Hello there, I'm Peter Sickily, and this is Sickily Mix, a program dedicated to the
proposition that all musics are created equal.
Or as Duke Ellington put it, if it sounds good, it is good.
And the same goes for money.
If it smells good, it is good.
Especially if it's used for noble purposes like this program.
Our bills, as it happens, are paid by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, by the
National Endowment for the Arts, and by this noble radio station, where even I, who was
voted by my high school graduating class least likely to succeed in learning how to operate
anything more complicated than an alarm clock, and at our last reunion, least likely ever
to be able to program his VCR for delayed recording without calling his son, even I
can turn out a show that can be distributed by PRI, Public Radio International.
I was born in 1935, in the midst of the Great Depression.
Now I'm not going to go into one of those, we were so poor we lived in a shoebox in the
middle of the road routines, the family did fine, my dad always had a good job.
But consumer goods were not purchased as casually in those days, to put it mildly, as they came
to be after World War II.
In the late 1930s, my folks, being big Mozart fans, decided to invest in a recording of
Così fan tutte.
Now this was not only before CDs, but before LPs, and an opera like that came in three
volumes each containing six to ten 78s, and they saved up for one volume at a time.
One of the strongest memories of my childhood, lasting into my teens, is of waking up on
Sunday mornings to the smell of bacon and the strains of Così fan tutte.
But you know, even though Così has remained one of my absolute fave raves among all the
pieces ever composed, I've always felt that the last third of it doesn't quite live up
to the first two thirds.
Now is that because Mozart's inspiration actually flagged a bit as the deadline pressed in on
him?
Or is it because I'm not as familiar with the last third due to the fact that my folks
never got around to buying the last volume?
Later of course, they bought the same Gleinborn performance on LP.
But even in the thirties, a violin concerto could be bought in one fell swoop.
And my mother says her favorite recording around the time I was born was of the Mozart
violin concerto known as the Adelaide concerto, played by Yehudi Menuhin.
The reason it meant so much to her then was that everything about it spoke of youth.
A piece written by a child prodigy composer at the age of ten, played by a child prodigy
violinist who, by the time he made this recording, was just turning a ripe old eighteen.
Here's the last movement.
There goes the very old recording alert, let me turn that off.
This particular recording was made in 1934, which means it's a year older than your humble
host.
♪♪
Okay, now I hear you. The more technical-minded of you are saying, so why didn't the very old recording alert go off?
There are two reasons. Reason one, I disarmed that puppy so it couldn't give anything away.
Reason two, I figured that some of you were going to cheat by listening more to the sound quality than to the music,
so I actually doctored the more recent recordings to make them sound older.
I'm bad, I'm bad. I just slay myself.
Now, musical prodigies, like child actors, are apt to have problems in their teenage years.
I mean, don't we all, but special problems. They're no longer cute, and they face the danger of burnout.
I know a pianist who, now I may not have these numbers exactly right, but pretty close,
he was playing piano by the time he was four, he was playing in public by the time he was six,
he played his first concerto with an orchestra when he was eight,
and when I got to know him when he was twenty, he was bored, even though he still loved music.
The extremely competitive aspect of the concert pianist world bothered him,
and he found, at that point, his greatest pleasure in chamber music.
Now, a couple of decades later, he still plays professionally, but not full-time.
He seems to need to balance his playing with non-musical activity.
Me, I'm Peter Schickele, and I seem to need to balance my poker playing with things like Schickele Mix,
from PRI, Public Radio International.
Today's show is called Prodigious Talents.
Now, with singers, it's quite different than it is with instrumentalists.
In the first place, you don't really know what you've got, vocally-wise speaking, until you're past puberty.
And then, no matter how talented you are, if you haven't been given a beautiful singing voice,
you can forget about becoming a classical singer.
Or at least you should forget about it.
In classical music, you can't do an end run and make it work anyway, like Bob Dylan or Rex Harrison.
Singers are often kidded about having more temperament than brains.
That is, of course, a gross exaggeration, at the very least.
But if it sometimes seems to have the shadow of a kernel of truth in it,
it's because there are more than a few singers around who really hadn't thought much about music,
one way or the other, until they discovered, or were told, that they had beautiful voices.
With instrumentalists, the person chooses music.
With singers, music chooses the person.
Still, and especially if you broaden the field, there are some vocal artists who get off to a pretty self-assured start.
I could tell my story for whom it would hurt
And now I can see that there's no hope for me
I'm a girl left alone, there's no hope for me
I'm tossed and thrown like a ship on the sea
There was a mistake and now I will pay
For those that still love me, I must go this way
They hear the great story of the great eternity
Where souls can be happy, I will be free
I know I will suffer in this world eternally
But in heaven I wonder if there'll be hope for me
That was Dolly Parton at the age of 13.
Dolly Parton at the age of 13.
