Ah – remember Nigel Kennedy – goody 2 shoes punk wannabe turgid vivaldi popularist…
I’m thinking of starting a new career as a music snob – why not, I know nothing about music, I’m ideally qualified.
I was mooching north up Lambton Quay today wondering if the equinoctial gales had come early and I heard the sound of a violin. Wellington and its buskers. Often they’re kids, with surprisingly good dentition, doing their dog and pony act. What is it about Wellington? I swear, some of the crappest buskers in the world. And, part of the charm of the place is just that – you – maybe even I could get out and busk, and I, and definitely you, would not be the worst busker in the street. Although once I got there the battle for worst would be on.
As I got closer the tune changed to that most traumatic of violin slices, Vivaldi’s Winter – a spikey subplot to the wintery day. You might, if you’re ultra elderly, remember 2ZM and Music Manor and their jingle – ‘Come, come to the Music Manor, if you’re a music fan or, just looking, music to hear…’
Note to self: getting pathetic with age.
And there was the kid – a child of the age of aquarius. Blond, blue eyed, perfect teeth. I hate him. Playing music without looking at the music.
And when he turned, not in the least engrossed with the majestic sweep of the music, instead he managed to look at the pedestrians, and at his accumulated funds lest someone hook his hard earned cash; and in the light and at that exact moment, he looked with such a rodent-like squint the only thing missing was some whiskers and a tail. He was a better rat than that rat guy – wossname – Wormtail – in the Harry Potter movies.
I think it was the teeth.