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Trash

Cast: Rooney Mara, Martin Sheen, Wagner Moura, Selton Mello, Andre Ramiro, Jesuita Barbosa

trailer for Trash, directed by Stephen Daldry, screenplay by Richard Curtis, inspired by Andy Mulligan (2014)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Trash [trailer 2]

Cast: Rooney Mara, Martin Sheen, Wagner Moura, Selton Mello, Andre Ramiro, Jesuita Barbosa

trailer for Trash, screenplay by Richard Curtis, inspired by Andy Mulligan (2014)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Marie Claire

Down in the valley, beside the Seine
Where it's cold and damp in the autumn rain,
A couple once opened a restaurant,
And called it the Café d'Aubijon.

The chef was Henri Apollinaire,
His wife, the beautiful Marie Claire,
And Henri worshipped his wife, complete
From her hair right down to her darling feet.

Marie had more of a roving eye
For the guests and the diners, passing by,
While Henri slaved over plates of veal,
Marie saw hearts she would like to steal.

She flirted, fluttered and teased with eyes
That promised much to the less than wise,
She often removed her wedding ring
And leant so close, she was whispering.

She'd show each guest to his tiny room
In the long drawn lull of the afternoon,
Then disappear for an hour or so
While Henri dealt with the guests below.

Then down amongst the crème brûlé,
The Guinea Fowl and the consommé,
The Chef sat brooding about his life,
Breaking his heart for his faithless wife.

So many guests had come and gone
From Caen, Toulouse, from Avignon,
From Brest, Limoux, from Vaux Sur Mer,
He wondered what he was doing there.

But every time that he saw his wife
His heart said: 'She's the love of my life! '
He never would think to challenge her there,
Her loss would shackle him in despair!

A change came suddenly over her
When a guest called André Carpentier
Took up her offer of room and board
And sneered at Henri's estouffade.

Too thin, too thick, the wine was sour,
He sniped, was muttering by the hour,
For nothing was well enough done, by half,
And Marie Claire had begun to laugh.

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Ave Maria No Moro

Ave maria no morro
(written by herivelto martins and m. salinas)
(arranged and performed by scorpions)
Hay un ro, un monte de chocitas chiquititas
Es el morro de los negros, la mansin
Es tan humilde, tan desgraciada y tan sencilla
Ni siquiera una capilla da cobijo para rezar
Pero si vive cerca del cielo y cayera
Y la noche con su manto cubre las chozas que van a amar
All se escucha, al fin del da una plegaria, ave mara
All se escucha, al fin del da una plegaria
Ave mara, ave mara
Aunque no tenga capilla, reza la gente sencilla
Ave mara
All se escucha, al fin del da una plegaria, ave mara
All se escucha, al fin del da una plegaria
Ave mara, ave mara
Aunque no tenga capilla, reza la gente sencilla
Ave mara

song performed by Scorpions
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.

Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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The Hammers

I

Frindsbury, Kent, 1786

Bang!
Bang!
Tap!
Tap-a-tap! Rap!
All through the lead and silver Winter days,
All through the copper of Autumn hazes.
Tap to the red rising sun,
Tap to the purple setting sun.
Four years pass before the job is done.
Two thousand oak trees grown and felled,
Two thousand oaks from the hedgerows of the Weald,
Sussex had yielded two thousand oaks
With huge boles
Round which the tape rolls
Thirty mortal feet, say the village folks.
Two hundred loads of elm and Scottish fir;
Planking from Dantzig.
My! What timber goes into a ship!
Tap! Tap!
Two years they have seasoned her ribs on the ways,
Tapping, tapping.
You can hear, though there's nothing where you gaze.
Through the fog down the reaches of the river,
The tapping goes on like heart-beats in a fever.
The church-bells chime
Hours and hours,
Dropping days in showers.
Bang! Rap! Tap!
Go the hammers all the time.
They have planked up her timbers
And the nails are driven to the head;
They have decked her over,
And again, and again.
The shoring-up beams shudder at the strain.
Black and blue breeches,
Pigtails bound and shining:
Like ants crawling about,
The hull swarms with carpenters, running in and out.
Joiners, calkers,
And they are all terrible talkers.
Jem Wilson has been to sea and he tells some wonderful tales
Of whales, and spice islands,
And pirates off the Barbary coast.
He boasts magnificently, with his mouth full of nails.
Stephen Pibold has a tenor voice,
He shifts his quid of tobacco and sings:

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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The Ballad Of Casey's Billy-Goat

You've heard of "Casey at The Bat,"
And "Casey's Tabble Dote";
But now it's time
To write a rhyme
Of "Casey's Billy-goat."

