My son and I were walking along the streets of Vienna on the Saturday evening of our visit, on our way to the Musikhaus, when suddenly, the most exquisite streams of music came from somewhere on the street ahead of us. We were in Kaertnerstrasse and my ears were in bliss from the melody gushing towards us. It was the most heavenly female voice singing Mozart's "Ave verum corpus" - one of my favourite songs - and we rushed ahead to see who it was that was singing. Imagine my astonishment when, horror of horrors, it wasn't a female singing but a bona fide male. A male singing much better than many females I've heard, waaaay better than I can or ever will be able to sing! And it was then and there that I decided - when I grow up, I wanna sing like this castrato:
I have always been fascinated by castrato singers - even read a couple of novels with castrato singers in them, both set in Venice. But honestly, how many men would be willing to sacrifice their manhood for their art? Nowadays, probably none, although this was not always the case, albeit the young male had little or no say in the matter. But look at what wiki says about the effects of castration and decide for yourselves whether the advantages outweigh the disadvantages:
Castration before puberty (or in its early stages) prevents a boy's larynx from being transformed by the normal physiological events of puberty. As a result, the vocal range of prepubescence (shared by both sexes) is largely retained, and the voice develops into adulthood in a unique way. As the castrato's body grew, his lack of testosterone meant that his epiphyses (bone-joints) did not harden in the normal manner. Thus the limbs of the castrati often grew unusually long, as did the bones of their ribs. This, combined with intensive training, gave them unrivalled lung-power and breath capacity. Operating through small, child-sized vocal cords, their were also extraordinarily flexible, and quite different from the equivalent adult female voice, as well as higher vocal ranges of the uncastrated adult male. Listening to the only surviving recordings of a castrato, one can hear that the lower part of the voice sounds like a "super-high" tenor, with a more falsetto-like upper register above that.
I I were a guy, I'm not sure if I would be willing to give up my sexual identity for my art. But upon reading the wiki article - the vocal range of prepubescence is largely retained, unrivalled lung-power and breath capacity, voices that were extraordinarily flexible - I would consider for just a millisecond of a millisecond of going under the knife. Of course, I would never do it, but imagine the possibilities that would lie ahead? If nothing else, I would make quite a killing busking the streets of Vienna, 'cause I can tell ya, the Viennese castrato had quite a booty in that little hat of his...nonetheless, at the end of the day, I would prefer that my booty remain intact between my legs instead of having it lying on a street somewhere...
I finished reading my book about Gershwin on the way to Vienna I'm sad to say. Sad because that's how I always feel when I've finished reading a really good book. That's how I felt when I finished "Love in the time of cholera" or "The Lord of the Rings" or Frida Kahlo's biography or all the other wonderful books I've read so far - you just don't want the book to end, you want it to go on and on and on...
Despite the fact that I already knew a bit about George before I started reading the book, I have to say that it was quite an eye-opener. He was quite a dichotonous fellow, our George was. I guess we all are when you think about it. On the one hand, he was full of confidence, flashy, over the top and yet, he was never able to find his niche in the flashiest of towns, Hollywood. A complete and utter workaholic, able to write the "Rhapsody in Blue" in a mere five weeks and yet addicted to partying night after night with the glitteratti. A man of the world and yet, naive enough to be able to say the words of the title of this post to Arthur Schoenberg while playing a game of tennis. I think Arthur almost gagged.
Interestingly enough, even though they are at two opposite poles when it comes to music and composing, there are a number of similarities between Gershwin and Mozart. First of all, they both began to show an interest in music because of an older sibling - Mozart at the age of three when he attended sister Anna Maria's or Nannerl's piano lessons which her father gave her when she was seven, while George was fascinated by his brother's piano playing when he was ten. Both, of course, surpassed their siblings enormously.
Another similarity is that both George and Mozart were "song pluggers" well before their compositional talents were recognised. Mozart was, as we all know, a child prodigy and toured around Europe with Nannerl and dad demonstrating their many musical talents. And of course, while on tour was influenced by the greatest composers of the time. Gershwin, even though not officially a child prodigy, was from age 15 a song plugger at Remick's, one of Tin Pan Alley's foremost publishers of popular music. It was here that Gershwin, during the almost three years he worked there doing a minimum of 10 hour a day shifts, learnt to transpose music in all 12 keys at the drop of a hat, as well as playing, and listening to, all the leading Tin Pan Alley compositions of the time.
