Le roi est mort, vive le roi

Current mood: Arty

Current music: A becoming silence (I don't have any opera on me)

Pavarotti is dead. The King of the High C's is no more. The Vienna State Opera and the Salzburg Festival Hall have both raised black flags, and opera fans around the world are in mourning for a man who was a legend in his own lifetime.

Picture taken from http://www.amcostarica.com/020204.htm

Admittedly, I myself am not an opera fan per se, but I do like to see one occasionally, and at any rate Pavarotti did have a lot of talent, which I respect. I only wish I went to his concert when he performed here in 2005. The music world has lost a great voice, and the Three Tenors are now down to two. And who wants to listen to just 'Two Tenors', without the Tenor who had the greatest power and charisma of the lot?

So a moment of silent tribute, please, to Luciano Pavarotti...

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[Silence]

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Anyway, in an attempt to lighten the mood, I shall now go on to what I had been planning to post for months but hadn't got round to actually posting, because I have been so phenomenally busy. I currently have Mandarin classes, Music classes, and Master's classes - also known as the Three M's - every week. And that's not even counting work!

The first item is a parody of the Spice Girls' 1996 hit song, 'Wannabe'. (Interestingly, Pavarotti has performed with the Spice Girls before.) This is yet another Aureala & Edsters collaborative work; Edsters wrote such a brilliant rap and ending to go with what I'd already written, that I just had to include them. So here it is - 'Wannabe' taken to the world of art appreciation (or criticism, as the case might be):

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WANNA SEE

(2007)

Sung to the tune of the Spice Girls' 1996 hit song, 'Wannabe'

By Aureala & Edsters

Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna

Really really really wanna Tatertate-boat

If you want the future, check out the past

Though it may change with the times, great art will last

Come to the galleries - which, rain or shine

Are full of culture vultures seeking a good time

I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna

Really really really wanna Tatertate-boat

If you wanna see Tate Modern, you gotta get down the Thames

Sure, some art is crazy, but they've some little gems

If you wanna see Tate Britain, head back up the river

Admiring art is easy; creating never is, uh

What d'ya think about art? Let me know how you feel

This guy's done half a dead cow; is he for real?

A glass of water upon a shelf

Isn't art, but something I could make myself

Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna

Really really really wanna Tatertate-boat

If you wanna see Tate Modern, you gotta get down the Thames

Sure, some art is crazy, but they've some little gems

If you wanna see Tate Britain, head back up the river

Admiring art is easy; creating never is, uh

So here's a story from Tate to Tate

You wanna go with me, you gotta like a good debate

Is it junk in the place that has a modern face?

Is it Tate M or B you really wanna see?

Artistry doesn't come for free (unlike entry)

It's B for me, you'll see!

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

If you wanna see Tate Modern, you gotta get down the Thames

Sure, some art is crazy, but they've some little gems

If you wanna see Tate Britain, head back up the river

Admiring art is easy; creating never is, uh

If you wanna see Tate Modern

You gotta, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta

Zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

Take the Tate boat and zoom it real far

If you wanna see Tate Modern

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Picture taken from http://www.tate.org.uk/tatetotate

If you aren't a Londoner and are a bit puzzled by some of our references, let me just briefly explain that Tate Britain and Tate Modern are two art galleries along London's river Thames. There is a boat that runs between the two, aptly called the 'Tate to Tate Boat', or just the 'Tate Boat'. It's a speedy little thing in glorious multicoloured dots, and zips up and down the river at quite a decent pace. Apart from being a convenience to gallery-goers, it's a fabulous way to travel. Check out http://www.tate.org.uk/tatetotate if you're interested.

As for the actual art that's exhibited, the Tate Britain has more traditional kinds of British art, whereas the Tate Modern focuses on modern art, though Edsters is particularly acerbic about post-modern 'art' (hence it's Tate B for him). Personally I quite like both Tates, although I must admit that a glass of water placed upon a shelf and titled 'An Oak Tree' is Not Art. It is, quite frankly, ridiculous. You can see it at http://www.tate.org.uk/servlet/ViewWork?workid=27072. In fact, I've just found a hilarious interview with the so-called artist, Michael Craig-Martin, on http://www.cl.cam.ac.uk/~ig206/oak_tree.html (thank you, Google!). Go on, knock yourselves out.

The other item I'd like to share with you today is a little poem I wrote upon coming upon an interesting word in the dictionary one day. The basic premise of the poem is not for the squeamish, but if you intend to read it anyway, it might help to imagine yourself as a gentleman, back in the days of Victorian England...

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A TASTE OF VICTORIAN MEDICINE

(2007)

By Aureala

Bdellatomy [deh-LAT-uh-mee] (n.) - The name given to the practice of cutting leeches to empty them of blood while they still continue to suck. [Modified from Greek: 'Bdella', leech + 'tomia', a cutting.]

~ The Oxford English Dictionary ~

A night on the town

In the jewel of the Crown,

Old London! was ne'er to be missed;

So the lads from the club

Took me round every pub

To find booze and some girls to be kissed.

A minx danced the zambra

At the rowdy Alhambra

The crowd roared, and started a fight -

The Hall's chief amusements

Are music, amazement,

And riots that last through the night.

All was not well

At the three o'clock bell,

As we stumbled out onto the street.

The lamp-post pounced idly,

The gutter yawned widely

And swallowed me, quick and discreet.

An indulgent old bobby

Brought me to the lobby

Of my landlady's humble abode.

I murmured of headache,

And neck-ache, and leg-ache

As my knee swelled into a geode.

What a fuss did she make!

And nought would she take

But the best, for her prodigal son.

The old dear brought a tonic

And called in a medic -

Though I thank the Lord, only one.

'Is it serious?' she cried.

'Not at all,' Doc replied,

'These young men are always afire!

Have no fear, my good fellow!'

And my face turned yellow -

Such words are unfailingly dire.

He placed a fat bdella

Upon my patella

And gave me a good, hearty leeching;

But the Doc was unfazed

As calmly he gazed

At a full-grown man screaming and screeching.

With sweat down my collar

And eyes wide with horror,

I watched the thing gulping and gorging;

The leech's incision

Had been made with precision;

While it sucked, it was also disgorging!

It was just as I dreaded -

It made me light-headed -

Blood loss threw me into a faint.

When I woke, Doc was gone;

My landlady looked on,

And her smile was like that of a saint.

'My dear, are you better?

I am such a fretter;

Don't stay out all night, e'er again!'

I can't keep that promise

But the point I brought home is:

When hung-over, NEVER complain!

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Let that be a lesson to you all. Goodbye and goodnight!