Pat Casey had a billy-goat he gave the name of Shamus,
Because it was (the neighbours said) a national disgrace.
And sure enough that animal was eminently famous
For masticating every rag of laundry round the place.
For shirts to skirts prodigiously it proved its powers of chewing;
The question of digestion seemed to matter not at all;
But you'll agree, I think with me, its limit of misdoing
Was reached the day it swallowed Missis Rooney's ould red shawl.

Now Missis Annie Rooney was a winsome widow women,
And many a bouncing boy had sought to make her change her name;
And living just across the way 'twas surely only human
A lonesome man like Casey should be wishfully the same.
So every Sunday, shaved and shined, he'd make the fine occasion
To call upon the lady, and she'd take his and coat;
And supping tea it seemed that she might yield to his persuasion,
But alas! he hadn't counted on that devastating goat.

For Shamus loved his master with a deep and dumb devotion,
And everywhere that Casey went that goat would want to go;
And though I cannot analyze a quadruped's emotion,
They said the baste was jealous, and I reckon it was so.
For every time that Casey went to call on Missis Rooney,
Beside the gate the goat would wait with woefulness intense;
Until one day it chanced that they were fast becoming spooney,
When Shamus spied that ould red shawl a-flutter on the fence.

Now Missis Rooney loved that shawl beyond all rhyme or reason,
And maybe 'twas an heirloom or a cherished souvenir;
For judging by the way she wore it season after season,
I might have been as precious as a product of Cashmere.
So Shamus strolled towards it, and no doubt the colour pleased him,
For he biffed it and he sniffed it, as most any goat might do;
Then his melancholy vanished as a sense of hunger seized him,
And he wagged his tail with rapture as he started in to chew.

"Begorrah! you're a daisy," said the doting Mister Casey
to the blushing Widow Rooney as they parted at the door.
"Wid yer tinderness an' tazin' sure ye've set me heart a-blazin',
And I dread the day I'll nivver see me Anniw anny more."
"Go on now wid yer blarney," said the widow softly sighing;
And she went to pull his whiskers, when dismay her bosom smote. . . .
Her ould red shawl! 'Twas missin' where she'd left it bravely drying -
Then she saw it disappearing - down the neck of Casey's goat.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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Aston Martin

24 hour sunset,
I got a tank of gas and...
All the things i can do when driving with you in my aston
(oh oh oh oh!)
It's a perfect chance (oh oh oh oh!)
For some romance (oh oho oh oh!)
With a little luck now baby,
(oh oh oh oh!)
We might get to start
(oh oh oh oh!)
Chorus:
In my aston martin,
(oh oh ooh oh!)
We might get started,
(oh oh ooh oh!)
In my aston martin
(oh oh ooh oh!)
Let's go!
(oh oh ooh oh!)
In my aston martin,
(oh oh ooh oh!)
You can call me darling,
(oh oh ooh oh!)
In my aston martin
(oh oh ooh oh!)
Let's go!
(oh oh ooh oh!)
I love the records playing,
On a late night radio,
Just anticipating how much faster we can go
(oh oh ooh oh!)
It's a perfect chance (oh oh ooh oh!)
For some romance (oh oh ooh oh!)
Got my fingers crossed now baby,
(oh oh ooh oh!)
That we get locked...
(oh oh ooh oh!)
Repeat chorus:
Way down by the sea,
Is where i wanna be,
Way down by the sea,
Is where i wanna be,
Way down by the sea,
(in my aston martin)
Is where i wanna be,
(we might get started)
Way down by the sea,
(in my aston martin)
Is where i wanna be,
Way down by the sea,

[...] Read more

song performed by Kylie Minogue
Added by Lucian Velea
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Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Is In Heaven

Brother Martin was assassinated at a very young age.
Intelligent and determined; he was a wise sage.
I am convinced that he is definitely the only man
In Heaven.

Bro. Martin fought for everybody’s civil rights, regardless of race,
Color, gender, origin, etcetera, etcetera. He is in a better place
Right now, I feel that he is the only man
In Heaven.

Brother Martin was a very dedicated disciple of Jesus Christ,
Who did not fight back, but he was stronger than ice;
He was a peaceful warrior. I know that he is the only man
In Heaven.