And of course, both left this world much, much too early, just like many other great composers such as Schubert, Chopin, Scriabin, Pergolesi - Mozart at the age of 35, Gerswhin at 37. Gershwin never did get around to composing the "simple" Mozart string quartet he talked to Schoenberg about so we'll never know how he would have interpreted Mozart's "simplicity".
But isn't it funny how Mozart's compositions are seemingly "simple" to the ear? And yet, at closer hearing or when you take a sheet of his music, you see that it is very, very far from simple - in fact, there's very little that's simple about his intricate harmonies and melodies.
I have to admit that I hadn't been to a concert in ages and wanted to have a closer "hearing" of Mozart while I was in Vienna. So I treated my son and I to one while in Vienna as a birthday gift to him 'cause he's an absolute nut about Mozart - to the point that my friend Irina and I had to make him a Mozart costume for Carnevale two years ago! We did such a good job that he even won first prize at school for it!
Now, I wasn't expecting much of the concert, something more touristy than high art to be honest. I searched the internet to see what was available and came across a concert taking place on the Friday while we were there in one of the thirteen houses that Mozart lived in while in Vienna. The place is called, surprise surprise, Mozarthaus and is located just off Vienna's main square. And even less than the concert itself, I wasn't expecting much of the location.
Well, what a surprise my son and I were in for. Because I honestly could not have pictured a more beautiful setting for listening to Mozart, Haydn and Bach (I thought there'd be Schubert as well, the only disappointment I suffered that evening). I had pictured a large hall or auditorium with umpteen seats but was pleasantly surprised to walk into a smallish room - it could not have measured more than 40 square metres - with 10 times 5 rows of seats. And when we walked into the room, both our jaws simultaneously dropped to the floor and we uttered a loud "Ah!". I later saw that everyone did this upon walking in. This is how the programme describes it:
The "Concerts in the Mozart house" take place in the oldest concert hall in Vienna where Mozart used to work and play for Bishop Colloredo in 1781. Mozart lived in this house in the year 1781 from 16th March to 2nd May.
The Sala Terrena with its beautiful vault is situated on the ground floor next to the church and the sacristy. It was designed and painted in the second half of the 18th century in late Renaissance Venetian style...The grotesque scenes, the scenes of baroque sensuality, the floral paintings and the animal scenes give evidence of the purpose of this hall, as a place of pleasure for body and soul. The famous Viennese popular figure "der liebe Augustin" is also depicted here.
In the course of the renovation of this hall, it became evident that this is the oldest part of the building. Fragments of gothic frescos were found and this seems to confirm the tradition that even before the Holy Cross had existed there.
Now, the film that I took of the room isn't that great - the resolution is quite terrible - but I think it'll give you a general idea of it:
As I said, I didn't expect much of the music. But just like the setting, I was pleasantly surprised. Now don't get me wrong - they weren't the Juilliard Quartet, far from it. But it was so lovely listening to the wonderful music coming from those strings, vibrating throughout the room, how the instruments interacted, these inanimate objects coming to life and conversing with one another, and watching how the players communicated with eachother through the raising of an eyebrow or the nod of the head or a smile. Not one CD or YouTube video can capture magic like that.
And see, no matter how good or bad a live performance is, the beauty of it is that it will always capture a time, an emotion and encapsulate it in that moment. And even though the moment comes and goes, sometimes too quickly, it stays with us for a long time to come. Just like Gershwin. Just like Mozart.
It's strange how cities or countries can rever some of their fellow citizens and yet revolt against others. On every street, on every street corner, in every store you'll find something or other with Sissi's likeness on it. From chocolates to mugs to plates to china dolls, there's some item or other with her face or figure printed on it. And yet, you can't find a thing with her fellow country woman, Marie Antoinette on it, despite the fact that, funnily enough, she was more "Austrian" than Sissi. In fact, Sissi was not Austrian at all, except by marriage. Rather, she was a German Bavarian. And yet, no female figure is more prominent in the Austrian capital than Sissi.
Funny thing history, isn't it? As George Santayan said "History is always written wrong, and so always needs to be rewritten." It now seems that MA wasn't as bad or silly a woman as many historians have made her out to be. For example, the phrase that she apparently coined "let them eat cake" was in fact meant to be benevolent - she just perhaps didn't put it quite the way she should have. The site www.phrases.org.uk says the following:
The original French is 'Qu'ils mangent de la brioche'. It has been suggested that the speaker's intention wasn't as cynical as is generally supposed. French law required bakers to sell loaves at fixed prices and fancy loaves had to be sold at the same price as basic breads. This was aimed at preventing bakers from selling just the more profitable expensive products. The let them eat brioche (a form of cake made of flour, butter and eggs) would have been a sensible suggestion in the face of a flour shortage as it would have allowed the poor to eat what would otherwise have been unaffordable. It's rather a mouthful, so to speak, but if the phrase had been reported as 'let them buy cake at the same price as bread' we might now think better of the French nobility.
