#anyways harpsichord my beloved

[undergoing-mitosis]

what is it about video game boss themes with harpsichord always going SO HARD

no like, we have World's End Valentine, Mantis Lords, Pandora Palace (and just all of Queen's themes in general), just like arghhhhh

the harpsichord has such a unique timbre, and something about that makes it worth so well with a certain genre of character. it just feels so perfectly fitting to all these characters, making for some striking and recognisable leitmotifs, and it also has the perfect opportunity for fast runs and insane melodies when things hype up.

this is a harpsichord appreciation post. the harpsichord is not appreciated enough, especially when it's used in modern music.

here are the songs i talked about. please feel free to drop any other epic harpsichord songs (especially video game music!!) in the notes, i would love to hear em!

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Don Giovanni (Met, 1990): Reactions, Part I

about time i liveblogged don giovanni on this here account

@leporellian​

F MURRAY ABRAHAM MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED

those opening chords are the GOAT

(really, as i have already stated, the overture in general is the GOAT. but james l*vine is very much NOT the GOAT even tho those chords were PERFECTION.)

okay but for real it’s so cool to watch the set come into place

FERRUCCIO FURLANETTO AND LEPORELLO MY BELOVEDS

surely there is something significant in us hearing from leporello first 👀

GET HIS ASS DONNA ANNA (also carol vaness my beloved)

fuck any production that tries to make this “consensual” (and bravo to this production for NOT doing that)

goated opera dad

it’s all he does the whole opera

STUNNING cape

fuck youuuuuuuuuuuu

poor leporello

three low-voiced greats, this sublime music, likely the greatest opening scene in opera, what more could you want?

bitch

this line makes me HOWL every time

GO OFF LEPORELLO

too late :(

oh no oh honey

BITCH HER FATHER WAS JUST MURDERED

honestly i wanna see the version where donna anna inigo montoya’s don giovanni’s ass

“but savannah that goes against traditional gender roles in western societies” and THAT is the point here!!!! the men [ottavio] are so ineffective and like enforcing their little buddy clubs and norms but then the women [anna] cannot fight for themselves!!!

yeah and then you’re gonna do NOTHING

which does not exist

EXACTLY

just gonna leave this here

KARITA MATTILA AND DONNA ELVIRA MY ABSOLUTE BELOVEDS

once again: elvira is not crazy!!! she’s like helena in a midsummer night’s dream, chasing after the man who ruined her life and caused her to violate the societal norms in hope of respectability!!! and there’s lots of other complicated feelings there too!!!

ICONIC

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

this moment right here is *chef’s kiss*

ONCE AGAIN: GET HIS ASS DONNA ELVIRA

something something anna/elvira inside/outside society compare and contrast

me trying to explain anything without writing it down first

also: bye bye you little coward

EXACTLY. he isn’t worth worrying about but elvira has her rights anyway

CATALOGUE ARIA TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HER FACE 😂😭

all bow to the one true king

oh this is a BOP (also pretty set)

DAWN UPSHAW AND ZERLINA MY BELOVEDS

(seriously this cast is so GOATed)

don giovanni: here i am to cause problems on purpose

oh come on leporello (more accurately: come on director)

what a dick

unrelated but samuel ramey: consummate musician and actor, like even in the way he taps the hilt exactly with the harpsichord chords

masetto pls calm down

WHICH YOU ARE NOT

she says “NO I DON’T WANT TO”

i love this duet but in light of her LITERALLY just saying no…😬

no no no no noooooooooooo

anyway this is being stupid so rest of act one will be on a different post

[bzedan]

April! Continuing my little bonus challenge of meaningful numbers, this playlist is 4 hours and 0 minutes long (my 40th birthday was this month).

Being my birthday month, this playlist was all about indulging myself with some oft-played faves mixed with ancient nostalgia, while also threading through a little bit of self-discovery vibes? Existing at this age wasn't something I could really conceptualize when listening to 'Barracuda' for the first time, I was just getting by day-to-day.

Anyway! A lot of songs from my most beloved records and tapes growing up, but with all the things I've fallen in love with since (did you know I was finally able to learn who Dio was thanks to hearing it on a radio station in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City Stories.