There is a lot that one can say and write about this legend.
He had many dreams and great visions, He knew how to blend
Fiction and reality. He was a man of ideas and actions.
Brother Martin is in Heaven working on different transactions.

I want to thank him and his associates for their sacrifices.
Brother Martin is still alive. His dreams are alive under the auspices
Of God’s blessings to fight racism, unfairness and all sorts of inequalities.
Brother Martin is not dead. We shall overcome despite our inabilities.

Jesus died for our sins, but Brother Martin died for things
That benefit all humanities. Let the angels sing, let freedom ring
In every corner of the earth. I am overjoyed to say that Brother Martin
Is in Heaven.

poem by Hebert Logerie (15 January 2012)
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John A Rooney Imports

John A. Rooney Imports is where you will find
hand-crafted imports that are one of a kind.
Hand-carved and hand painted furniture from around the globe
delights the senses, adds a unique appeal to your home.
In the John A. Rooney's department of housewares—
discover kitchen accessories that are unique with a flair.
India and Central America is where beautiful beadwork on tapestry is made
decorate your home with gypsy style to brighten your days.
Rooney's Imports has colorful, soft clothing that flows-
wear unique jewelry made of silver, beads and semiprecious stone.
.Visit John A. Rooney Imports on Lake Avenue today
decorate your home with items from faraway places like Bombay.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on July 1,2012
please visit www.suzae.com www.christinapoems.com

poem by Christina Sunrise
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John A Rooney Imports

John A. Rooney Imports is where you will find
hand-crafted imports that are one of a kind.
Hand-carved and hand painted furniture from around the globe
delights the senses, adds a unique appeal to your home.
In the John A. Rooney's department of housewares—
discover kitchen accessories that are unique with a flair.
India and Central America is where beautiful beadwork on tapestry is made
decorate your home with gypsy style to brighten your days.
Rooney's Imports has colorful, soft clothing that flows-
wear unique jewelry made of silver, beads and semiprecious stone.
Visit John A. Rooney Imports on Lake Avenue today
decorate your home with items from faraway places like Bombay.

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Long Way To Go

We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
Her/His skin wasn't the same color as mine
But she/he was fine, she/he was fine
If all men are made equal
Then she/he was fine, she/he was fine
Up until the time we went out on a date
I was fine, I was fine
Now I'm getting dirty looks, I wonder what they'd say
If we were blind, we were blind people
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
Beauty is beauty, whether it's black or white
Yellow or green baby, you know what I mean
What if Picasso only used one color
There shouldn't be a rule, how to choose your lover
Lovers in love is such a wonderful thing
Maybe in time, we'll get together and sing
I really hope so, there's nothing wrong with this picture
We got a long way to go, we gotta get there quicker
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
What color is love [3x]
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
...that all men are created equal...
...children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by...
...by the color of their skin...
...but by the content of their character...
...this will be the day when all of God's children...

[...] Read more

song performed by Gwen Stefani
Added by Lucian Velea
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Long Way To Go (feat. Andr 3000)

We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
Her/His skin wasn't the same color as mine
But she/he was fine, she/he was fine
If all men are made equal
Then she/he was fine, she/he was fine
Up until the time we went out on a date
I was fine, I was fine
Now I'm getting dirty looks, I wonder what they'd say
If we were blind, we were blind people
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
Beauty is beauty, whether it's black or white
Yellow or green baby, you know what I mean
What if Picasso only used one color
There shouldn't be a rule, how to choose your lover
Lovers in love is such a wonderful thing
Maybe in time, we'll get together and sing
I really hope so, there's nothing wrong with this picture
We got a long way to go, we gotta get there quicker
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
What color is love [3x]
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
We've got a long way to go
When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come
We've got a long way to go
It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer
...that all men are created equal...
...children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by...
...by the color of their skin...
...but by the content of their character...
...this will be the day when all of God's children...

[...] Read more

song performed by Gwen Stefani
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sestina: A bird in the bamboo

The potter carried home a broken plate
and passing through a grove of tall bamboo,
some thing within disturbed the verdant sheen.
Intrigued, he stopped awhile to rest and wait.
A bird shot skyward, straight as arrow true,
turned somersaults and plunged back into green.

The bird had left the safety of the green,
to see from high the land as coloured plate.
An overview, to give perspective true.
Imprint in mind a map of home's bamboo
and then to hide and rest in patient wait,
before an insect hunt by thin moon's sheen.

The potter's wife delighted in the sheen,
of jagged shards of crackle-glazed jade green.
With supper not quite ready, while he wait,
he set about to mend the shattered plate.
When laid beside their wares of plain bamboo,
it's beauty shone and both declared this true.

