Sreve Schwartz is puzzled over Denis Fodor's assertion that taste in
music doth change but doeth it slooooowly:

> But what about taste changed and how?

Well, to attend Beethoven's Second, they had to trudge through the
snow to the Theater an der Wien.  Then they got to hear an orchestra
play stuff that was based on what the haute volee danced to.  They were
paying for a place at the keyhole of the Ballhaus, so to speak, to listen
to Beethoven's Second.  Some two hundred years later they took the tram
to the Schwarzeberg Platz to go to the Musikverein Saal in order to hear
an orchestray play what the critics and the Intelligenz were buzzing
about, namely music that cocked a snoot at the old dances by playing
refined distortions of peasant dances.  What they specifically heard was
called Mahler's Second that they had been given to understand by the
Intelligenz in the era of Vienna's great and populist lord mayor Karl
Lueger, texted out to say that the music of common man could be great
music.  Or, to the Viennese Woman of the Street, not to be confused with
a street walker, "Mir san Mir", Viennese for We are Us.

Denis Fodor

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