That's not to say there are a bunch of new favourites in here; 'Damocles' by Medusa is sparkling new and absolutely slaps in a way that I wish I could send to young me who hadn't even heard rock as hard as 'Time of the Season' yet, but who would play harpsichord records loudly, paving the mental pathways for listening to Wendy Carlos' The Well-Tempered Synthesizer (deeply unavailable online). I will note that I'd heard rock before The Zombies, but I don't think the piano music to 'White Rabbit' is quite the same thing, really.

Related media to some of the songs:

If you like Stromae's 'Alors On Danse' then there's a Tiny Desk Concert for you with another mix of the song (it's at 8:03).  

'ボクにインビテーション' (Boku ni Inbitēshon, "Invitation to Me") by JP is from Shirokuma Cafe, an anime worth hunting up (it's animals who work and visit a cafe! there are puns that can't be localised but they translate them well!).

'Violin Concerto in G Major, Op. 8, No. 2: I. Allegro' is from Chevalier, which is in theatres now and I look forward to seeing when I can watch it at home, here's a trailer. And here's the Tumblr post that hipped me to the movie coming out.

Anyway here's a link to April's playlist on Spotify, with the track list below.

Also embedded, if you like that sort of thing:

'Meet Me In The Middle (Ky Vöss Mix)' - Boy Jr.  

'Sometimes I Think I Hate Myself' - Dead On A Sunday

'Damocles' - Medusa

'Sister Christian' - Night Ranger

'It Can't Come Quickly Enough' - Scissor Sisters  

Alors On Danse - 90's Remix' - Stromae  

'Talkin' Bout' - Thumpasaurus  

'Barracuda' - Heart  

'Crimson and Clover' - Joan Jett & the Blackhearts  

'Time of the Season' - The Zombies  

'From The Morning' - Let's Eat Grandma  

'Magic Carpet Ride' - Steppenwolf  

'The Pusher' - Steppenwolf  

'Holy Diver' - Dio  

'(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone - 2006 Remaster' - The Monkees  

'Magic Man' - Heart  

'The Last in Line' - Dio  

'I Am a Rock' - Simon & Garfunkel  

'The Weight' - Smith  

'This Diamond Ring' - Gary Lewis & The Playboys  

'Grease - From “Grease”' - Frankie Valli  

'To Love Somebody' - Bee Gees  

'It's My Party' - Lesley Gore  

'My Kink is Karma' - Chappell Roan  

'Good Tonight' - Izzy Perri  

'Blue Monday' - Orgy  

'Five O'clock World' - The Vogues  

'Leader Of The Pack' - The Shangri-Las  

'Earth Angel' - The Penguins  

'Son of a Preacher Man' - Dusty Springfield  

'Devil Came Down the Dance Floor (feat. Amber Martin)' - Jake Shears  

'If U Seek Amy' - Britney Spears  

'Central City Freestyle' - Big Freedia  

'Dark Night' - The Blasters  

'I Think We're Alone Now - Single Version' - Tommy James & The Shondells  

'Chaeri' - Magdalena Bay  

'On A Roll' - Ashley O  

'Career Boy' - Dorian Electra  

'Better To Find Out For Yourself' - Buffy Sainte-Marie  

'Mamma Mia' - String Tribute Players  

'Chemical' - Post Malone  

'The Shoop Shoop Song (It's In His Kiss)' - Betty Everett  

'ボクにインビテーション' (Boku ni Inbitēshon, "Invitation to Me") - SUPER OMOTENASHI BEATS vol.1 ver' - JP  

'Tell Him - Single Version' - The Exciters  

'Visions' - Guilhem Desq  

'I Love You Always Forever' - Donna Lewis  

'I Think You've Got Your Fools Mixed Up' - Brenton Wood  

'Identity Crisis' - Jarina De Marco  

'I Don't Wanna Be Funny Anymore' - Lucy Dacus  

'Psychos' - Jenny Lewis  

'Underwater' - Sun's Signature  

'Violin Concerto in G Major, Op. 8, No. 2: I. Allegro - From "Chevalier"' - Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges  