The potter was perfectionist, it's true,
who long had strived to replicate the sheen,
of leafy shades of celadon bamboo.
One day, the kiln revealed translucent green.
The pottery's proud owner chose a plate,
as gift to Empress, hopeful then to wait.

Official staff with retinue in wait,
by Emperor's decree paid tribute true.
A portered chair arrived of fine gold-plate,
to honour maker of such lovely sheen.
Asway, the potter turned a sickly green
and gripped the shouldered poles of stout bamboo.

In city, thoughts returned to tall bamboo
and how it seemed the bird could hardly wait,
to fly back home within the dappled green.
The potter's mind was strong, his heart was true.
He learned of commerce, trade and coin's sheen,
but dreamt of home and wife and mended plate.

Back home, at last, amongst the green bamboo,
rich plate collectors, clothed in silken sheen,
confirmed that true rewards are worth the wait.

poem by Diane Hine
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Millionaire (feat. Andre 3000)

(feat. Andre 3000)
[Andre 3000:]
I said her from the city so her got to witty, witty
She said him from the country so him got to be funky, funky
[Andre 3000:]
Mama i'ma Millionaire but I feel like a bum.
Mama i'ma Millionaire but I feel like the only one.
I,I,I,I woke up early this mornin,
I don't think ya'll heard me,
I woke up early this mornin,
I don't think ya'll heard me,
I woke up early this mornin.
I don't think think ya'll heard me,
I woke up early this mornin, but i still ain't seen the sun.
[Andre 3000

song performed by Kelis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hey Ya

[Intro]
One two three go!
[Verse One - Andre 3000]
My baby don't mess around
Because she loves me so
And this I know fo shooo..
Uh, But does she really wanna
But can't stand to see me
Walk ou the dooo..
Don't try to fight the feelin'
'cause the thought alone is killing me right nooww..
Uh, thank god for mom and dad
For sticking two together
'Cause we don't know hooowww...
UH!
[Chorus]
Heeeyyy... Yaaaaaaa..
Heeyy Yaaaaaaaa..
Heeeyyy... Yaaaaaaa..
Heeyy Yaaaaaaaa..
Heeeyyy... Yaaaaaaa..
Heeyy Yaaaaaaaa..
Heeeyyy... Yaaaaaaa..
Heeyy Yaaaaaaaa..
[Verse Two - Andre 3000]
You think you've got it
Ohh, you think you've go it
But got it just don't get it
Till' there's nothing at
AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaallllll..
We've been together
Ohh, we've been together
But separate's always better when there's feelings
InvooooooOOOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOooooooOOOOOlved
If what they say is ("Nothing lasts forever")
Then what makes, Then what makes, Then what makes
Then what makes, Then what makes: love the exception?
So why oh, why oh
Why oh, why oh, why oh are we so in denial
When we know we're not happy heeeerrreeee...
Y'all in here, you just wanna dance!
[Chorus]
Heeeyyy... Yaaaaaaa.. (OHH OH)
Heeyy Yaaaaaaaa.. (OHH OH)
Heeeyyy... Yaaaaaaa.. (Don't want to meet your daddy, OHH OH)
Heeyy Yaaaaaaaa.. (Just want you in my Caddy OHH OH)
Heeeyyy... Yaaaaaaa.. (OHH OH, don't want to meet yo' mama OHH OH)
Heeyy Yaaaaaaaa.. (Just wan't to make you cumma OHH OH)
Heeeyyy... Yaaaaaaa.. (I'm, OHH OH I'm, OHH OH)
Heeyy Yaaaaaaaa.. (I'm just being honest OHH OH, I'm just being honest)

[...] Read more

song performed by Outkast
Added by Lucian Velea
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She Lives In My Lap

[Intro: Rosario Dawson]
[laughter]
What's wrong? What are you afraid of?
The Love Below
[Verse 1: Andre 3000]
She stays alone, never sheds a single tear
She stays in the coolest moods, clearly woman of the year
She and all her girlfriends, they go out dressed to win
She comes back to the cooler side of town
but she lives in my lap
[Chorus: Andre 3000]
She lives in my lap [repeat 6X]
Forever my fiance
She lives in my lap
Don't need no chain
She lives in my lap
I'll get the courage one day
[Verse 2: Andre 3000]
Make me want you, make me miss you
make me wonder where you are, then forget you
Girl remind me, just who we are
We're oh so close, but yet so far
[Interlude]
[Rosario Dawson:] Baby why are you acting like this?
I don't care about any of them...
I care about you!
Baby I Love you!
[Andre 3000:] You've got me open wide (I love you)
Just Come inside (baby)
It's yours (it's yours)
I'm yours (i'm yours)
For sure (for sure)
Play baby play...
[Chorus + interlude + scratching til fade...]

song performed by Outkast
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mara

A dry leaf scrapes across dry clay
giving Mara's game away.

