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Rock Schlock and Barrel

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When I was young, we didn’t have a working radio. As a result I didn’t have any fave rock groups as I was growing up. By the time I was introduced to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and the Doors, I was well into my twenties.

Even then, I never really liked the whole rock ethos, that whole thing where gaunt hippies pranced onstage while wielding electric guitars. Moreover, I never liked electric guitars. So, in effect, there never was a time when I could say that so and so was the music of my youth. I never had much music of any kind in my youth.

Then, when I was in my thirties, I discovered classical music right around the same time the compact disk (CD) came into being. A few years later, I finally learned to drive at the age of forty and discovered the classical music stations KFAC-FM and KUSC-FM. KFAC switched to Pop Music in 1989; so all I ever listen to on the radio today is KUSC.

Come to think of it, I never listen to Pop Music either. I have never yet heard any Taylor Swift songs. What floats my boat is Mahler, Sibelius, Bruckner, Dvorak, and Wagner.

I guess that makes me rather atypical for my generation. My cohort is busy listening on PBS to Peter, Paul & Mary concerts. Fortunately, I’m okay with that.

Mozart on the 405

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The San Diego Freeway (I-405) at Night

My two best friends each live 25 miles away: Bill K, in Altadena; and Peter J, in San Pedro. This afternoon I drove to San Pedro and discussed a film idea with Peter, whom I think is the ideal person to do a film about the whole hippie scene in Southern California in the late 1960s.

On the way back, I was listening to KUSC-FM. They were playing Mozart’s Requiem Mass in D, K. 626. Although I feel most partial to the 19th century romantic composers, Mozart strikes me as almost Godlike in the perfection of his music. The Requiem was composed in the last year of the composer’s life (1791) and eerily foresees his own upcoming death in abject poverty. There is a solemn magnificence to the Mass.

I felt quite strange driving in the L.A. traffic on the 405 at dusk, seeing the cars in front of, beside, and behind me almost as if they were notes in the symphony.

Frequently, I am powerfully moved by classical music. Pop music? Not at all. As I ascended the stairs to my apartment, my neighbor was playing some Mexican pop music that went BOOM BOOM BOOM with assorted moans and cries. No, there is no doubt where my preference lies.

How To Survive Tax Season

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Classical Music Is the Key

Classical Music Is the Key

Now that I am working seven days a week (at my advanced age), there are several methods I use just to survive to April 18. (Yes, that is the deadline date this year. Don’t ask why!)

First of all, I no longer listen to the news on the radio on my way to and from work—especially in a presidential election year, when the news is likely to be all bad. Instead, I turn the dial to KUSC-FM at 91.5 and listen to classical music. Bach, Mozart, Brahms, Dvorak, Bruckner, Wagner—that’s what I need to calm me down.

The last time some  guy tried to sell me a hip-hop CD on the beach, I told him I only listen to music by dead white guys who wore powdered wigs. And that’s not far from the truth.

My second coping mechanism is to read a good long book, preferably humorous. This year, that role is being filled by Albert Cohen’s magnificent Belle de Seigneur, which I am reading for the Yahoo! French Literature group. It is a near perfect selection.