'So Good Right Now' - Fall Out Boy  

'Chan Chan' - Buena Vista Social Club  

'White Rabbit' - Jefferson Airplane  

'Mr Blue' - Yazoo  

'Synthesizer' - Electric Six  

'Crazy On You' - Heart  

'Sonido Amazonico' - Los Mirlos  

'Coconut' - Harry Nilsson  

'Oranges and Lemons' - Book Of Love  

'Season of the Witch' - Donovan  

'If I'm Dancing' - Britney Spears  

'All Night Long (All Night) - Single Version' - Lionel Richie  

'Year Of Living Dangerously' - Scissor Sisters

[rebelpeas]

hi dee its rae im desperate for human connection on this day, the worst day to have online friends. how are you doing, did you know that the pianoforte is a different instrument than the piano

hello rae raedacted my beloved today is truly a terrible day for those of us online. i cannot even listen to music to numb the pain. a tragedy. anyway yes i did know that about the pianoforte!! they’re funny little weird looking pianos but i’ve never actually gotten to see one in person. i did get to play a harpsichord once though, that was pretty cool

[scarsandroses]

Grease stalagmites and mental illness

My kitchen sink is deficient. From its outward appearance you might not notice this outright.  Sure, closer inspection would reveal a few wearing spots on the cabinetry and the sprayer is curiously no longer present, in its place a shiny steel (stopper? plug? I have no idea what the hell it’s called but it looks like it belongs anyway). In short, by all facades it’s in good shape, upkept and pretty clean. And that’s about as far as that charade goes.  

I was standing at said sink this morning, waiting for the water to heat up to rinse out my coffee cup and that very faint, yet familiar odor slowly wafted it’s way up to greet me. The bucket is filling again. And that means soon it would need to be dumped before it spills its foul contents everywhere. 

And right there is where I realized, holy shit, this is a perfect parable for what it feels like inside my head.  Most people who know me, and trust me, these are few and very far between, would have no idea I suffer from lifelong depression, anxiety and borderline personality disorder.  I am I suppose what is called “high functioning” although that’s really a matter of perspective if you ask me.  My colleagues at work have no idea, the scattering of friends I have online have no idea, and for those that are “blessed” enough to be considered welcomed within my inner circle, well, they know all too well what hides beneath my sink. 

I stood at the sink a few long moments contemplating how something so asinine could possibly be so accurate.  I knew when I opened the cabinet door the bucket would be menacing with a nearly filled to the brim chum water. It lets me know before its actual spill because I can smell it.  I have tried in the past to fix it, but if we’re being completely truthful here, I haven’t the foggiest idea what the hell I’m looking at.  I thought it should be a matter of simply Googling “leaky pipe” or some such nonsense, but my particular sink has what appears to be grease stalagmites protruding at angry angles from every side.  If that isn’t just exactly like my damn mind, I swear. 

Whether it be a psychiatrist or a plumber, I stood there realizing that I have made do all of these years with my buckets and olfactory sensors. It looks like it’s in fine working order from the outside, and I guess when you’re someone like me, that’s sometimes the best you can really hope for.  Passably normal? 

I pulled the bucket out and dumped it over the side of the balcony into the woods below.  Better to let them take and swallow the shame of my ineptitude, right? And my beloved woods can and do just that.  I find I dump pretty much everything out there to be consumed by the woods.  

What I found most interesting though is in analyzing this same parallel, I realize that much like my deficient sink, my mind too has its warning signs when I’m about to overflow.  And it’s in those times that I need to journal most. A proverbial dumping out of my bucket, if you will. 

That’s where I am today.  I fully realize I need to deal with these damn greasy stalagmites at some point if I’m ever to have a fully operational sink again. But who would I even begin to trust to come look at this mess for me?  I can smell the funk about to overflow again and so here I am dumping the bucket.  Get another week or so out of the effort, I’m sure. 

Tomorrow I go back to work and already I dread. I work from home, which is a blessing in and of itself, and even THAT is too much social interaction for me. Just the barrage of emails and questions and employees that need one thing or another is too much to bear some days.  The days when the bucket is too full, I suppose. 

But, I am happy to report that I have begun to start chipping away at some of the grease buildup. I have quit smoking, officially smoke free for 9 days today. If you know me, which I realize you don’t and that’s fine you can just take my word for it, this is a huge feat in and of itself. Perhaps a low key death wish I’d been fostering for now most of my living years, I was up to three packs a day every day without fail. 

