Glenn Gould talks about Stravinsky, Schoenberg, and Soviet music
Glenn Gould's judgements on 'Firebird' and 'Le Sacre du Printemps,' variously, to my surprise, are precisely the same as my own. Who'd 'a' thunk it? It remains still true, of course, that I think his critical indulgence of Schoenberg and the noisome (pun intended) contrivance of dodecaphony to be quite mistaken--perhaps even slavish or cowardly (except that he himself performs the awful stuff probably better than anyone else in the world).
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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