Maria Tipo: Mozart - Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major K 467 (Mozarteum O...
To my disgrace, I had never heard of Maria Tipo before I found this her version of the Mozart 21st piano concerto, which in my estimation surpasses even Artur Rubenstein's. I think that I perhaps agree with François Couperin that women are just naturally better clavecinistes than men--and in general perhaps therefore are (yes, I can admit it), over all, better than men. Although, generally speaking, of course, I still find men to be way sexier, smarter and more fun. I can say this because I adore Paul et Virginie and greatly like Bernardin de Saint Pierre (as did, remember, Napoleon--"Votre plume est un pinceau"); while at the same I pretty much detest Rousseau (and his godawful heteronormativity). Anyway, this which is everybody's favorite Mozart piano concerto, was the first piece of real music to be played in Boston (at a concert of the Boston Symphony in 1846), after the Puritans had worked so long (by then, a little more than two centuries since the founding of Plymouth Plantation in 1620). and so successfully, at killing music. And the response to the music of Mozart, of the heirs of the Puritans and Pilgrims--the revelation of the extent to which the musical parts of their souls had been damaged and no longer functioned--is at once edifying and horrifying: "Not music (as we now, in the year 1846, understand it), but the memory of music...." So much was lost when the beauty (the wit, the grace and the sense of fun) of "Papistry" was extirpated from lives and minds of Protestants. Imagine hearing the andante of this concerto as "the memory of music"!
I burn hot. I tend to exhaust people in conversation, like Margaret Fuller did Carlyle. Which leaves me (but apparently not Margaret) always wishing I'd shut up sooner. I have quite a few friends and not many enemies, but I'm very proud of the few I do have. There is consensus among my friends about me, which is how I know to write about myself. What my enemies think of me I have no idea. That, of course, could be dangerous.
The list of interests and favorites is absurdly partial and half-assed, particularly as to music and books. It's the stupid format of the blog itself, as given, that, of course, I color outside the lines and burst the seams of.
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