Tuesday, October 19, 2010
30 Days of Truth: Day Thirteen
This is a tough one.
There are so many people I could (and should) write letters too. Of course, Clapton is at the top of the list. Then there are all the basement and garage musicians, the unsung heroes if you will. And how far back in history do I go? I mean, do I thank Chopin for writing the stuff, or do I thank Van Cliburn for playing it so well? Or shall I give Pavarotti a verbal hug that just as well belongs to Mozart?
Perhaps I should thank the lady who wrote the Happy Birthday song, or the bloke that penned For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.
I could send verbal hugs to Irving Berlin, or Aaron Copeland, or Scott Joplin, or John Phillips Sousa, or Billy Eckstein.
Maybe I should thank Toscanini, or Stokowski, or Mancini, or Fiedler.
I should thank Rodgers & Hammerstein, or Rodgers & Hart, or Monsieurs Laurents, Bernstein, Sondheim, Schönberg, Boublil, and Webber.
If I did write a letter to Clapton, is it just to him? Or to Derek and the Dominos? Or to Cream? Or to all the blues greats who influenced his style? And the greats who influenced them?
See, the thing is, music is the blood that runs through my veins. To thank any one musician would be like claiming one single dish gave me the entire sustenance of my life.
I can't do that.
I won't do that.
"Nobody can tell ya there's only one song worth singin'..."
Posted by Barb Black at 6:00:00 AM