ALT: Hannibal Lecter Winks in Silence Of The Lambs

More autumn music today. My old friend Robert would have loved this one...and actually, I'm sure he did. Gerald Finzi was one of his favorite composers, and Finzi did not have a large output, by any means. He was more prolific as a choral and vocal composer, but he did produce a small amount of orchestral music and after he died at only 55 years of age (ooof, that's my age, you notice these things more as you get older, I've discovered) he left behind a number of unfinished works that a good friend of his, composer Howard Ferguson, edited and orchestrated.

Earlier today I saw someone on social media express their consternation that as prep for a disco-themed party, they and a few others watched Saturday Night Fever, looking for outfit inspiration and some groovy Bee Gees action and dancing. They discovered, much to their chagrin, that SNF is a dark and cynical drama that just happens to be set in and around a disco and disco culture in 1977 Brooklyn. What they wanted was the movie that many people nowadays think SNF is: a fun and goofy movie about party people in a disco.

I supported the death penalty when I was a teenager, but I stopped during my senior year. I remember my parents discussing it on occasion; my mother supported it while my father did not. My stance was pro-capital punishment, initially. But then two things happened that pushed me into the "anti" camp, and for the most part, that's where I've remained. The first thing was one day my physics teacher, Mr. Eaton, talked about it. Mr. Eaton was a fun guy and he knew his physics, but he also tended to go off-topic in his classes.

How does the judging work in this sport? Actually, on second thought, don't tell me.

This is a test. Something weird happened with the publishing of today's Something for Thursday post, and I'm making sure it was a weird one-off.

Many years ago, when I was but a "yoot" and I was taking piano lessons, my teacher--a lovely old lady named Margaret Hooker--invited me, along with several other students, to go see a piano duet that was making the rounds. I don't remember their names, sadly; I'd like to look them up, but I have no idea where I'd ever start to try to look. They played on two gigantic Boesendorfer pianos that weren't content to stand with 88 keys; no, these monsters had 92 keys. The new ones were way down at the left end, at the very bottom of the register, and they were all four colored black so as to help the pianists maintain their place.

HEY!!! Just a reminder, since I haven't shared one in a little while, that in addition to all the other places I share content, I also have a newsletter! And there's a new installment from just yesterday, a feature I call "And Now, a Photo", in which I share a photo of mine that might be older or maybe isn't one that I would feature on my Photo Gallery Instagram but which I still think is interesting or useful in some way. Check it out and subscribe! It's not just photography over there, after all. I have more coming! Wazzat? Oh yeah, the link. Here you go!

Here we have a student piece written by a young composer, when he was only 19 years of age. But not just any composer: it's 20th century Russian great Sergei Prokofiev. Prokofiev is, I admit, something of a tough nut for me. I don't always respond readily to his music, for one reason or another. But this piece grabbed me immediately, perhaps because it is to my ears a fascinating blend of lyric Romanticism and of atmospheric Impressionism. I hear a wild melding of Tchaikovsky and Ravel here, and that is absolutely amazing to me.

YouTube video by Katie Phang

The Wife and I just got back yesterday from a long weekend in Rochester, Ithaca, and the Finger Lakes. We have been going there more or less annually (we missed a couple of years because of reasons) s...

YouTube video by BetaGems Lost Media

A traveler who was infected with the contagious disease was in Terminals B, C, D, F and E on the night of Sunday, Sep. 13.

Fifty-five is kind of a strange number, isn't it? It feels significant, but I'm damned if I can figure out why. It's not halfway to anything in particular. Maybe it's lingering from 55 being the upper speed limit on American roads for many years...and really, how did they choose that number, anyway? Why 55? Why not 50, or 60? How did they land on 55? It gave Mr. Hagar a nice rhyme for his classic song, sure...but I don't know why 55 other than that. (Maybe if I actually looked it up, there's a good reason.)

OK, here we go! We just got back from our annual trip to Ithaca for Apple Fest, and I also just turned another year older, so I'll get back in the swing with this, a Quiz. 1. If you were trapped in a TV universe for a month, what TV show would you choose? If I had to actually live in a teevee universe for a month? Am I actually hobnobbing with the cast, or am I just some Joe Schmo living there? Normally I'd take an easy way here with…

It's FALL, y'all! So here's a fall song. No, the leaves aren't turning yet, except for a single tree here and there where the color is starting to nibble around the edges...but Nat King Cole is never really out of season, is he?