Your Standard B-Flat Bugs

Schickele Mix Episode #154

Part of The Schickele Mix Online Fan Archive

Official description
Even more about … er, bugs
Premiere
1998-02-04
“Peter, are you ready?”
Oh man, I'd really rather not be disturbed, but here's the theme.

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You can listen to this episode on the Internet Archive, and follow along using a transcript.

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Transcript

[This is a machine-generated transcript, cleaned up and formatted as HTML. You can download the original as an .srt file.]

Oh, man, I'd really rather not be disturbed, but here's the theme.
[No speech for 16s.]
Hello there, I'm Peter Schickele, and this is Schickele 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.
But you knew that.
Our bills are paid by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and by this radio station, within whose walls I usually do the show and whence the show is distributed by PRI,
Public Radio International.
The reason I say usually is that we're doing a Schickele Mix first this time.
I'm doing the whole show on location, as you can probably tell. We've gone on location before for specific things, like the time I went to England to get just the right choral group to sing a brief musical excerpt, but this is the first time the whole program has been done on location.
And what a location.
I'm here in the Wigglesworth Gardens, about ten miles out of town.
I don't know if you know about this place, but if you don't, you should.
It's so beautiful and so peaceful here. The Wigglesworths were a wealthy English family that used to raise thoroughbred horses here.
But at one point, their youngest daughter got into some kind of trouble, a romantic-type trouble, I think it was.
Maybe she was the inspiration for the old vaudeville joke, she was only a jockey's daughter, but all the horsemen knew her. Well, anyway, the Wigglesworths decided to give this place up and move back to England. They donated these beautiful gardens to the city to use as a park.
I read about a study recently which proved what most of us would have guessed anyway, namely that it's a worldwide phenomenon. The bigger the city, the faster the pace.
And if you find yourself running in the rat race
with no finish line in sight, a place like this could be a real escape,
a real time-out.
Or if there's a botanical garden in your city,
it can be a real oasis.
My parents lived in Rome for 11 years, and the Protestant cemetery in Rome was such an oasis. It was quite extensive and had lots of trees, so that even in the summer, it was cool and quiet. Those of us who live in the country, or who are lucky enough to have country places, can enjoy this special kind of solitude often.
It's not total solitude. It's not like meditating in an unfurnished, well-sound insulated room.
I suppose in those surroundings, you can really get into yourself and beyond, unless you end up climbing the walls.
But it seems to me that being in the country on a beautiful summer day is the wild equivalent of sitting in a sidewalk café in the city. In the café, you're solitary, but surrounded by traffic and endlessly interesting people, whereas in the country, you're solitary, but also surrounded by intense activity, some of it due to birds and breezes, but most of it due to the activities of insects.
And that's why we're doing today's show here. It's one of our insect shows. On others, we've dealt with insects, and I use the term loosely, that people tend to have some negative feelings about living with, fleas, cockroaches, lice.
But today, we're going to hear from good old
garden variety insects, or as a studio musician might call them, your standard B-flat bugs, such as butterflies.
Our butterfly suite has three numbers, and they all have butterfly in the title, but I'd like to say something about the last two. The second number in the suite is the only musical work that I happen to know of,
which endeavors to depict the transformation of a caterpillar into a butterfly.
And the last number, just in case there's anyone out there
who has the program music equivalent of perfect pitch, the last number has not only butterflies, but also hummingbirds in the title. Just wanted to make sure you don't get confused.
Although, fortunately, I don't have a phone out here in the garden, so even if I hadn't announced that, you wouldn't be able to call me up and say, hey, how about a little truth in labeling here?
That place about 27 seconds into the piece, that's no butterfly, that's a hummingbird, or my name isn't J.J. Audubon.
Just take it easy, relax.
I'll be back in about six and a half minutes.
[No speech for 87s.]
The caterpillar knoweth not that he a fleet-winged butterfly will someday be, nor doth the bounding butterfly recall his lowly childhood when he could but crawl.
By what strange alchemy do nature's scythes turn caterpillars into butterflies?
[No speech for 283s.]
We began with the papillon movement of Schumann's Carnaval,
played by Anton Quirti.
Then we heard the butterfly movement from Bestiary, played by Calliope and composed, as I expect you guessed, by the narrator, whose name, by a remarkable coincidence, is Peter Schickele.
Now, it's too bad you couldn't see that piece being performed.
At the end of each section, each of the three wind players passes his instrument to his right and receives another from his left, so that the gradual change from the large, earth-bound sack-butts,
or trombones, through the mid-range crumb-horns to the small airborne recorders is perceived through the eyes as well as through the ears. Then that delicious last piece was No. 5 of the Twelve New Etudes for Piano by William Balcombe, performed by Marc-André Hamelin, or Hamelin.
I'm not sure which it is, but he sure can play that much I know.
By the way, I suppose, talking about truth in labeling, that I really ought to mention that the narration texts and the occasional sung lyrics in my work, Bestiary, come from various medieval and Renaissance sources, 12th to 17th century writers, but I do have a bit of a confession to make.
