Richibi’s Weblog

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Month: August, 2013

Mozart piano sonata no 11, in A major, K 331

again my especially musically erudite friend,
Norm, has returned with a catchy morsel, a
popularized version this time of the third
movement, the Alla Turca“, of Mozart’s
piano sonata no 11, in A major, K 331
possessed by the glitzy spirit, in this
, of Las Vegas

these whet my appetite always for the entire
meal, the source from which these playful
tidbits originate, like an ebullient tributary
returning to its more elementary, and
profound, as it were, spring, a lost child
needing to return to its place of origin
for direction and validation

Mozart, you’ll note, is not Beethoven, though
he might be a not inconsequential Mozart, I
think of his stuff as music for the nursery,
toy soldiers and rocking horses, dairy maids
and cuckoo clocks, not at all to inform but to
delight, the musical structure is foursquare,
lilting ever, and entirely comprehensible,
Mozart just wants to have fun, with here
and there a nod to melancholy, perfect, I
would think, for a powdered and pampered,
though pilloried eventually, indeed
guillotined then, court

the first movement, you’ll remark, is a set
of variations, a bit of a novelty still during
this period, 1778 to 1783 approximately,
the date of composition is not precisely
known, which allowed for, of course, a
variety of styles, voices, to be flaunted
in one only section of a work, instead
of the usual call and response of,
ordinarily, the traditional movement,
extending already, incidentally, the
possibilities of the sonata form, which
later composers would make much
use of

neither of the next movements are
slow, Mozart, as I said, just wanted
to essentially enjoy himself, or his
sponsors did, music did, that’s
what they payed him for

but the times they were a’ changing

as indeed they still are


psst: thanks Norm

on the evolution of poetry‏


in “T. E. Hulme: The First Modern Poet?“,

Interesting Literature“, a great literary

blog I’m now following, says an awful

lot about the pivot to Modernism in the

early 20th Century, from the earlier

more allusive style of the Romantics,

essentially, the style we now find too 

often affected, and even consequently

irrelevant, the play of a metaphorical

imagination having given way in our

more impatient generations to a 

requirement, for better or for worse,

for “just the facts, ma’am, you’ll have

to put off the roses till there’s time to

properly smell them”, “allusive” has

bitten, it appears, the proverbial dust  



ever respectfully









“Requiem” – Andrew Lloyd Webber‏

a friend sent me a video of an unlikely
international trio wowing the judges
on “America’s Got Talent”, of all
places, with as unlikely a musical
choice, something called Pie Jesu“,
not at all, I thought, prime time
but I was also wowed
the Pie Jesu“, I learned, is one of the
chants in, of all people, Andrew Lloyd
Webber’s Requiem“, to my mind now
his undisputed masterpiece, despite
his other more notable but less
convincing, I thinksuccesses
it consists of a series of chants, much
as movements in music, incidentally,
which is probably where music itself
would originally have copied that
more formal, and decidedly potent, 
the Pie Jesuis the last chant in this
from its stunning, Oscar-ready,
conductrix to its other soaring
musical heights 
but it seems to me that the last part 
as written,the Libera me“, for some
reason or other was not included,
though you’ll find the rest here will
already, and quite triumphantly,
indeed indisputablyperfectly do  
wow, indeed
psst: note the white triangles of the
        hymnals, the music books, like
        origami angels, Miro abstracts,
        or artful representations of,
        indeed, the very Christian
        also, thanks Norm

“Self-Portrait” (1901) – Raoul Dufy, revisited

                    Self-Portrait - Raoul Dufy

                                              Self-Portrait  (1901)  

                                                       Raoul Dufy 



someone suggested that what one saw when

one looked into Dufy’s eyes was a reflection

of oneself, this seems to me to be nearly

incontestable, think about it 




psst: thanks Dorothy