For a fortnight, the classical music critic of the New York Times, Anthony Tommasini, has been engaged in a curious task: determining the top 10 composers of all time. Helped by readers, he has completed the job. But with the high placing for Debussy and rather odd inclusion of Bartók, does it reveal more about the tastes of the east-coast haute bourgeoisie than anything else? 1 Bach ...
Anyone who wants to know the human psyche will learn next to nothing from experimental psychology. He would be better advised to abandon exact science, put away his scholar’s gown, bid farewell to his study, and wander with human heart throught the world. There in the horrors of prisons, lunatic asylums and hospitals, in drab suburban pubs, in brothels and gambling-hells, in the...
“My manuscripts sleep, while I cannot, for I am covered with poultices.” “How strange! This bed on which I shall lie has been slept on by more than one dying man, but today it does not repel me! Who knows what corpses have lain on it and for how long? But is a corpse any worse than I? A corpse too knows nothing of its father, mother or sisters or Titus. Nor has a corpse a...
“Look guys, if you’re just going to stare at me, I’m going to bed!” - Elvis Presley
Dear Fox, The fox is a single red stroke that cuts across the clearing. The colour seems to hang like smoke, you can almost see where he has come from. His musk is specific like a thumbprint on the air. It isn’t raining but there’s a kind of wet on your face, a stickiness of insect juices dropped. The fox is rusty-dull, discreet, not radiant or hot or pulsing. Not agitated. Not randy. He is...