My usual disclaimer had better go in here first. In my rather vivid imagination, I've dreamt up both a thoroughly unpleasant sort of fellow and an unusually passive one (especially under the circumstances portrayed!). Let me hasten to add that I would personally find it both very extraordinary indeed, and frankly, highly amusing, if it should be discovered that anyone fancied that I was actually trying to portray a known individual. Any real or imagined resemblance of the characters to any *real* person is pure accident and was certainly not intended. I also would add that any opinions presented are not necessarily identical with those I may personally hold. Anyway, without further ado, I present: A Slice of the Life of an English Music Critic: A Rather Surreal Short Story. "My dear fellow, I really must insist that you do stay for tea and a scone" the Critic said, affecting an unexpectedly warm tone. "After all, it must have come as a tremendous shock for you to learn the terrible truth that all four of the early Symphonies of Antonin Dvorak are totally inadequate by any standard". "That's very kind, good S.." "Please don't interrupt! I must say it really is the height of bad manners and indeed a sign of ill-breeding, but knowing, as I do, that you, dear fellow, are but a simple man and somewhat Bohemian in your habits and tastes, I will make due allowance and pardon your unseemly and unseasonable transgression on this particular occasion." At that moment the maid, Mrs Stokes, a woman of middle age and more than ample corporeal proportions walked in with the refreshments that her master had ordered. The Critic paused, silently gathering his thoughts as Mrs Stokes unobtrusively poured the tea, discreetly taking note of the unusual guest and his shabby appearance before leaving the room (and hurrying back to the Kitchen to spread the latest Gossip). "No, I'll simply not have it", the Critic continued, "I realise that you are a simple Fishmonger from the East End of this Great City of Ours, and it is to be expected that without Guidance the tastes of the Common People will be somewhat questionable." Once more the Critic paused. His undistinguished Guest slurped his tea and scoffed his scone, daring not to speak. "I was at Oxford you know", continued the Critic, "And I studied Philosophy there. I also acquired a DSc in Statistical Analysis at Cambridge. My parents taught me to be self-reliant, so, for the most part, I had to pay my own way. I cleaned windows, I swept floors, I polished up handles on big front doors. I even got to meet Admiral Lord Hill-Norton. Not that that got me anywhere really. I mean, that old fuddy-duddy seemed to think he knew everything. He struck me as being something of an idiot really - imagine! he actually seemed to think that Sea Power was important and set about wasting his time making TV documentaries supporting his outlandish Claims. Well, I'm not afraid to call a spade a spade and I told him as much to his face. He didn't seem to have much to say in reply as I argued the merits of Air Power. Anyway, I later learned from a Mutual Acquaintance that the Admiral had complained that he couldn't get a word in edgeways and that he didn't see much point in it anyway. Hm, imagine that! The Gall of the Man!" Again the Critic paused ever so briefly for a breath and sipped his tea. Then he continued, "I belong to a long line of Distinguished Music Critics and I know that with the sort of Background that I have just outlined I am eminently qualified to write and speak the Truth on All Matters appertaining to Music. Now, I know you must be wondering why I'm telling you all this and even more so wondering why I would even bother to entertain some Insignificant Non-Entity from a particularly Unsavoury Sector of the East End like You, What?" "Well..er.. yes, as I matter of fact I do wonder", the Fishmonger replied, somewhat hesitantly. "It's quite simple really, my dear little fellow, though I shouldn't imagine that it would be easy for someone of your Level of Comprehension to apprehend. I and my Distinguished Colleagues are proud of our Traditions. Among those Traditions, as you well know, from this Encounter, is an insistence on the outward Forms and Display of Civility. It doesn't really matter what one actually says, so long as this outward Appearance of Civility and Polity is observed at All Times. Of course, it is also a long-standing Tradition to pooh pooh the Early Symphonies of Dvorak. Who am I to break with these Traditions? No, our Opinions must be heard; they must be observed and duly regarded by All. It's bad enough when some poor fool from the Meaner Sort of Society in which you mingle, those with absolutely no Refinement of Taste, in other words, suddenly get some Fanciful and Egalitarian Notion stuck in their Block-heads that they can actually ignore the Critics and even Form their Very Own Opinions. No, indeed we cannot have that sort of Independent Spirit at all! I say categorically that the Early Symphonies of Dvorak and absolutely Everything by Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov are absolutely appalling Rubbish, and there's an end on't!" The Critic, noticing that his Guest was nodding off, prodded him sharply and seeing him fully alert again continued, "What is just as bad, if not worse, are the Encroachments of Trained and Professional Musicians on Our Turf! They set themselves up in Opposition to the Critics at Every Opportunity! It's simply Intolerable. You get these Re-evaluations of Neglected Repertoire; New Interpretations of Standard Repertoire including Historically Informed Performances; and they're pandering to and actively encouraging The Lowest Common Denominator, by recording and re-recording The Four Seasons, Beethoven Symphonies, and far too much Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov. And then there's this new Breed of Professional Composer, writing all manner of Strange Stuff or Popular and Accessible Stuff or alternating between the Two Extremes without Rhyme nor Reason and allying themselves to these Arrogant Performers and encouraging them to rebel, yes rebel I say against the Authority of the Music Critics. This sort of thing cannot be allowed to continue. Unless we defend ourselves against these Onslaughts of the Professionals who assail the Mighty Fortress of Our Opinions as Intermediaries between their Divine Inspiration and the Ignorance of the Average passive Listener, we might actually have a sort of Musical Reformation on our Hands! Oh, perish the thought that the Position of Critic could ever become open to Everyone according to their Own Tastes and Conscientious Efforts! Goodness me, look at the time. Off you go now, my dear fellow. I'll call Mrs Stokes in to escort you out through the Tradesmen and Servants Entrance. I can't have you leaving through the Front Entrance and giving cause for Gossip among the Neighbours!" The End. Geoffrey Gaskell [log in to unmask] http://freeweb.digiweb.com/music/Gustav_Mahler/