The Good Love

Dear World,

I have taken over the earth and will use this space to spout revolutionary propaganda.

Here comes!

Let me tell you a story. On Wednesday I went to Avery Fisher Hall and heard the New York Philharmonic. My prediction as a direct result of this experience is that classical music as we now know it will die a complete and horrible death, probably within the next four minutes.

A sample dialogue from intermission, right after the Berg Violin Concerto: “Did you hate it?” Elderly Woman in Fur Coat A asks Elderly Woman in Fur Coat B. “Well, I feel like it’s something I should know. Like Bartok,” answers Elderly Woman in Fur Coat B. This, based on my remarkable ability to tell what everyone in a given public place is thinking at a given moment, seemed to be the prevailing feeling among the other 700,000 elderly women in fur coats in attendance. Probably elderly women in fur coats everywhere. (In related news, these women control the world. Or rather, they did until I took it over.) Compare this to a sample conversation from the young, hip and urbane crowd of Juilliard students, from the conservatory-of-legend located around 40 feet from Kurt Masur (Conductor. Scary. Mean.):



Petit quiz:

Name five composers who aren’t currently dead.

What, in your opinion, was the greatest orchestral composition of 1999?


We are ossifying bone-doctors. Please no longer go to concerts of Beethoven, Brahms, etc. Call your parents and your grandparents. Tell them to take their orchestra subscription money and mail it directly to the musicians. If you send it to me I can forward it. Boycott all dead composers. End the senseless crushing of new talent under old talent’s weight.

Part two of two-part plan: make me famous. Not just a little famous. Michael Jackson in 1985 famous. Screaming. Hair-pulling. Chase me around campus with a camera. Come to all of my concerts. When you realize that I don’t have any concerts coming up, demand more concerts. Make direct contributions to the Andrea Mazzariello as Cultural Icon and

Spokesman for our Generation Foundation, SU 1348. Et Cetera.

The funny thing about this is that I’m not kidding.

Please don’t think that you won’t be able to listen to dead composers ever again. After the revolution is complete, every once in awhile a Haydn symphony or some Finnish noodling for orchestra will pop up on a concert somewhere. Like the quaint little antiquated nuggets of genius from a smaller world that they are.

More to come,


P.S. I bet you had no idea you cared so much about the cause.

P.P.S. I need a pseudonym. Email suggestions to 00alm.

P.P.P.S. My Senior Thesis was supposed to be performed by the Berkshire Symphony on April 21. Instead I’ve decided to abandon music as a medium of expression in favor of film. My project has been renamed Lady Sparkle’s Surly Hot Tub Party and I’m running it at Images right now. Go go go! The line is for voucher holders only.

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