Incomplete And Utter History Of Classical Music

TO TOBY!

A

h yes, Toby. What a great year. But what is there to say? Well, I could tell you that some lucky people have been digging in the Transvaal aand haave now got raather a lot of gold in their haands. Not quite so glamorous, some other people have been digging in the middle of London, and have come up with the Bakerloo Line. In Paris, Le Matin, issue one, appears, possibly containing an article on the new work by local boy Auguste Rodin, called The Burghers of Calais. It might also have had a leader column on the poindess pointillism of Georges Seurat, as his latest, line Baignade Asnieres, m giving people cricked necks die same year. In Britain, George Bernard Shaw joined the small but perfecdy formed Eabian Society, while in die good old U S of A Huckleberry Finn was a bestseller for Mark Twain.

Back in Vienna, Brahms has swept aside all thoughts now of Beethoven, with his brand-new symphony, which many consider his greatest. Well, at least he thought he had. Sad to say, some critics immediately start calling it 'his Eroica\ AAAgghhh! Don't you just hate it when that happens? CRITICS! They can never examine a new work without feeling they have to point out any similarities it bears to things they can vaguely make out themselves. 'Ooh, didn't that bit sound a bit like the first bar of "Oh I do like to be beside the seaside"? It did, didn't it! Pretty sure it did!' - cue article in paper next day: 'This is quite clearly HIS "Oh I do like to be beside the seaside". Patendy!' AAAGGHH!

Anyway. I should stop there. Suffice to say, Brahms's Third Symphony is Brahms's Third Symphony is Brahms's Third Symphony. It's wonderful, and that's all there is to it.