Schoenberg's quip

CHRIS FARLEY to PAUL MCCARTNEY: Remember when you were in the Beatles ... you did that album Abbey Road ...  [where] ... the song goes "And in the end the love you take equals to the love you make"?  Remember that?
PAUL MCCARTNEY: Yes.
CHRIS FARLEY: Is that true?
The Chris Farley Show, Saturday Night Live
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A quip is not quite the same as a line of poetry, and I certainly do not intend to be funny by questioning the factual basis of  Arnold Schoenberg's often mentioned quip:

My music is not modern, it is just badly played.

What did Schoenberg have in mind when he spoke of his music as "badly played"?  Technical defects of execution, such as wrong notes, faulty intonation, or poor ensemble?  Unacceptable deviations from clearly stated instructions in the score regarding tempo, dynamics, or phrasing?

PERVERT... FELON... NATIONAL TREASURE

It took Alan Turing only a couple of years to solve the Entscheidungsproblem (Decision Problem) in a branch of mathematics later to become part of theoretical computer science (along with developing the most convincing mathematical model of computability known today as the Turing machine).
 
It took Great Britain 67 long shameful years before the Bank of England could make this decision ...

I'll have an extra bourbon tonight.

No better way of putting it

It is from performances like this that one realizes that the music of Elliott Carter offers pleasures and delights that no other composer can offer.

CHARLES ROSEN
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Charles Rosen's observation was made about a commercial recording of Carter's Cello Concerto, but is also a perfect description of this 2009 live broadcast from Berlin's Philharmonie of Carter's Interventions for piano and orchestra with Daniel Barenboim as soloist and Pierre Boulez conducting the Staatskapelle Berlin.

From tragedy to farce and back to tragedy, all in a single word

First the tragedy:

29 April 2019, JACKSONVILLE, ARK. (AP)

A baby died after escaping from a truck while visiting a central Arkansas military base for a family event.

Not really a newsworthy tragedy since millions of babies die every year all over the world.  Still, it must have been a tragic event for the baby's relatives and at least a traumatic one for those present at the mentioned family event.

Except that it wasn't because in the above quoted sentence I omitted one word.  Here is the complete headline as it was published by AP (italics mine):

A baby kangaroo died after escaping from a truck while visiting a central Arkansas military base for a family event.

Now start with the trivial observation that kangaroos can no more visit family events at military bases than they can visit friends in state prisons or grandparents in retirement homes.  Then count the questions one can ask about the meaning of this sentence.  If you think of language as a biological organism's most important evolutionary gift, this brief exercise will take you right back to what you started with: the tragedy of death, albeit this time the rapidly approaching death of language.

Giving the C-word its due

chasm, n.,

a deep fissure in the earth, rock, or another surface;

 figurative.  a profound difference between people, viewpoints, feelings, etc.
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In her review of a recent Netflix web series, Sophie Gilbert, a staff writer for The Atlantic, tells us that

... it’s hard to square the chasm between the philosophical comedy the show begins as and the discomfiting farce it becomes. (italics added) 1

Perhaps Ms Gilbert's observation reflects her conviction that, in this era of endless possibilities, we should be doing a lot more with chasms than just bridging or closing them.  If so, I'm one of those not yet convinced.  But if she proves to be right, I would love to learn how to sauté a chasm.  Especially the chasm between the supposedly high reputation of The Atlantic and the magazine's employment of incompetent scribblers like Sophie Gilbert.

Sadly, Ms Gilbert's illiteracy may not be her only professional shortcoming.  She also seems genuinely dimwitted for someone paid to spill her thoughts on the pages of a reputable magazine.  On her website she has a section where she shares with the world what people have said about her.  And the quote she proudly puts first is "Finally! A woman." 2

I leave it to you, my dear reader, to decide what should be done with the chasm between a writer's pride in the acclaim received by her work and Sophie Gilbert's pride in being praised for having two X chromosomes.

The limits of omniscience

I can't remember when was the last time I heard Beethoven's Pathétique sonata.  Must have been long ago.  But of course I still love this work, even if I do so the way we love Grandpa's stories of wars fought, women loved, and men bested.  We've heard these stories often since early childhood, know them by heart, and while we continue to think of them with affection, we'd rather not hear them again any time soon.

But lets pretend I do want to hear the Pathétique again, and imagine that God - the Supreme Music Lover - decided to reward my continuing affection for this piece by offering to take me back in time and arrange for me to hear this sonata performed by one of the following pianists (all known to have performed it in public recitals or private gatherings):

Ludwig van Beethoven
Felix Mendelssohn
Franz Liszt
Clara Schumann
Hans von Bülow
Anton Rubinstein

There would be no deliberation on my part.  I would ask the Almighty to let me hear Beethoven's performance.  This much I know.  What I do not know is why I would choose a performance I have no reason to believe would be musically the most rewarding one.  For one thing, Beethoven's playing could be sloppy.  Describing his performance of the Pathétique, his friend Anton Schindler noted that it "left something to be desired as regards clean playing".  On top of that,  Beethoven's highly theatrical projection of music - banging fortes, fluctuating tempos, wild gesticulation - would likely make him sound like a musical drama queen to my ears.[1]  And if I wanted to hear a messy performance of the Pathétique by a drama queen (which I don't), I could do better by asking God to take me to an Anton Rubinstein recital.

It is tempting to think that I would choose Beethoven's performance of his own work because it would have the absolute authenticity (Werktreue) denied to all other interpreters of his music.  But that's just comforting nonsense if only because Beethoven did not always play his own music exactly as written.[2]  So, unless 'authenticity' is taken as equivalent to the vacuous 'whatever Beethoven happened to play on a given occasion', his performance of the Pathétique could be no more 'authentic' than those of other musicians.[3]

Perhaps it is not Beethoven's performance I would really be after.  Perhaps I would choose it only to observe in the flesh the man I consider to be the most fascinating personality in the history of music.  But that can't be right either.  The personality of Beethoven-the-man has been pretty well documented, and there is nothing fascinating about a swarthy, rude egomaniac whose personal hygiene was as appalling as the squalor of his living quarters.  What is fascinating, of course, is Beethoven's musical personality which comes through all those brutal dynamic contrasts, surprising modulations, unbearably tense transitions, noble hymnal themes, and other aspects of his compositional style.  And that personality can be observed without any help from God by studying scores, attending recitals, or listening to recordings.

In the end I think I would ask God for an alternative reward.  I would say to Him: Dear God, I will be amply rewarded if You just tell me why, given Your original offer, I would choose Beethoven's performance.  And the omniscient Creator would reply: