Joyful

Termagant Tuesday: “Pennies From Heaven,” Louis Prima

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To follow up on yesterday’s super-inspiring Peruvian llamas post, about which a number of you wrote me to suggest perhaps I needed a vacation (thanks, genius), here’s a song that will make you feel like you just won one for free.  And because you got lippy with me, I’m going to tell you, in the longest, wordiest possible way, how it was I came to find this song.  Aren’t you excited?  …Say you’re excited.

Long before there were iPods and MP3 players (aside: I love how we still say “MP3 players” even though the market for Apple alternatives only existed for about 20 minutes), there were discmen and CDs.  And poor students have existed since the beginning of time, or at least since the beginning of the $800 college textbook (hi, Dad!).  So it was a big deal when my university’s student union would have CD sales.  This being a student union at a small university in the middle of nowhere that nevertheless attracted a healthy international student body, the selections were really weird.

This one particular afternoon, after I’d slept off my hangover (sorry, Dad…), I padded down the street to the union to get a cheap late lunch before gently installing myself in the library. And when I walked through the front doors, what hit my senses first?  Well, yes, stale beer on the floor, but – a huge rack of CDs.  Hot damn!  I got three: a Meatloaf album, a classical thing of some kind, and our pal Louis Prima.

Whenever I have a hard day that still allows some room for bucking up, unlike those days that are so frustrating you just want to hide in a dark closet, I put this on.

Now aren’t you glad I took you on that stroll down Memory Lane?  …Say you’re glad.

Sacred Sunday: “Give Good Gifts,” Anon.

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Among the many lessons my mother taught me, “don’t be mean, don’t be stupid” (I’m paraphrasing) ranks pretty highly. Equal with this was the other lesson that life is hard for everyone for some reason. Everyone you meet has a story and is probably having a hard time in some aspect of their lives, do why not be kind? (She also taught me about beat poetry, sterling silver hallmarks, the stock market, and how to use a power drill, but those are less germane to this Shaker hymn.) These were two wonderfully important lessons for any kid to learn and this Mother’s Day I’m reminded, as I usually am, that all checks and money orders should be sent to her, not me, if you find me to be an agreeable person.

Funk Friday: “Tukka Yoot’s Riddim,” Us3

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So here’s something twisted: kids who were born in 1993, when this record came out, are old enough to drink now.  They’re gonna be hitting the bars tonight buying drinks with real IDs.  Curse you, relentless passage of time.

I remember buying my first legal drink.  I ordered a glass of red wine in a Legal Seafood restaurant in a mall.  I didn’t get carded, the wine was a bit blech, it felt very anti-climactic.  Ordering a drink at a bar, of course, was very different.  I really did feel like I was getting away with something.  I kept waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and give me a condescending “Okay, honey, let’s go.”  But no one did.  So, bars were no longer mythic – less Mists of Avalon, more Terminal B Airport Lounge.

So, a bar is a bar is a bar.  (You of course are a bar, but were always a bar.  (Robert Frost, up top!))  The best bar I have ever been to is basically an enormous living room, filled with squashy sofas and arm chairs.  The drinks are reasonably priced, the food is delicious, and the service just desultory enough to allow you ample time to wonder if you’ll die in the chair you selected, and then realize you won’t really mind because it’s so very comfortable.  In fact, the bar in “Tukka Yoot’s Riddim” slightly resembles this Elysium of bars.  So, while drinking tends to cram a half-hour of loose amusement into three hours of unpleasantness, you might as well do it sitting in a blue velveteen low-rider sofa listening to an upright bass player.  Word to the wise, newly-minted 21-year olds.

Oh and one more thing: shots are the Devil’s plaything.  Shots are how the Saxons fell.  Don’t do shots.  Promise me.  Ok?  Look me in the eye.  Ok.  Now be home by 11.  And would it kill you to wear pants that fit?

Throwback Thursday: “Academic Festival Overture, op. 80,” Johannes Brahms

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I listened to this piece on loop during the last month of both my undergraduate and my graduate programs.  Normally I like the statelier tempo of George Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra, but Kurt Masur captures the real heart of this piece, which is basically, “oh please can this just be over already I am very very tired.”

There isn’t anything quite like the mad dash to the finish of any educational program.  You had no idea you had the capacity to write three papers and take four exams in the same week until you don’t have a choice in the matter.  The last month of my graduate program was especially heinous.  Breakfast, lunch, and dinner could be found for $0.75 in the vending machine closest to the library.  My fuse was short as number of hours of sleep I allowed myself at night.  Fully inked yellow highlighters were currency.  I would do wall sits in between paper drafts to keep my legs limber (because clearly I couldn’t take an actual walk, that would take too much time).  The little dots next to my friends’ names on GChat would be red throughout the day until after 10pm, when they would turn over to green because they wanted company, moral support, and spell-check help.  It was a dark time.