Now, this is just between you and me, okay?
Please don't tell anybody.
As a matter of fact, if you're not alone, turn the radio down so that the people around you won't hear. Now, I'm not saying that I spent years combing every library I could get to
or anything like that, but I did look through a lot of poetry collections, and I just could not find any old poems in English about caterpillars turning into butterflies.
I would have thought that that transformation would have been used as a metaphor all over the place, but no, at least not in the poems I looked at.
Now, all the other pieces in Bestiary have verbal set-ups.
I didn't want the members of the audience to have to follow their printed programs.
So what I did was, well...
I wrote the poem myself.
The author is listed as anonymous, but enough said. Our little secret, okay?
If anyone asks you, as will almost certainly happen, who wrote the butterfly section of that beautiful piece, Bestiary, just say, ah, yes, the music is by Peter Schickele,
host of Schickele Mix from PRI, Public Radio International.
In very dramatic landscapes, like the Grand Canyon or the coast of Maine, high noon is often not the best time for sightseeing because there are no shadows to speak of. Early in the morning or late in the afternoon, you can see the contours of the land much better. But at our little place in upstate New York, noon on a peerless summer day can be absolutely magical.
Most of the birds are resting. There's usually little or no wind.
Sometimes it feels supernaturally still.
I don't think I'm ever as serenely relaxed as I am at those times.
It's as if everybody and everything is chilling out, except the insects.
No rest for the many-legged.
Today's show is called Your Standard B-Flat Bugs, and I'm broadcasting from the lovely Wigglesworth Gardens outside of town, which are open a very generous number of hours each day and which have graciously allowed me to set up my equipment here so that we can be close to the subject of our program.
Okay, now I just said no rest for the many-legged, but strictly speaking, that's not true. Now that they've developed such sophisticated ways of tracking even the smallest animals, it turns out that if you actually follow one ant throughout the day, he has periods of rest, just like other animals.
The reason that an anthill looks like Grand Central Station at rush hour is that there are so many ants, and since they're not members of the same race as ours, they all look alike. Our ant suite has three numbers.
The first is a reflection on an individual ant's position in ant society, and by extension, that of each of us in ours. The second is an instrumental piece called Entrance of the Ants. It's part of a ballet score.
And the third is a song that's in English, but it goes by so fast that I'd better give you the title.
It's called Ant Sue's Ant Soup.
I'll see you in about ten and a half minutes.
Here we go.
[No speech for 26s.]
Mm-mm-mm
And not so long as I'm afraid
It goes into the swamp
Oh, let's refrain And not so long as I'm afraid
Holdin' for his breath Won't go away
No way, no, no I know he's lookin' for his mother
And hurtin' not to go to church One night or another
Say it
Take me, Lord, I wanna be
Smaller than I'd like to be
And not so long as I'm afraid
He won't go upstairs
He won't go to bed
But enough of that grace
He's an ant in grace Sure enough in grace
Right
He's an ant in grace
All over the place
That's growing all around him
You know he's all around you
Yes, an ant will kiss the grass
He's all around you
Singin'
Take me, Lord, I wanna be Smaller than I'd like to be
Yeah, oh yeah
Low boy, low boy
Why don't you come on, low boy
Go all alone
Don't worry
You don't wanna feel alone Go all alone
Don't worry
Sometimes it feels like you're
All alone
Don't worry
Nobody to try as we feel
All alone
Don't worry
Sometimes I feel like I'm
All alone myself
And I know I ain't feel
In this world
Sometimes, sometimes
I have to fall down on my knees Because I feel like I'm all alone
In the world
Ain't got nobody, nobody
On my side
Oh, oh
[No speech for 29s.]
He's all alone
In the world Ain't got nobody To wipe his eyes
I know he's afraid
I know he's so scared
Feelin' so lonely, lonely All alone
In this world
All alone
No, no, no, no, no Don't wanna be all alone now
In the world
Ain't got nobody, nobody
Don't wanna be all alone now
[No speech for 29s.]
In the world Ain't got nobody
To wipe his eyes I know he's afraid
I know he's so scared
Feelin' so lonely, lonely
All alone
In the world Ain't got nobody
To wipe his eyes
I know he's so scared
Feelin' so lonely, lonely
All alone
No, no, no, no, no Don't wanna be all alone now
In the world Ain't got nobody
To wipe his eyes
I know he's so scared
Feelin' so lonely, lonely
All alone
In the world Ain't got nobody
To wipe his eyes
I know he's so scared
Feelin' so lonely, lonely
All alone
Ain't got nobody
To wipe his eyes
I know he's so scared
Feelin' so lonely, lonely
All alone
Ain't got nobody
To wipe his eyes He says he's lonely
He says he loves his daddy
Ain't got nobody
To wipe his eyes He says he's lonely
All alone
There's another thing
Compare to last year's lovely little dish When we all ate at Susan's
She's got lots of charm She's great at the art bar
The neighborhood is excellent
I have reason to be alarmed
Huzzah!
[No speech for 23s.]
The bar, the broths, the cream, the crocks
I have feelings, you know exactly
Dad says that her mind is on vacation She doesn't taste, nothing goes to waste There's critters and hair all over the place
Resulting in a lack of sanitation
Is that it?
No!
Today is the second Sunday of July And that can only mean one thing
The family is expecting me for supper
And I salute my love
She's quite...
ASMR, darling!
She's got lots of charm
She's shaking the art bar
The neighborhood is excellent
I have reason to be alarmed
Huzzah!
Hey, Aunt Sue, where's your little dog, Ginger?
Oh, the little fella at Spicetown?
Huzzah!
Hey, Aunt Sue, where's Uncle Stu?
Oh, he's cooking... something
