So, here I am, all trussed up in my sweats, several layers of them, resisting turning up the thermostat, because that will raise the PG&E bill, and it is still early in the fall, right? Don't know what has happened to global warming in our little corner of the globe. Here, it has been unseasonably cold for summer, with only a day or two of heat in between. Don't want to know what that has done to our monocultural crop of grapes. Late harvest, for sure. Low sugar, probably. Bitter wine. Couldn't care less, not doing wine any more. Meanwhile, contemplating alerting my local classical station to the ingenuity of my favorite streamed station, RMF Classic, from Krakow, Poland. They don't play those dry-as-dust contemporaries of Mozart or Beethoven or Bach, guys. If they are languishing in obscurity, there is a REASON, guys. Why not pull out some Dvorak or Katchutorian or Sibelius, the lesser known pieces, or Ralph Vaughn Williams? Today I heard an amazing piece by Williams. Couldn't tell you what it was. The crawl was in Polish. Still, there is a wealth of bouncy, perky music out there that is obscure only because these composers have such a bounty of more performed works. Okay, they don't have to stoop to Sting or Harry Connick, Jr., but an occasional TV theme would be nice. Yesterday, RMF Classic played the theme to Dr. Kildare (Richard Chamberlain, Raymond Massey, in the '60s, remember?). I almost wept with the joy of it. Well, that felt good. I will admit, I like romantic music. No longer ashamed of that, either. Everyone should just get over it.
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