There was a mistake and now I must go this way
Oh, come and find Oh, come and find
Here I am, here I am I've been here forever
There was a mistake and now I must go this way
One of those three boys was Yussi Björling at the age of nine.
Don't ask me which.
I have a fair woman in me
On the far away strand
She's the beauty of the moon
Oh, sorrow
Filled by tears
Oh, sorrow
Where we never shall die
Tears will run away
We'll never
Oh, oh
We'll never
Oh, oh
Land never grew old
There is a land where we never
Oh, oh
Never
Oh, oh
Land will never grow old
There is a land where we never
Oh, oh
Land will never grow old
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Aretha Franklin at the age of 14,
singing Never Grow Old.
Does she tear your heart out or what?
That middle recording of a setting by Gunnar Vennerberg
of the Fourth Psalm was made in about 1920,
and all three of the boys are Bjorlings, Ola, Jussi, and Guste.
And Dolly Parton sang and wrote Puppy Love.
Hey, I'm glad I disabled that very old recording alert,
because this next one is, are you ready for this, a 45 RPM.
Yep, with one of those big holes in the middle.
Fortunately, I still have one, and only one, but one's all it takes,
of those plastic thingamajigs to put in the center.
This song is called Rock Around Mother Goose,
and the singer, I would guess from the fact that the song on the flip side is called Seven,
is approximately seven years old.
Rock, rock, rock around Mother Goose
Rock, rock, one more time
Rock me another Mother Goose rhyme
Mary had a little lamb
A little lamb, a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb
His fleece was white as snow
And everywhere that Mary went
Mary went, Mary went
Everywhere that Mary went
Lamb hollered, go, go, go
Bones and bridges fall inside
Fall inside, fall inside
Bones and bridges fall inside
My fair lady
Bones and bridges breaking up
Breaking up, breaking up
Bones and bridges breaking up
Cause all the cows are jumping on one wooden bridge
Rock, rock, rock around Mother Goose
Rock, rock, one more time
Rock me another Mother Goose rhyme
Hickory dickory dock
A mouse ran up the clock
A clock struck one, down he rocked
Hickory dickory dock
Another mouse ran up the clock
A clock struck two, but he knew what to do
He should see him rock around the clock
Rock, rock, rock around Mother Goose
Rock, rock, one more time
Rock me another Mother Goose rhyme
Rock, rock, rock around Mother Goose
Rock, rock, one more time
Be-bop-be-bop-be-bo
Yeah!
Barry Gordon giving it his all
Rock around Mother Goose
I don't know, is it the white,
Midwestern, Protestant part of me,
and I don't ask this rhetorically,
that is made a bit uncomfortable
by kids who try to act or sing
too much like adults?
Maybe it is.
I saw a film clip from an old
all-black movie once in which
a four-year-old Sammy Davis Jr.
just tore up a staid courtroom
with his flashy dancing.
It was pretty great.
But I don't know, this one...
Well, let me put it this way.
Again, a sincere question.
Is there a difference between
a kid imitating adults because
he wants to be like the adults
and a kid imitating adults because
he knows they'll tell him how cute he is?
I'm not sure.
But I do know, actually, that I wish
kids in my culture were brought up
to be much less inhibited
about singing and dancing.
Listen to the beginning of this
beautifully sexy, slinky rendition
of It Ain't Necessarily So.
playing in bright rhythm
Does it change your perception of that
to know that it's being played
by a 9-year-old girl?
playing in bright rhythm
Sarah Chang, at the age of 9,
playing Gershwin's It Ain't Necessarily So
on a quarter-sized violin.
The arrangement was by Jascha Heifetz
and Sandra Rivers was the pianist.
That's some fiddle playing.
And life goes on.
Georges Inescu was bowled over
by the 11-year-old Yehudi Menuhin.
And decades later,
Yehudi Menuhin said,
I thought Sarah Chang was the most
wonderful, perfect, ideal violinist
I had ever heard.
And he's heard a lot more violinists
than I have.
My name's Peter Schickele.
And by the way,
in case there are any Cincinnati kids out there,
don't come looking for me.
I just play dime-ante,
you know, pretty panty-waist poker.
Wild cards, anaconda.
We do draw the line at Indian,
where you hold your whole card up to your forehead
so that everyone can see it except you.
But still, we quit about 10-15.
You know, Monday's a weeknight.
I just don't want to attract any gunslingers here.
Peter Schickele is the name.
Schickele Mix is the game.
From PRI, Public Radio International.
Prodigious talents.
We're talking about musical youngsters here,
but now I'd like to shift the emphasis
from young soloists to family members.
There is something about the ties that bind.
I have on occasion made appearances
with my son and daughter,
who are both in their 20s now,
singing songs by the Everly Brothers and the Coasters.
And even at our first rehearsal,
it feels as if we've been working for days.
We're way ahead of the game
in matters of inflection and nuance
just because we lived together for so long.
Here are three different constellations of kin.
A pianist playing a concerto
written by his grandfather and conducted by his father.