The clock cuts into hours each day
to keep Eternity at bay.

Eternity outwaits the clock
and Mara's game is back on track.

The master-key clicks shut the lock
which stops the clock from turning back.

Leaf and clay must
meet in dust.

(And Mara's game is back on track.)

poem by Brian Taylor
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Mara

I am your own flesh and blood and,
Like one of the seventy sons of Yerubaal;
But your kinfolk came in and sacked me,
So go and tell this young woman that i love her.

It is like the memories of you and i,
And like anarmed man of war!
But i see no guns around you my love.

Oh, how the wind came and whispered your name to me;
For you are called Mara in the land of love and,
All the roses of love do kiss you.

Hip and thigh,
I am now seeking for your protection;
For we are both not yet married and,
The summer blues is all around us.

He was unmarried and i am not,
But the violence and the ruthless people do sing;
And with the sincerity of my heart to love you,
For i will always come to you with my love.

You can still pass on a righteous gene,
For it is a great joy to hear from you;
And it is a great joy to know you oh Mara.

Unlawful lust and sexual sins,
And of the four thousand year period with a malak;
But you are Mara in the land of love and,
You know the right from the worng on this earth.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Making Sense Of Sound

SENSE OF SOUND

In Plato’s time fools used to say
there are no rules for music that you play.
Being law-abiding when you write
a piece of music often won’t excite
the fools who will demand of you to break
its laws, while claiming that the word mistake
doe not apply to music. It is pleasure
that’s their bottom line, every measure
composed in any manner the composer
may wish. I do not want to be imposer
of any law that may inhibit your
ability to write, but I feel sure
that ultimately it is only fools
who break in music, as in life, all rules.

In music as in life there’s right and wrong,
and both of them, in order to last long,
must follow norms, as Plato once declared.
a view that by this poet now is shared,
while hoping antinomians are not friendless,
like Wagner making melody that’s endless.
Music is a stock that never should be shorted.
Like any lover that you may have courted,
it follows rules on which you should go long,
avoiding dissonances that sound wrong,
except for all the ones that are resolved
like problems that in life that have been solved.
Only by preventing disappearance
of rules can life-like music reach coherence.

Inspired by Plato, cited in “Making Sense of Sound, ” by James F. Penrose in the WSJ, January 27,2010, reviewing Ruth Katz’s “A Language of Its Own, ” describing a grammar of music that evolved over the centuries without any overt instruction, giving an internal coherence to music and allowing it to adapt to cultural and social change, with a shared understanding between musicians and audiences. Penrose writes;

“Through foolishness they deceived themselves into thinking that there was no right or wrong way in music, that it was to be judged good or bad by the pleasure that it gave.” With these words Plato complained about the “promiscuous cleverness and a spirit of law-breaking” that characterized the music of the time—the fourth century B.C. Even then, it seems, music had a form and structure that guided its composition and performance, for “law-abiding” musicians anyway…. Beethoven, in Mr. Katz’s view, never damaged the system of harmonic tonality and “integrated” form, for all his iconoclasm. But a succession of composers––including Schumann, Liszt and, above all, Wagner––chipped away at coherence by preparing unprepared and unresolved chords, chromatic alterations, and above all modulations into remote keys. With his “unendlische Melodie (infinite melody) and other devices, Wagner savaged traditional musical structures even as he created astonishingly beautiful music. The gulf between past and present widened as the 20th century progressed––but there were pockets of resistance, Ms. Katz observes. Debussy joined the moderns in rebelling against the constraints of harmonic tonality but found coherence in modal forms and in melodic tonality. Composers like Bartok, Ravel and Janacek, though also pushing the boundaries of traditional harmony, appealed to the ear by retaining crucial elements of traditional tonality… [Ms Katz] is hopeful that musical tradition can regain its footing, perhaps by recreating the “abstracting” process that allowed Wesstern music, despite its inability to describe what it does, to beguile and fascinate us for so long.

1/27/10

poem by Gershon Hepner
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