The most prolific imitator of his Odes was the Bavarian monk, Metellus of Tegernsee , who dedicated his work to the patron saint of Tegernsee Abbey , St Quirinus , around the year He imitated all Horace's lyrical meters then followed these up with imitations of other meters used by Prudentius and Boethius, indicating that variety, as first modelled by Horace, was considered a fundamental aspect of the lyric genre. The content of his poems however was restricted to simple piety.
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Petrarch is a key figure in the imitation of Horace in accentual meters. His verse letters in Latin were modelled on the Epistles and he wrote a letter to Horace in the form of an ode. However he also borrowed from Horace when composing his Italian sonnets. One modern scholar has speculated that authors who imitated Horace in accentual rhythms including stressed Latin and vernacular languages may have considered their work a natural sequel to Horace's metrical variety.
I turned the volume all the way up in order to get the maximum amount of 'fi' , and carefully placed the all-purpose osmium-tipped needle on the lead-in spiral to "Ionisation. When she heard what came out of that little speaker on the bottom of the Decca, she looked at me like I was out of my fucking mind.
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It had sirens and snare drums and bass drums and a lion's roar and all kinds of strange sounds on it. She forbade me to play it in the living room ever again.
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I told her that I thought it was really great, and I wanted to listen to it all the way through. She told me to take the record player into my bedroom.
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The record player stayed in my room, and I listened to EMS over and over and over, poring through the liner notes for every bit of information I could glean. I couldn't understand all the musical terms, but I memorized them anyway. They also thought I was out of my fucking mind. On my fifteenth birthday, my mother said she would spend five dollars on me a lot of money for us then , and asked me what I wanted. I said, "Well, instead of buying me something, why don't you just let me make a long-distance phone call?
I deduced that a person who looked like a mad scientist could only live in a place called Greenwich Village. Sure enough, they did. They even gave me the address: His wife, Louise, answered the phone. I don't remember exactly what I said when I finally spoke to him -- probably something articulate like "Gee -- I really dig your music.
When you're fifteen and living in the Mojave Desert, and you find out that the World's Greatest Composer who also looks like a mad scientist is working in a secret Greenwich Village laboratory on a 'song about your hometown' so to speak , you can get pretty excited. I found one book that had a photo of him as a young man, and a quote, saying he would be just as happy growing grapes as being a composer.
Sounds pretty official, eh? The cover was a green-and-black abstract whatchamacallit, and it had a magenta paper label with black lettering. The other composer who filled me with awe -- I couldn't believe that anybody would write music like that -- was Anton Webern. I heard an early recording on the Dial label with a cover by an artist named David Stone Martin -- it had one or two of Webern's string quartets, and his Symphony op. I didn't know anything about twelve-tone music then, but I liked the way it sounded. To me it was all good music.
There were a few teachers in school who really helped me out. Kavelman, the band instructor at Mission Bay High, gave me the answer to one of the burning musical questions of my youth. I couldn't understand why I loved that record so much, but I figured that, since he was a music teacher, maybe he knew. He was the first person to tell me about twelve-tone music.
It's not that he was a fan of it, but he did mention the fact that it existed, and I am grateful to him for that. I never would have heard Webern if it hadn't been for him. Ballard was the high school music instructor at Antelope Valley High. He let me conduct the orchestra a couple of times, let me write music on the blackboard, and had the orchestra play it.
Ballard also did me a big favor without knowing it. As a drummer, I was obliged to perform the gruesome task of playing in the marching band. Ballard threw me out of the marching band for smoking in uniform -- and for that I will be eternally grateful. My English teacher at A. He was also a good friend.
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Don got tired of being a teacher and quit -- he wanted to be a screenwriter. In , he wrote the screenplay for a super-cheap cowboy movie called Run Home Slow, and helped me get my first film scoring job on it. While other guys in high school were spending their money on cars, I spent my money on records I didn't have a car.
I went to used record outlets to buy jukebox records of rhythm-and-blues songs.
The only way I could get a Lightnin' Slim record was to travel a couple hundred miles and buy it secondhand, all scratched up. San Diego had neighborhood gangs, and each neighborhood had its own 'cool band' -- the equivalent of the 'home team' in football. These bands competed with each other -- who had the best musicianship, wardrobe, choreography. A 'good band' had to have at least three saxophones in it one of which had to be a baritone , two guitar players, bass and drums. It was regarded as a more serious band if everybody wore a pink flannel, one-button roll sport coat.
It was really good if they had pants to match -- and it was superb if all the guys in the front row knew the same steps, and if they went 'up and down' at the same time on the fast songs. The people who went to see these bands really loved them. These weren't 'rock shows' put on by 'promoters' -- instead, there were girl gangs who would rent the hall, hire the band, hang the crepe paper, and sell the tickets. I spent more time with Don Captain Beefheart Van Vliet when I was in high school than after he got into 'show business.
He dropped out during his senior year, because his Dad, who was a Helms Bread truck driver, had a heart attack and 'Vliet' as he was known then took over his route for a while -- but most of the time he just stayed home from school.
www.newjerseydecompression.com/wp-content/another/heimlich-fremdes-handy-orten.php Granny Annie lived across the street. The way Don got his 'stage name' was, Uncle Alan had a habit of exposing himself to Laurie. He'd piss with the bathroom door open and, if she was walking by, mumble about his appendage -- something along the lines of: It looks just like a big, fine beef heart. There were piles of sweet rolls in the kitchen, like pineapple buns that didn't sell that day -- the place was crawling with starch -- and we'd eat mounds of them while the records were playing. Every once in a while Don would scream at his mother always in a blue chenille bathrobe , "Sue!
Get me a Pepsi! Our major form of recreation, other than listening to records, was to go for coffee in the middle of the night to the Denny's on the highway. If Don was short on cash this was before he took over the bread truck route , he'd open the back door of the truck, pull out one of the long drawers with the dead buns on it and make Laurie crawl through the slot, into the locked cab, where she would sneak a few bucks out of his Dad's change-maker. After coffee, we'd ride around in his light blue Oldsmobile with the homemade werewolf-head sculpture in the steering wheel, and talk about people who had large ears.
I got married for the first time when I was about twenty years old. I had no interest in higher education, but after finishing high school it occurred to me that if I wasn't in school, I wasn't going to meet any -- so I 'reenlisted. At Chaffey, I met Kay Sherman. We dropped out of school, started living together and got married. I went to work for a company called Nile Running Greeting Cards. Their line consisted mostly of silk-screened greetings, designed for elderly women who liked flowers.