A great big family gathering
of relatives by blood and marriage.
And a father and his daughter
singing a song whose words
are well worth paying close attention to.
I call this suite All in the Family,
and it lasts less than 11 minutes.
piano & violin play softly
Because I believe
And have found salvation
When I die, when I die
I'll live again
That I may take part
In the jubilation
When I die, when I die
I'll live again
When I die, when I die
I'll live again, I'll live again
Hallelujah, I'll live again
Because I'm forgiven
My soul will find heaven
When I die, when I die
I'll live again, I'll live again
The fear of the grave
Is removed forever
When I die, when I die
I'll live again
My soul will rejoice
By the crystal river
When I die, when I die
I'll live again
When I die, when I die
I'll live again, I'll live again
Hallelujah, I'll live again
Because I'm forgiven
My soul will find heaven
When I die, when I die
I'll live again, I'll live again
Because of the Lord
I have made confession
When I die, when I die
I'll live again
For now on my soul
There is no transgression
When I die, when I die
I'll live again
When I die, when I die
I'll live again, I'll live again
Hallelujah, I'll live again
Because I'm forgiven
My soul will find heaven
When I die, when I die
I'll live again
guitar solo
Oh, daddy
When you gonna write that
You did me
Oh, daddy
When you gonna give me
A big, real thing
Well, now that's a tall request
For such a small little girl
But I'll try, I'll try
Till I get it just right
Cause I'm gonna make it
Maybe even twice, yeah
guitar solo
Oh, daddy
When you gonna make it
To the big time, yeah
Oh, daddy
When you gonna blow up the big thing
Well, it's like a backstage pass
Into paradise
There's a long, lonely waiting list
But I'm gonna give it
Everything I got to give, yeah
Oh, daddy
When you gonna be a big star
I got a suit and a pink guitar
Oh, daddy
When you gonna break it wide open
I don't know, but I still keep hoping
Oh, daddy
Are you gonna make a million bucks
Oh, it takes a whole lot of luck
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
guitar solo
Oh, daddy
When you gonna have that fat Cadillac
Like you always say
Oh, daddy
When you gonna put on some stretch pants
Yeah
Well, don't hold your breath
Cause it'll make you blue
But the whole lot's not over yet
And I aim to make the fat lady sweat, yeah
Oh, daddy
When you gonna make it to the top
All I know is I'm not gonna stop
Oh, daddy
What are you gonna buy your little girl
Hey, I'm gonna get you Disney World
Oh, daddy
You can hit the jackpot, yeah
Like I told you
And I don't hold your breath, yeah
Oh, daddy, daddy
Hey, I'm gonna buy you Disney World
All in the family.
We began with the first movement
from Shostakovich's first string quartet
for piano, trumpet, and strings in C minor.
And that was Dmitri Shostakovich Jr.,
that is, the composer's grandson,
playing the piano
with Maxim Shostakovich conducting.
And that was the Musici di Montreal
with James Thompson on trumpet.
A sad note there is that Dmitri,
his own Dmitri, was born in 1961
on the day his grandfather died.
Then we heard from Doc Watson's family,
When I Die,
and there are about 12 of them
here on the cover.
It's a real family get-together.
And then finally, we had Adrian Ballou
in one of my favorite songs, Oh, Daddy,
and that was his daughter, Audie Ballou,
singing on the refrains there.
Now, we've been dealing today with kids
who were very much encouraged to go into music.
Either they came from a musical family
or they came from a family that set a lot of store
in their kids doing well in music.
But a lot of what you might call regular musicians,
non-soloists,
try to discourage their kids from going into music
because it's a high-burnout profession.
And although some musicians do very well,
there are a lot of them out there that are barely making a living.
I mean, they're really scrounging to get by.
I was standing with a bunch of symphony orchestra musicians
once at the break in a rehearsal,
and this one guy was saying,
You know, my son has said he wants to be a musician.
I'm trying to talk him out of it.
And I talked to him last weekend.
He's at college, and he said,
Hey, Dad, I've decided not to be a musician after all.
And I said, Great.
And he said, I'm going to be a poet.
¦
And that's Shickly Mix for this week.
Our program is made possible with funds provided
by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting,
by the National Endowment for the Arts,
and its members. Thank you, members.
And not only that, our program has a habit
of being distributed by PRI, Public Radio International.
We'll tell you in a moment how you can get
an official playlist of all the music on today's program
with album numbers and everything.
Just refer to the program number.
This is program number 95.
And this is Peter Shickly saying goodbye
and reminding you that it don't mean a thing
if it ain't got that certain je ne sais quoi.
You're looking good. See you next week.
¦
If you'd like a copy of that playlist I mentioned,
send a stamped self-addressed envelope to Shickly Mix.
That's S-C-H-I-C-K-E-L-E, Shickly Mix.
Care of Public Radio International,
100 North 6th Street, Suite 900A, Minneapolis, MN 55403.
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