This song is unusual.
These at the end have to be the largest recorders I’ve ever seen. They’re basically organ pipes.
Similarly, this guy with the lute is just showing off:
As any reader will quickly notice, I’m mostly interested in the music on YouTube as a vast store of oddities, like the Wikipedia pages on marine invertebrates (see e.g. this), or this collection of medieval doodlings, rather than because I’m interested in the music for its own sake.
So, here is another such oddity:
The interesting thing is that this is expressing nostalgia (albeit less-than-straightforward nostalgia) for a group that were themselves peddlers in nostalgia for a yet earlier time. I know it doesn’t really work like this, but you might think there’s a sort of emotional inconsistency in counting among the most golden parts of a particular era a band who expressly would rather have lived 20 years earlier instead.
The last post, together with the discovery that the inestimable Dr Schwitzgebel is an Al Stewart fan, prompts me to also note the existence of this:
These three songs were all written (and probably choreographed) by Germans within a couple of years at the end of the ’70s. The second two are, of course, by the same group, who give essentially the same performance both times. This stuff must have been pretty popular for that to have been worth doing. Why this, then and there? And why are there no songs about how great it is to live in, say, Bavaria? Do Bavarians just not have sufficiently interesting dances? Not enough capes? Or maybe there are plenty of such songs, and I just haven’t seen them yet (they’re probably all in Russian).
“So it is with language – the man who has a ﬁne feeling for its tempo, its ﬁngering, its musical spirit, who can hear with his inward ear the ﬁne effects of its inner nature and raises his voice or hand accordingly, he shall surely be a prophet; on the other hand the man who knows how to write truths like this, but lacks a feeling and an ear for language, will ﬁnd language making a game of him, and will become a mockery to men, as Cassandra was to the Trojans. And though I believe that with these words I have delineated the nature and ofﬁce of poetry as clearly as I can, all the same I know that no one can understand it, and what I have said is quite foolish because I wanted to say it, and that is no way for poetry to come about.”
Following on from yesterday’s:
“Scientific theories are to us akin to musical scores for the deaf.”