And then, slowly, these massive boulders got pushed down the other side of the mountain, one by one, until one Tuesday afternoon.  I finished a paper, closed my computer, and after sitting for a minute, realized…I just did it.  I just did all my work.  I called my friend Rebecca who lived down the street and said, “I…uh…I think I just…finished.”  “Yeah…I think I did too…”  We sat in silence on the phone for a minute.  “This is weird.”  The daze lasted for about a day or two.  But then…

…at 8:30 in the piece, jubilation!  Gaudeamus igitur!  We got capped and gowned and graduated and drank champagne with little raspberries floating in it and called ourselves Masters.  It was a hell of a feeling.  So to all the students in my Capstone course, to all my friends who are turning in those papers now – keep your spirits up.  I promise it will be over soon.

Salubrious Saturday: “My Old Kentucky Home,” The Kings of Dixieland

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It’s Derby Day, Tune-Up fans, “the most exciting two minutes in sport.”  For my international readers who don’t follow or care about horse racing – unforgivable! – the Kentucky Derby is arguably the most important race of the year, and has been held on the first Saturday in May every year since 1875.  It is the first in what’s called the Triple Crown: the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness (held in Baltimore, Maryland), and the Belmont (in Elmont, New York, and no, that’s not a typo).  Whoever wins the Derby continues on to compete in the other two.  Kentucky being the seat of American horse country, it makes sense for the race that begins the Triple Crown to begin here.

The Derby has a number of traditions.  Official drink: the mint julep (which was invented in Washington, D.C., at the Round Robin bar, in case you had a trivia night planned later today).  Official flower: the red rose.  And, official song: My Old Kentucky Home.  Some call it the most moving moment in sports when the horses take the field and this song is played.  I think that’s a bit rich, and I love the Dixieland version much more.  So raise your julep and have yourself a grand day.  My money is on Wicked Strong (7-1 odds), by the way.  Obviously.

Termagant Tuesday: “Semper Fidelis March,” Bob Crosby

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What with all the hoo-hah happening in the world (yes, I am a defense analyst, hello), it occurs to one, especially this American one, that there are certain things we all count on to maintain order and stability.  Among these things, which would include trade and commerce, diplomacy, and a worldwide dislike of Justin Bieber (at least among those old enough to make powerful decisions), is the United States Marine Corps.  Say what you will about the use of American power abroad, you can’t deny that there is a reason why “Marine” has a powerful ring to it.  To salute my male and female friends in the Corps, most especially one friend in particular who is welcoming his first child into the world, I offer up this zippy Bob Crosby number.  Semper Fi!

Modernism Monday: “Touch The Sky,” Julie Fowlis

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Oh, Tuners, I am on such a high.  I ran the Nike Women’s half-marathon yesterday and I can’t believe I did.  I honestly can’t.  It’s going to be an experience that I’m going to lean on for years to come.  This song came on my iPod just as I was getting into a sweet cruising zone, and so now whenever I hear this, I’m going to remember that feeling of, “holy crap, I can do this!  I am doing this!” Every now and again, it feels really, really good to see what you can do when you really push it.

“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.”  – R.W. Emerson

Salubrious Saturday: “Conquering Lion,” Souljazz Orchestra

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Someone once asked me what my motto was.  And by “someone once asked me,” I mean I wish someone would have asked me once.  Except then I wouldn’t have been able to come with one on the spot, so thanks, everyone, for holding off until I could think of one.

Actually, ok, I lied.  I have a few.

  1. “Don’t be mean, don’t be stupid.”  – High school art teacher
  2. “Keep Calm and Don’t Suck.”  – A sign I saw once
  3. “What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.”  – R.W. Emerson
  4. “If there’s a can of whoopass in the room, I open it.”  – Brian Williams (yes, the NBC News Brian Williams.  Yes, he really said that.)

I like to think this song encapsulates all four.

Sacred Sunday: “Surrexit Christus Hodie,” Samuel Scheidt, John Arnold

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Surrexit Christus Hodie!  It’s Easter!  Hooray!  I apologize for being so late posting today’s Tune-Up, faithful readers; I’ve been singing Easter service and doing post Easter service activities.

Easter is, obviously, all about the resurrection of Jesus.  This being a joyous occasion, Easter music is just about the best of all liturgical music in the calendar, and all hinges on the central theme of rebirth.  We sang a few versions of this today.  First, my choir sang this glorious anthem by early 17th century German composer Samuel Scheidt. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been looking forward to it all year.  The version we sang was much longer than this (there are a total of six verses) but the tempo and tone are very similar.

Surrexit Christus hodie

Humano pro solamine

Mortem qui passus pridie

Miserrimo pro homine.

Laudetur sancta trinitas,

Deo dicamus gratias.

The words are from a 14th century Bohemian carol.  What do these latin lyrics mean?  This piece grew up to be that gem in the Easter crown, “Jesus Christ Is Risen Today,” whose tune was written by John Arnold about a hundred years later in 1749.

 

Whatever religious tradition you follow, wherever in the world you are, I hope you have a joyous day today.