a rubdown, a rinse, a ruckus – part II

mozart is not one of my favorite composers.  it has to do with him being so goddamn perfect all the time.  frankly, i still question whether he was actually a human being.  [well, if he says he’s human, then i guess he’s a human, but…]  c’mon: 41 symphonies, 27 piano concertos, 22 operas, hundreds (hundreds!) of other brilliant compositions all before his 36th birthday?  and then there’s no body left?!  no grave?!?  hmm…

alright, so the beavs is a mozart birther questioning wolfie’s human citizenship.  everyone’s entitled to their own conspiracy theory, right?  i haven’t a shred of doubt, however, about the soloist i witnessed with my own beady eyes and furry ears last weekend.  jeffrey kahane (a sort of gene wilder/shawn wallace mash-up) bounded onto the schnitzer stage, beaming and bowing before taking his place in front of the mighty steinway keyboard.  the next half-an-hour unfolded smoothly and sweetly, gently steeped in sheer joyfulness.  for me, the surprising highlight of the night was the middle movement coming real close to triple concerto status… maestro kahane on piano, ms. sindell on flute, and ms. wagner on oboe: an equilateral triangle of musical precision and heart-warming tenderness (backed by the best band in stumpland).  ahh.  i have to admit that after the r-v-dub rubdown at the start of the program, mozart’s divine music was the perfect purification, scrubbing the soul squeaky clean.


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