MUSIC YOU’LL NEVER LISTEN TO/TV YOU’LL NEVER WATCH REVIEW
by James MacLaren
Strauss Gala/Univision
Wiener Philharmoniker/Your Livingroom tv
Willi Boskovsky/Unknown and or Various
London (PolyGram)/The Usual Suspects (Soap, Soda, Suchlike)</b>
So of course it’s the middle of the day on Saturday and you’ve only been awake
for just a little while but you’re already bored. The X-Games are on ESPN, but
how many times can you watch some guy on a skateboard take a bone-breaking fall
before that wears a little thin?
Idea.
Go get the cd’s and dig out the Strauss Gala. All three brothers. Joseph,
Johann, and Edward. In the liner notes there’s a little woodcut-looking
illustration of the trio, doing some kind of Teutonic boogie, arm in arm on top
of a large, recumbent fiddle, with a swarm of exotic musical notes flying in the
air around their heads. That’s pretty much all you need to know right there.
Flick the tv to Univision. Saturday mornings and afternoons are especially good
on Univision. Be sure and mute the sonofabitch. You can’t understand what
they’re dancing around and singing about anyway, so it’s not like you’re missing
anything.
Turn on the cd player and sit back and listen to the Strauss boys give it the
business.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
A comparison and contrast essay, if you will.
When Germans (Austrians, Germans, it’s all the same) decide to have a little
musical disvertissment, they do it in their own inimitable style. The Strauss
boys typify this peculiarly rigid method of doing the fandango as well as
anybody. Everything is all tightly controlled and reined in while simultaneously
there’s a certain madness that underlies the whole operation at all times.
On Univision it’s almost the exact opposite. Nothing is reined in or controlled.
Loony color schemes and bizarre costumery compete with one another to see which
can give you a headache first. And yet, underneath it all, there’s a pattern, an
order. But it’s well hidden and you have to look for it.
The two go together exceptionally well.
While Strauss is doing a polka (no, not the Myron Florin kind) and the orchestra
is blazing away like crazed gerbils on every instrument you’ve ever heard of and
a few you haven’t (up to and including the odd blast or two from a hunting
rifle), there’s a lady on Univision sashaying around in some kind of evening
gown that looks like it was designed jointly by Larry Flynt and NASA.
Madam Gown is singing. On a stage that looks like it wishes it was the sign in
front of some gaudy Las Vegas casino. Lotsa lights. Extremely saturated primary
(for the most part) colors.
Strauss is banging on a piece of railroad track, among other things.
Madam Gown gestures extravagantly to her audience. The audience gestures back.
With brightly-colored pompons. Somebody handing out pompons at the door? What’s
up with that?
Strauss shifts gears and swoons through a syrupy mix of strings and muted french
horns.
Madam Gown flounces to the back of the stage and makes eyes at her backup band.
The boys in the band are dressed just as flamboyantly as can be and eyeball Miss
Gown right back. Leers all around. No shortage of silk, kerchiefs, or sequins
here. Nice hats, too. Even the conga drums are dressed up for the occasion.
Down in the fundament of my loins, I can feel the kidney stone that I was afraid
I might pass with great pain, shuddering and dissolving under the onslaught of
this cultural bouillabaisse. This is powerful stuff. Better take it easy and lay
off here pretty soon. Don’t wanna overdo it.
Strauss has found the fowling piece once again and is using it with abandon.
Madam Gown has been replaced by some huckster extolling the virtues of some damn
thing or other, mike in hand.
Time to cut the power and maybe go check the surf.