iTalk
*strike*
*drag*
Oh, I have so much to tell y'all. So much I kept thinking I should share, but never really got round to. Where do I begin? Ah well, anywhere will do I guess.
*drag*
So a couple of months ago, I was invited to a brass band concert. I say 'invited' because it was a formal event, I had to get all dressed up in my suit and pink tie. Yes, pink. The concert was in the Town Hall, the VIP passes were for the best seats in the house, and I do mean the best - on the balcony, right in the centre, where the acoustics are supposed to be better than anywhere else. But before all that, there was a special wine reception for those with VIP invites.
I thought I better get me some of that, if I am to make it through the evening. Honestly, I wasn't particularly excited by the thought of having to sit through a couple of hours of polite clapping at music I didn't really understand, of appearing interested like all the other prim and proper people, of having to behave myself. It's an altogether different matter that by the end, I was almost holding onto the balcony railing and headbanging to the climax of the fantastic O Fortuna from Carmina Burana by Orff.
*drag*
The wine helped, of course. Thank God for fermentation. I was floating through Handel, Mendellsohn, Weber, Brahms, Bach. I was flying through the Hallelujah Chorus, and biting my trembling lower lip through Adagio for Strings. I was picturing myself suddenly standing up, walking on the railing, with arms flailing around, like a conductor. Ah, music and alcohol. Suddenly, I knew more about classical music than anyone else around me. Only I could truly appreciate the little nuances in the compositions, the little half notes and subtle changes in scale. I even had a little Hannibal moment, when one of the guys in the chorus, who looked like Jack from Will and Grace (Just Jack!), began to get on my nerves for singing off key. The old guy next to him was opening his mouth too wide, and I was wincing disapprovingly, like the brilliant Dr. Lecter.
And then came the first strains of O Fortuna.
*drag*
I had been waiting for this all evening. I had said to my colleague during the break (when I duly paid my respects again to fermentation), "Hey, the programme says Carmina Burana. 'O Fortuna' is going to be awesome!"
"Eh?"
"The song from the Old Spice ad."
"Ah..."
And I was not disappointed. Listening to a live chorus and orchestra play that piece was incredible. Everything else seemed to fade away a little bit, and it seemed they were playing just for me. This piece is gothic metal in the guise of respectable western classical music. I was lost. My colleague had to restrain me, reminding me to behave myself because I was in polite company. I said some unprintable stuff and continued headbanging.
*drag*
I sang that chorus all the way home and for the rest of the evening. I searched on the net for songs that included parts of this piece, and played them on loop. I brought out the air guitar and put some serious distortion riffs into the song. It was a night to remember.
No photography or recording equipment was allowed inside, so the only real evidence I have of that evening is a picture of me outside the concert hall, in my suit and pink tie.
I look at that picture and think, "Damn, having music and alcohol inside me even makes me look better..."
*drag*
*flick*
Well, look at that, there was so much I wanted to tell y'all and just one story's taken so long. And I need another one of these.
Oye chote, aur ek cup cutting laa.
"What?"
Haan woich re gore, another pint of Carling, please.
I saw an interesting cartoon in the paper some time ago. It was one of those single-frame strips, where the artist has to be at his most perceptive, and this one was brilliant. One Britisher is telling his colleague, on the way in to work, "I heard an English accent on the train today."
Touche, my friend.
Hum ne angrezi seekhi thi, waisich abhi tu bhi Hindi seekh le beta. It's our time now.
"Pardon?"
Haan, maafi maangte rehna beta, teri M..
Oh, nothing. Cheers!
The other stories? Maybe next time, mes amis.
*strike*
*drag*
^
*drag*
Oh, I have so much to tell y'all. So much I kept thinking I should share, but never really got round to. Where do I begin? Ah well, anywhere will do I guess.
*drag*
So a couple of months ago, I was invited to a brass band concert. I say 'invited' because it was a formal event, I had to get all dressed up in my suit and pink tie. Yes, pink. The concert was in the Town Hall, the VIP passes were for the best seats in the house, and I do mean the best - on the balcony, right in the centre, where the acoustics are supposed to be better than anywhere else. But before all that, there was a special wine reception for those with VIP invites.
I thought I better get me some of that, if I am to make it through the evening. Honestly, I wasn't particularly excited by the thought of having to sit through a couple of hours of polite clapping at music I didn't really understand, of appearing interested like all the other prim and proper people, of having to behave myself. It's an altogether different matter that by the end, I was almost holding onto the balcony railing and headbanging to the climax of the fantastic O Fortuna from Carmina Burana by Orff.
*drag*
The wine helped, of course. Thank God for fermentation. I was floating through Handel, Mendellsohn, Weber, Brahms, Bach. I was flying through the Hallelujah Chorus, and biting my trembling lower lip through Adagio for Strings. I was picturing myself suddenly standing up, walking on the railing, with arms flailing around, like a conductor. Ah, music and alcohol. Suddenly, I knew more about classical music than anyone else around me. Only I could truly appreciate the little nuances in the compositions, the little half notes and subtle changes in scale. I even had a little Hannibal moment, when one of the guys in the chorus, who looked like Jack from Will and Grace (Just Jack!), began to get on my nerves for singing off key. The old guy next to him was opening his mouth too wide, and I was wincing disapprovingly, like the brilliant Dr. Lecter.
And then came the first strains of O Fortuna.
*drag*
I had been waiting for this all evening. I had said to my colleague during the break (when I duly paid my respects again to fermentation), "Hey, the programme says Carmina Burana. 'O Fortuna' is going to be awesome!"
"Eh?"
"The song from the Old Spice ad."
"Ah..."
And I was not disappointed. Listening to a live chorus and orchestra play that piece was incredible. Everything else seemed to fade away a little bit, and it seemed they were playing just for me. This piece is gothic metal in the guise of respectable western classical music. I was lost. My colleague had to restrain me, reminding me to behave myself because I was in polite company. I said some unprintable stuff and continued headbanging.
*drag*
I sang that chorus all the way home and for the rest of the evening. I searched on the net for songs that included parts of this piece, and played them on loop. I brought out the air guitar and put some serious distortion riffs into the song. It was a night to remember.
No photography or recording equipment was allowed inside, so the only real evidence I have of that evening is a picture of me outside the concert hall, in my suit and pink tie.
I look at that picture and think, "Damn, having music and alcohol inside me even makes me look better..."
*drag*
*flick*
Well, look at that, there was so much I wanted to tell y'all and just one story's taken so long. And I need another one of these.
Oye chote, aur ek cup cutting laa.
"What?"
Haan woich re gore, another pint of Carling, please.
I saw an interesting cartoon in the paper some time ago. It was one of those single-frame strips, where the artist has to be at his most perceptive, and this one was brilliant. One Britisher is telling his colleague, on the way in to work, "I heard an English accent on the train today."
Touche, my friend.
Hum ne angrezi seekhi thi, waisich abhi tu bhi Hindi seekh le beta. It's our time now.
"Pardon?"
Haan, maafi maangte rehna beta, teri M..
Oh, nothing. Cheers!
The other stories? Maybe next time, mes amis.
*strike*
*drag*
^
spouted by Non-Sensei at 12/06/2007 01:42:00 PM
13 comments
