They played a recording of this classic Grieg piece from “Peer Gynt” at the convention today. I thought I’d post it here, in the version I prefer, with the chorus included. The singers are frequently omitted from performances, and in my opinion, once you hear the singers, the impression lingers.
I’d always understood the singers to be singing, “Satan!” But it’s actually “Slagt ham!” which means, “Kill him.” The Underground Folk go on to explain that Peer has deceived the Mountain King’s daughter, and to list all the acts of violence they plan to inflict on him, in revenge.
First of all, thanks for all the prayers and support I’ve received after my announcement of losing my job – both here and on Facebook.
Second, I’ve been rather preoccupied, so all I have to post tonight is another happy European song from the 1950s. This one stretches my parameters a little, since it’s not an instrumental. But it’s European and happy, and I’ve always liked it. Memorized it long ago (three verses of it), without much effort.
The song has an interesting story. The music was written by Friedrich-Wilhelm Möller shortly after World War II. He had a sister, Edith, who was the conductor of a small children’s choir, the Obernkirchen Children’s Choir, in northern Germany. She adapted a poem by Florenz Friedrich Sigismund (1788-1857) to the music and taught it to the choir. In 1953, they performed it at an international music festival, and it was recorded by the BBC. It became an immediate sensation, and spent a very long time on the UK Singles Chart. Meanwhile it swept the world. The fact that many of the children in the choir were war orphans added a piquancy to the story and (no doubt) helped to build some bridges between old enemies.
The German version uses the chorus, “Falleri, fallera,” but several translations soften the phrase to “Valderi, valdera.”
If you like to hike, consider memorizing it. It’s a great song to sing while walking. I used to do it myself, when I was younger and lighter on my feet.
Spent most of my day on the road today, having to attend a meeting in Fergus Falls, Minn. So I’ll just post another cheerful European pop song similar to the one I posted yesterday — so that the young folks may know the glories of the past.
This one came rather earlier than the other. This version by Les Baxter and his orchestra came out in 1956. The original song, called, “La Goualante du Pauvre Jean de Paris” (The Ballad of Poor Jean of Paris) was first recorded by Edith Piaf. In 1954 it was translated by Jack Lawrence, who misunderstood the name “Jean” as “gens,” which means “people.” Thus the English title became “The Poor People of Paris.” Doesn’t matter much, since all the popular versions in English-speaking countries have been instrumentals.
Due to a lack of anything to write worth reading, I thought I’d look for music to post. My memories flowed back to 1965 (I would have sworn it was earlier) and a certain kind of music that used to exist back in those days. Cheerful instrumental pop, generally emerging from Europe. One of my favorites was “A Walk in the Black Forest,” done by Horst Jankowski.
Wikipedia doesn’t tell much about Jankowski’s life, aside from professional stuff. But he would have grown up during World War II. Perhaps he knew starvation in the aftermath. So he produced happy music. A good response, in my opinion.
Maybe we need to have some bad times in this country, to produce some happy art.
I haven’t much to talk about today. At one point I had a memory flash of doing this song in high school choir. This doesn’t sound exactly like what I remember, but what does my memory know?
I’m going to criticize a song you’ve almost certainly never heard. And when you watch the video, below, you won’t understand it, because it’s in Danish.
But I thought of it last night, during one of my ever-popular sieges of insomnia. I hadn’t heard it since I stopped playing my vinyl albums, back in the ‘90s. So I checked out the video. And the more I thought about it, the more it annoyed me. Because I think it’s a really pretty and sweet piece. But also wrongheaded and soul-killing.
The singer is Birgitta Grimstad, as well-known Danish folk singer. This number, adapted from a modern Swedish popular song, was a big hit for her in that country. What it describes, in brief, is how the singer wakes up on a beautiful morning to find herself alone in her bed. And she immediately understands that “it happened, what we talked about.” Her lover has moved on – he’s searching, metaphorically, for “Samarkand,” which apparently symbolizes some transcendent dream that won’t let him settle down.
Except that’s not exactly it. She says, “…and another will be what I can never be.” In other words, her lover is looking for a new – presumably better – lover. She is sad about it, and cries. But she’s very accepting and hopes he finds what he’s looking for “if you ever find your way to Samarkand.”
There it is, the ethic of the 1970s. “Love” means sex, and sex is temporary. Nobody is obligated to stay in a relationship if some better prospect shows up. I first heard this song on the “Prairie Home Companion” program, and I remember Garrison Keillor praising its “sweet reasonableness.” Well, from what we’ve now learned about Keillor, it’s no surprise he’d consider the song reasonable. The perfect lover is one who lets you go without complaining, when you get offered an upgrade.
So here I am again, railing against sins I never got the opportunity to commit. But I’ll say this – I suspect that a lot of the anger we see in radical feminism today springs from women who were expected to play this kind of submissive game back during the Sexual Revolution years.
I don’t think I’ve shared this yet. Apparently the Danish National Symphony did a series of concerts earlier this year, performing the music of Ennio Morricone, who wrote all those great scores for Sergio Leone (and others).
This might seem like artistic slumming, but it isn’t. First of all, Ennio Morricone is in a class by himself. And it’s been suggested by people who know a lot more than I do that the only really good classical music being written today is being written for films.
