For years, I’ve been griping about videos—how music spoils them. Sports videos, in particular, are spoiled by music. You can never hear the sounds of sports: the crack of a bat; the squeak of shoes on a basketball court; the whoosh of a golf swing.
I can always watch videos with the sound muted. But I would rather hear the sounds of sports. And you know where muting does no good? In an instructional video. There’ll be a couple of golfers talking about the short game, for instance. And I’ll want to hear what they’re saying.
But in order to hear them, I have to put up with the music playing over them. And sometimes the music is so loud, you can barely hear what the guys are saying.
Maddening. Why do people commit such sabotage?
Well … the other day, the algorithm fed me a video that was music to my ears. There was no music at all. Just the music of golf, so to speak. Jack Drury playing nine holes early in the morning.
He is a pro at the Stratford-on-Avon Golf Club in Stratford-upon-Avon, England. (I believe a writer once lived there.) Why does the name of the club have “on” in it while the name of the city has “upon” in it? No idea. Maybe I can get back to you on that one.
In any event, thank you, Jack Drury, for this glorious, music-free video.
***
Stay in the United Kingdom for a minute. I received a lovely note from a reader that began, “Hello from Scotland!” Here is part of my reply:
Ignoring the “Nordlinger,” I am Scottish, on my mother’s side—name is Gray. Where in Scotland are you?
She answered,
I live in Perth, the gateway to the Highlands. It’s a great place to live.
So, at this late date, I have learned that the city in Australia was named after a city in Scotland.
***
In recent times, there has been turmoil on the American right concerning Indian Americans. “Culture warriors” grumble that there are too many, and that they are too successful, and that they—heaven forbid!—study for spelling bees …
I addressed this in a column ten days ago. I would now like to share a letter from a reader—Warren S. Moore III, who is a professor of English at Newberry College in South Carolina.
WSM3 is one of my favorite correspondents.
He writes,
… I was a participant in the 1979 National Spelling Bee, representing the Kentucky Post. Back then, contestants were sponsored by the local Scripps-Howard paper. …
Although I went out on the first day, crashing on timbrel (which I spelled “timbral”—those schwas will get you every time), it proved to be one of the better experiences of my life to that point. Because I was an unusual kid, I had a lot of difficulty fitting in with my peers. For that week at the Bee, however, I was someplace where it was cool to be—let’s say “bookish.” I actually got to be popular for a few days, and that may have been one of the things that got me through adolescence: the knowledge that there were niches for folks like me.
In fact, I remain friends with some of my fellow spellers from that year, almost 50 years later. …
As a side note, I don’t watch the Bee—having been on the stage, I hurt too much for the kids when they go out. But I have no problem with the fact that the Bee has become (as an Indian stand-up comic called it) “the Indian-American Super Bowl.” I love that those kids are finding places where they can belong as well. And that strikes me as especially American.
My eyes got a little wet when I read that.
Warren signs off, “Keep on ‘truckin’.” And his motto comes from Chaucer: “Gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche.”
***
“Go ahead, make my day,” says a movie character. Well, readers often do this for me, as here:
Hi, Jay,
Just thought I’d let you know I learned a bit of language while reading your column yesterday. I’m in my late 70s but am still thrilled whenever I can correct lifelong errors.
You write: “On Monday, Trump was rallying in Ohio in behalf of Jon Husted, the Republican senator.” Something seemed strange in that sentence, and I read it again. Then it occurred to me that I’ve always said “on behalf.” So I did an Internet search asking whether there is a difference in meaning between “in behalf” and “on behalf.” Lo and behold, I discovered there is! I never knew of that distinction. Naturally, you used the correct phrase, given the meaning you intended.
Thanks for the lesson!
Sometimes, I think that my living has not been in vain.
***
Feel like a music review? I was fairly hard on the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra and its chief conductor, Kirill Petrenko. Let me quote from my final paragraph:
I think the world of the BPO and Petrenko, and have the highest expectations for them. I do not write about them as I would the Dubuque Sinfonietta.
Nope.
***
Feel like another music review? This one is of the Philadelphia Orchestra, under Yannick Nézet-Séguin, which played Mahler’s Symphony No. 5. My final paragraph:
Did your grandmother or someone else in your life ever say about cooking, “The special ingredient is love”? So it is in Mahler. He was not a lovely man, according to ample testimony, but there must have been reserves of love in him, which he poured into his art. He headed one movement, of a different symphony, “What love tells me.” Bless all those who get him, including the Quebecker on the podium last night.
***
I Googled a recording of Fidelio conducted by Toscanini. (Fidelio is the lone opera of Beethoven, and Arturo Toscanini was a great conductor of the first half of the 20th century.) I smiled at the name of the man in charge of the recording’s restoration: Neville Churchill.
Seems almost like a mistake, doesn’t it? In any case, a remarkable combo.
***
“Martina Arroyo, Luminous Soprano Who Broke Barriers, Dies at 90.” That obit is here. I loved this woman. Met her once in an elevator. Bantered with her. She was amazingly personable.
Listen to what she said back in ’72:
If people think a kind of magic happens on stage, they ought to know that what they’re seeing is a lot of work. To me, “charisma” is just a fancy word for rehearsals. And if I catch you using the word “effortless” about me, I’ll laugh in your face. Maria Callas was the classic example of what I’m after. She worked for hours, but when she came out on the stage, you felt not only that you were hearing the words for the first time, but that she was singing them for the first time—neither of which was so. Every miracle that was known as a “Callas miracle” was a well‐rehearsed miracle.
Yeah, but don’t let Martina fool you. She, like Callas and all the others, had talent out the yan (as well as an exemplary work ethic).
***
I have a couple of young friends who are students of conducting. I asked one of them, “How are you doing?” She said, “I’m drowning in scores.” I said, “If you have to drown—what a great sea to drown in. A sea of music.”
And I thought of “L’infinito,” the classic poem by Leopardi. Its final lines are:
… Così tra questa
immensità s’annega il pensier mio:
e ’l naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare.
Something like: “Thus, in the midst of this immensity, my thought drowns. And the shipwrecking is sweet to me in this sea.”
Have I thanked you lately for reading and subscribing? I think it’s been a few days. Too long! Thank you, and see you later.