, really good time.

The difficulty in writing any persuading prose about classical music is the guaranteed inference of elitism. Granted, we wholeheartedly accept that charge in relation to ICE CREAM, but not classical music. Country music, on the other hand - well, let me paraphrase Bob Newhart:

I don’t like country music, but I don’t mean to denigrate those who do. And for the people who like country music, denigrate means ‘put down.’

Now that I have clearly defined the music world, we can move on to my wholly un-elitist paean to classical music.

A love of classical music does not come easily, though it does come naturally. I believe we are predisposed to recognize "anything virtuous, lovely or of good report," especially as all share an inspired heritage from the Divine.

My love of classical music originated in a home where my dad's classical LPs were always spinning and, on rare occasions, my mother played it on the piano.

But most who discover classical music (it is a discovery process) do so later in life. It is usually born out of a hunger or an unsatisfied longing. Constant stimuli ironically creates a void - a void that can only be satisfied by things of an eternal nature. To me, classical music (or fine music in general) is next to godliness. Like the Promethean fire stolen from heaven, we have music to remind us of our celestial origins. We gravitate to the holy because we recognize it.

It is my strong belief that our tastes are evolutionary. Very few still eat Chef Boyardee or Smartees. Instead, we discover that we do like mustard and appreciate fine cuisine.

In a fantastic BYU Magazine article, Elder Douglas L. Callister said:

When some music has passed the tests of time and been cherished by the noble and refined, our failure to appreciate it is not an indictment of grand music. The omission is within. If a young person grows up on a steady diet of hamburgers and french fries, he is not likely to become a gourmet. But the fault is not with fine food. He just grew up on something less. Some have grown up on a steady diet of musical french fries.

It is controversial these days to speak in absolutes and say that something is inherently better than another. Who is to say that gourmet food is better than french fries? Well, I love french fries (as can be seen by my girlish figure) but a nice veal marsala is better. I mean no slight to the french fry lover - unless they like french fries and country music.

As with absolutes, it is uncouth today to be a connoisseur and form opinions.

I agree that liking classical music can be a hard thing to do. But that's half the fun for me. I started out liking Pachelbel's Canon in D, wondering why everybody liked Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. Now, I still love Pachelbel and still don't like the Rite of Spring. But I have found hundreds of other wonderful pieces to like since then. Perhaps some day I'll understand the Rite of Spring. I'm sure some day I'll be ready for it.

What we don't understand - like the Rite of Spring - we find boring. We find things boring because we are not familiar with them. Just as baseball is boring to those who do not understand the rules, classical music is no different. There is so much there to learn, which again is half the fun.

Would that we were all required to take Music Appreciation 101 both as a youth and then as an adult. Classical music almost requires an introduction, a teacher. Instead, we stumble upon classical music after hearing an amazing score to our favorite movie, commercial, cartoon or muppet performance (see below).

I like to think of that scene in Mr. Holland's Opus where he introduced the music class to Beethoven's 7th symphony (2nd movement) while telling them about Beethoven's struggle with deafness. They, like you, were hooked!

Said Oscar Wilde:

“After playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed, and mourning over tragedies that were not my own.”

If this sounds rehearsed, it is because we discuss this frequently at home. Diahan loves country music and french fries. She admirably tries to humor my classical music evangelism and even lets me play it at home.

Unfortunately, she is not yet a true believer - though she loves going to the opera. She agrees with me in theory, but her honky tonk heart is hard.

Between you and me, I'm not sure I'd want it any other way.

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For years I gave away classical CDs like candy - my own attempt at being Mr. Holland. And even now, I would like nothing more than for everyone to go with us to hear Beethoven's 9th performed live. In case we don't see you there, I have included a nice rendition of the Ode to Joy finale, among others.

P.S. Just so you know that I'm not a complete square, I own a gun, love Led Zeppelin, Bruce Springsteen, Johnny Cash and long walks on the beach - in that order.

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