I’m not entirely sure what the impetus was this time to quit. Maybe just the realization that this mortal bag isn’t going to last forever. Or maybe it’s the way it’s drawing more attention to my rapidly aging appearance particularly in contrast to my beautiful partner 22 years my junior. (Seriously though, he is HOT!) Who knows. Everything right now feels quite a jumble and well, frankly, like that hot mess that’s under my sink. 

That said, this is my attempt to begin to dump out some of the overflow. I feel fuzzy today and strings of thought will not coherently come for some reason. I’m trying though, I hope you can see that much. I really am trying. 

It feels like there should be some great point of catharsis to this post, and who knows maybe the whole point was just the act of sitting down to try. Regardless, I’ve decided that the most important thing right now is that I continue my battle against the cigarettes, and I’ve put everything else to the back burner including my mediumship studies and novel aspirations. 

Today I will take this chaos and funnel it through my hands into clay. Maybe I’ll even start posting pictures of the things I sculpt, strange ass things that they may be. A fresh hot cup of some obscene specialty coffee, a fine harpsichord playlist on my Spotify, and the ugly little creatures that slither forward from the bottom of the bucket.  Curious to see what gets birthed today. 

Anyway, I’ll be back soon. Thanks for reading this far. 

[naturepointstheway]

Day 18/30 BatB Lines Prompts: “A Diva Needs Their Beauty Rest”

A series of 100-word drabbles on Prince Adam’s morning of his fifth birthday. There are fourteen drabbles in all. Consider them like vignettes in a way.

A boy prince wakes up at five, all of five years old. He counts on his fingers, amazed now he can count his age using all the digits on one hand! He wants to go wake his mama, tell her it’s his birthday today, but he daren’t, for his father would wake up too and be angry. He knows, however, the kitchen would be awake, or at least Cuisiner would be its only soul there, cooking up the day’s breakfast, a few hours away. The boy can’t go back to sleep, excitement singing through his body down to his toes.

The boy tiptoes all the way to the kitchen, tiptoeing down the stairs as softly as possible. He peeps around the room; the kitchen is lit by only a few candles, Cuisinier hard at work with breakfast preparations.

“You’re early, Lumiere,” the cook rumbles, “Unless you’re not him. Mrs Potts? Is that you?”

The cook pauses his work, spins around, and his eyes widen in surprise on seeing Prince Adam.

“Adam! You’re up earlier than the birds!”

“I’m five today.”

“Ah.” The cook points at him with a knowing smile. “Too excited to go back to sleep?”

“Much too excited!”

Cuisiner has a sense of good humour—he allows the boy to enter—mind the oven, it’s hot!—allows Adam to plop down at the staff table. He feels the boy’s eyes watching him as he returns his attention back to his work.

“Five! Years! Old!” the cook marvels, emphasising each word with a dramatic thunk of his knife on the chopping board. “Time went fast.”

“Really? It felt like being four took forever! I already feel ten!”

Cuisiner’s laugh echoes. “You want to be ten already, is that it? I swear, you’ll be ten before this year’s through, boy!”

When Lumiere enters, he is amused to see the boy already up. He isn’t surprised—he remembers being a little boy once, too excited on waking up knowing it was his birthday. He’s certain Adam feels just the same. He pulls out a chair at the table, flops back in it, lanky legs stretched out before him.

“All of five today!” he marvels, “Soon you’ll be a man!”

He encourages the boy to go back to bed—he needs his sleep, or he’ll be too tired for the day’s adventures.

“What kind of adventures?”

“Fun adventures! All I can say!”

 He goes back to bed, and he still cannot sleep. Lying on his back, Adam hears the first peeps of the dawn chorus, and, elsewhere in the castle, a fiddle plays—long, soft, lullaby-like notes. He closes his eyes, letting himself drift off to the melodies. It is only when he feels his mother gently shaking his shoulder to wake him, his eyes opening to the sun rising in the east, does he know he had drifted back to sleep again. His mother plants a kiss on his forehead. He reaches his arms up for a snuggle.

“Happy birthday, Adam.” 

