Remember I said that spring was here, and the temps were clement, the sky pure blue? HAHAHAHAHAHA. (inhale) HAHAHAHAHA. Had the heat on the last two days. Cold and dismal, rainy all the time - but that's a natural component of spring, of course. The worst part is seeing the flowering trees bud and bloom, something I always associate with warm breezes.

Happened that way maybe once.

It's after Midnight now, and I know this needs something else. I spent the night on writing and composing - had to turn in a new theme for the Ricochet Podcast, because the snippets of politicians are from bygone eras. Really, Thatcher? Reagan? Dead and buried. The new theme ended up spare and off-kilter, and getting the vocal snippets of the relevant politicians required wading through lots of YouTube clips and getting depressed.

But it wasn't a depressing day; far from it. Took daughter to the Walker Art Museum for this Teen Takeover night, and picked her up with a friend a while later. I was listening to Mahler on the way over and was not about to stop listening, so we listened to a bit of the Seventh because I'm the fun dad, you know. After we dropped off the friend I put on some Chill Bossa Nova, but daughter wanted classical, so I called up Mahler's 1st, 3rd movement. Her eyes lit up: she'd played this at a concert when she was doing cello. She hummed her part and I whistled the mocking winds part.

Which was, frankly, the best thing in life ever.

And so we drove to the grocery store listening to Klezmerized minor-key Frere Jacques movement, and I told the story about its origins - the woodcut of the animals having a mocking funeral of the hunter, the Jewish origin of the instrumentation, which made the Proper People huff and scowl. Such sounds in our concert hall. It wasn't one of those versions that really klezmerizes the movement; about 4 on the Tevye scale.

We sat in the parking lot with the rain beating down on the windshield, and I told her to pay attention: this is the part of the movement that's heartfelt. That isn't a joke. That isn't satire. It's right before the main theme comes back. It always haunted me when I was first learning the symphony; it's a melancholic truth, aloof, beautiful, inarguable.

Then we went in the store and made fun of things. Best day ever, as they say when they're four. Or several multiples of the same.



Today's Construction: you may not know what this is, or was, or why it matters.


It's going to be a park. Odd to think of a park being constructed, but that's what's happening. It's my old parking lot at the Strib, and it's the last piece of Downtown East's big plan. Right? No; they broke ground for the last building this week, the Millwright.


Rather modest. It mirrors the hotel one block down in size, but not style; it's more like the old warehouses of the area, and provides a nice visual bridge to the rest of the area.



Last summer:



It has a webcam.






This being Friday - hoorah! huzzah - it's the music cues for "The Little Things in Life," Peg Lynch's last continuously running sitcom. The cues run from substandard 60s cues to cringingly 70s.

A previously heard cue takes an interesting twist at the end:




I think this one is related:


End of show music, natch.


Filed, no doubt, under "Patriotic."


It's always that drum.



We go all the way back to 1935 for more Horlicks. Joan is listless and failing school. Solution? You know what the solution is:



It's just malted milk, for heavens sake



Wake up! Wake up! The locomotive is heading for the ravine and the bridge is out! Oh if only he'd chewed some Horlicks




This week's Bob & Ray sketch introduces Dean Archer Armstead from the extension service. Loose teeth.



Hubida bobida



It's the Webley Webster voice, but even more unintelligible. The other menthod is the chemical method.

This was early Dean Archer; as you'll see in weeks to come, they expanded the bit to increase the hilarity. I post this here as your baseline for the bit. It gets better.



Says the back: "Here, perhaps for the first time, is music arranged, played and produced especially for your background use.

This music is unique. It will never dominate, yet always be pleasant and listenable. Early in the evening, when the hostess is struggling to get the party off the ground, the music will fill those embarrassing lulls." The first side was done Jack Stern and his Orchestra, the second by Bill Loose and his Orchestra. The latter fellow was one of the conposers of the Capitaol Records music-cue library, many of which were heard in Ren & Stimpy. He also wrote scores for Russ Meyer. An American treasure, Mr. Loose.




"Midnight and Roses." Also from the liner notes:

"When you hear this music in a record store, don't expect to be sent into a toe-tingling trance by any musical pyrotechnics. These albums are designed for background - like a dash of sherry, they'll add flavor to any mixture. And if you're all alone some night with a good book, they're mighty pleasant taken straight!"

Here are people enjoy the background music:




And another week has ambled past; hope yours was good, and the weekend holds promise and delight. Thanks for the visit!



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