I just got out of the shower. [Si, es temprano–casi las nueve, pero The Apprentice is on tonight, and it’s really long, so I figured I’d go early.]
After lathering up and stuff, I started thinking about how, on the way back from my chiropractor appointment, I heard Charles Ives on the radio and actually recognized his style. I could hear the disjointed piano chords, whose placements probably make perfect sense; I could hear those “threads” of three-note noodles that GNHYO used a synthesizer for, played on a violin–remember that cellist-conductor with the incongruent accent who was talking about flannel?; I could definitely recognize the *noise*–>*short silence*–>”bell, timpani”–>*more noise* pattern. It turned out that it was his Sketches of Small New England Towns suite, or something.
My exuberance peeved Dwee. ^.^ Poor Dwee. Deprived of her KC101.3 everytime I bloop into the car.
So when I was showering, I turned on the shower radio. The piece had a distinctly-Dvorak tune–I would swear that it was an exact quote from his New World Symphony; if not, then Mahler’s Titan. But then.
The *noise with crazy trumpets blaring* struck me, and so did the *lush melody that definitely doesn’t belong in the march-like character of the rest of the piece* and *really, really twistly little rhythm* as did the *fife+drum* combo.
But that stupid Dvorak theme stopped me from thinking, “This is Charles Ives!” Also, there were all those woodwind solos that sounded so Dvorak.
Turns out that it was Charles Ives, indeed–his Second Symphony, which makes sense, since he composed about distinctly American sounds, and Dvorak tried to.
Then Dwee popped in and pointed at the radio with a peeved prodding look on her face. Poor Dwee.
Apprentice time! For once, I don’t hate either of the finalists. Tee.