His mother allows him to dine with his friends among the staff, a thing he knows his father would never approve. His cold eyes say as much, but he says nothing, and Adam holds tight to his mama’s hand as they descend to the kitchen where his birthday breakfast awaits. Mrs Potts stands at the bottom of the staircase, ready to sweep him into a big warm hug.

“Happy birthday, my boy,” she gives him a kiss on the cheek, “Come join us too, good Princess.”

“You know I could never say no—of course I shall join you all.”

Lumiere can never say no to an occasion to perform. This morning is no different. As the boy watches, he digs deep into his coat pockets and brandishes five juggling balls, pulling them out one by one with great shows of astonishment. Both royalty and servants are his audience, watching as one as he juggles and twirls and performs before he finishes with a flourish. Cuisiner tells him he’s lucky he didn’t throw any into the breakfast he’d carefully set out, Cogsworth mutters about “showing off” but he beams nevertheless, and Adam is overcome with the delight of it all.

He already has more than he could ask for, but still the castle presents him gifts anyway (but not his father. Never his father.) But the best present he could ask for was when his mother brought him outside to show him her beloved rose garden out of the way, private, with a bench for some soul to rest away from the castle.

“I love it,” the boy’s voice is hushed with awe as he stares at the blooming white roses, “It’s really pretty.”

“This is the one place your father cannot touch. If you need to come here, do.”

Plumette holds on to his hand as they go look for Lumiere elsewhere in the castle.

“We have a mystery for you,” she says, “Some books seem to have gone and disappeared! All five of them! We were going to give them to you, but they ran away right before our eyes!”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” a new voice confirms; Lumiere has found them. “Just went scampering off, like that.” He clicks his fingers to emphasise his words. “So we need to find them. It’s like hide and seek, but with books.”

And, together, the trio of detectives explore the castle.

By an ornate mantle clock, they find a book on history; by a three-pronged candelabra they find a leather-bound play by Shakespeare; resting next to a fireplace they find a book with bird illustrations throughout; a fourth on music—all sheet music—is discovered near a harpsichord; and the final one, a book that is more of an atlas, is discovered by a chessboard. It is abundantly clear to the boy that the staff all had a hand in choosing the books.

“We found them all,” Lumiere sounds supremely astonished, “They won’t be running off again anytime soon! Naughty books.”

Desserts, he has plenty of desserts in the morning, with icing and decorations fit for a prince’s sweet tooth. Mrs Potts pours him a cup of tea to go with the puddings—a dessert is never fully satisfying without a bit of tea to go with it. Chapeau, busy as he is, finds time to sit down with him and have a dessert too. How is his morning going? Did he like the book with the music? Perhaps this afternoon, I shall perform some for you.

Naturally, the answer to the question of a musical performance is a resounding “yes!”

Staff and royalty (his father doesn’t attend—music is all cacophony to his ears) alike relax to listen to Chapeau’s performance on his violin. Chapeau plays for the boy prince, it is true, but he plays for all nonetheless. His bow and fingers fly over the strings, he sways with the melodies’ paths, and he smiles as he performs. As he plays, it is as though his audience holds their breath, not daring to breathe, lest they interrupt the flawless performance with a misplaced exhalation. Chapeau could play for hours, just him and his beloved violin brightening lives with music.

Lumiere entertains—of course he does, for it runs in his blood, through every vein of his being. Plumette joins him, adds more voices and a second character. The play is so very romantic, so very much like a fairy tale. He dances with Plumette behind the curtain, the shadow of love falls and twirls upon the fabric. Of course it is a happily ever after, with singing (for once, Adam doesn’t clap his hands over his ears) and dance and magic. There is always magic when Lumiere is around, there is always laughter, song, and surprises that always astonish.

All this excitement and performance! It is so very wearying for even a healthy boy like Prince Adam! He needs to have a little nap, reclining back on a lush sofa with soft cushions under his head.

“Tired already, mon prince?”

“It’s nearly lunchtime,” the prince says, “I need to rest for lunch.”

Lumiere flings himself into another chair, slumps down in it, crossing his legs over each other.

“So do I,” he declares, closing his eyes, “It has been a big morning, and the rest of the day awaits.”

“What—”

“Shhh, Adam, a diva needs his beauty rest.”