Now wouldn't it be nice if "cake" was cheaper than bread nowadays? I wouldn't have spent a small fortune in Demel were that the case. Mind you, a small fortune that I was and am happy to have parted with. As the author of the book "Kaffeehaus", Rick Rodgers, says "to pastry lovers, it is impossible to visit Vienna without a pilgrimage to Demel, the doyenne of Vienna's Kaffeehauser." And being a pastry lover (well, more cake than pastry. Not too fond of puff or filo pastry unless I make it myself. A totally different taste experience), I have to agree.
Founded in 1786 by Ludwig Dehne, it is a Viennese landmark situated just across the road from the entrance to the Hofburg. This wasn't always the case. It was first located on Michaelerplatz, about 50 metres away. When Dehne died, his widow moved just down the road and made sure that the kaffeehaus became the "Imperial Sugar Bakery", or Hofsuckerbakerei (try saying that after a couple of beers!) which is logical seeing its location. But my favourite Demel story is that for a time, the renowned baker Franz Sacher worked there. When he moved on, the recipe for his world famous cake stayed behind. And it took more than 100 years for the courts to settle who was the owner of the brand "The Original Sacher Torte". Unfortunately, it was not Demel but Hotel Sacher.
But who cares? A name is just a name. It's what's on the inside that counts, isn't it, you know, l'essentiel and all? I'm lucky enough to have a son who enjoys eating as much as I do. So while while we were in Vienna, we made daily pilgrammages to Demel. Even though my favourite cake is bischottentorte (I think that's how you write it...), I promised myself to try a different cake every day. So on the first day, I HAD to have a slice of bischottentorte, the next I had russichepunschtorte (almost the same as the bischottentorte to be honest...and just as difficult to write...) and on the last some himbeertorte. And every single morsel of every single cake was absolutely divine and worth every Euro cent.
And that's the thing - even though high quality does have a price, it's a price that I'm willing to pay. I like the French philosophy - have a little bit of something good than a lot of something bad. Even though the kaffeehaus "Aida" is a bit cheaper, I'd rather just one slice of Demel than a whole Aida cake.
I do go on, don't I? Well, enough from me, let the pictures do the talking:
The store sign. You can see the entrance to the Hofburg in the background
The display window adjacent to the kitchen.
The Demel store. Or heaven on earth.
This photo, as you can see, is a bit shaky. Guess I was too excited at the prospect of digging into my bischottentorte...
"Cream coloured ponies and crisp apple strudels...these are a few of my favourite things"
Wouldn't mind a few of these pressies under my Christmas tree...
You could hear a pin drop in the kitchen...look at that concentration...
Well, not quite. But nonetheless, tomorrow I'm off to the city of apple strudel, wiener schnitzel, the waltz and Sissi (my daughter's favourite Viennese idol).
Now, Vienna isn't my absolute favourite city in the world but it is definitely on my Top 10 list of favourite cities. And even though it is a bit "northern" for my taste (I prefer the sultry Mediterranean countries like France, Italy and Spain when it comes to holidaying), it does have a certain charm that lures me to go back time and time again. Sauntering around the countless parks, gardens and palaces, feasting on a piece of cake or two and coffee at Demel or Sacher daintily served on a silver tray with a white lace napkin and a glass of water on the side, going to see the latest exhibition (and Vienna certainly does have the finest exhibitions in close proximity to Zagreb. I'm gonna see Van Gogh tomorrow), gazing wide-eyed at all the magnificent Art Nouveau buildings (my favourite period of art). I can certainly see why the city inspired such geniuses as Mozart, Haydn, Schubert, Strauss and Beethoven among others.
Better go now, have to get some zzz's 'cause it's a 5 o'clock wake up call tomorrow morning. I'll leave you with my favourite "Viennese" song. I know it's corny, I know it's old-fashioned, I know it's soppily romantic but I just love it. Sort of like Vienna really. And a lot like me too, come to think of it.
So bis bald Wien or see you soon Vienna. And hear from you soon my dearest readers. Promise to post lots of pics upon my return!