Huzzah!
She's such a sweetie, but
Still kind of creepy
She's my Aunt Sue
Whoooo
We really mean it
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na
Dang
Is that it? I guess so.
The ant suite!
It began with An Ant Alone, one of the songs from a theatrical production called The Warrior
Ant, words by Leib Royer, music by Bob Telson, who leads the instrumental group Little Village. The lead vocalist was Sam Butler.
Then came The Entrance of the Ants from The Spider's Banquet, Symphonic Fragments, by
Albert Roussel.
That was André Clouton conducting the, uh oh, this is one of those mile-long orchestra names, Orchestre de la Société des Concerts du Conservatoire de la Crème de la Crème de la Plume du Montant du Pain du Page 2 de Facto de Moyne.
Really makes you appreciate that rock group called The Band, doesn't it? Anyway, last was Aunt Sue's Ant Soup, by The Blenders, which of course I really had to put last in the suite, because it has that incredible ending to end all endings.
Well I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it again.
It's hard to think of any area of human endeavor or interest that hasn't been treated musically.
Who would have thought that I would be able, and quite easily at that, to put together our next suite? I'm not even going to tell you what it's about.
It's got three numbers, and, what, what is that? Oh man, the caretaker here at Wigglesworth Gardens has moved the sprinkler, oh brother.
I'd better put my jacket over the CD player and the remote mixer here, and I should go over and see if I can, oh no, here it comes again.
Tell you what, I'm going to start the suite, and while you're listening to it, I'll see about getting the sprinkler moved back. I'm sure that won't take more than eight and a half minutes.
Here, let me reach under my jacket and find the mic volume, okay, okay folks, here's one
of our more unusual suites.
There's a new sound, the newest sound around, the strangest sound that you have ever heard, not like a wild boar or a jungle lion's roar, it isn't like the cry of any bird, but there's a new sound, it's deep down in the ground, and everyone who listens to it squirms, because it's a new sound, so deep down in the ground is the sound that's made by worms. There's a new sound, the newest sound around, the strangest sound that you have ever heard, not like a wild boar or a jungle lion's roar, it isn't like the cry of any bird, but there's a new sound, it's deep down in the ground, and everyone who listens to it squirms, because it's a new sound, so deep down in the ground is the sound that's made by worms.
There's a new sound, the newest sound around, the strangest sound that you have ever heard, not like a wild boar or a jungle lion's roar, it isn't like the cry of any bird, but there's a new sound, it's deep down in the ground, and everyone who listens to it squirms, because it's a new sound, so deep down in the ground is the sound that's made by worms.
[No speech for 25s.]
There's a new sound, the newest sound around, the strangest sound that you have ever heard, not like a wild boar or a jungle lion's roar, it isn't like the cry of any bird, but there's a new sound, it's deep down in the ground, and everyone who listens to it squirms, because
it's a new sound, so deep down in the ground is the sound that's made by worms.
Two and two are four, four and four are eight, eight and eight are sixteen, sixteen and sixteen are great.
Two and two are four, four and four are eight, that's all you have on your business-like
mind, two and two are four, four and four are eight, how can you be so blind?
Inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, you and your arithmetic, you'll probably go far, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful
those marigolds look when they're ripe.
Inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, you and your arithmetic, you'll probably go far, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to
me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm,
inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to
me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to
me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm,
inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful
those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to
me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm,
inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those
marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to
me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to
me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm,
measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds
look when they're ripe, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and
see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful those marigolds look when they're ripe, inchworm,
love. And the second one goes like this. The cricket is a good singer who holds a long note. Go ahead, drink and sing, cricket, but he is not like the other birds who sing a little and then go elsewhere. The cricket always stands firm.
When it is hottest, he sings alone for love. In that number you'll hear not only rhythms imitating the crickets, but also rapid alternation between different parts
imitating the virtuoso antiphonal technique of crickets. Then the third piece is called The Beetle. Nanny, dear nanny, think how awful, let me tell you. On the grass I sat while playing by the arbor near the beaches. Busy building such a pretty house of maple with the pieces mummy dear herself has cut me.
Finished was my little cottage with a roof on, like a proper cottage. Then there came a beetle and sat on my roof, a big black one, thick and fat, oh so fat. His beard started wagging up and down, his wicked eyes fixed upon me. I was terrified. And then he buzzed loudly, spread his wings wide open and flew towards me quickly. And with a bound he hit me on my temple, so I bent down, oh nanny dear, sat still and hardly dared to breathe. One little peep I gave out of my eyes. And fancy, what do you think nanny? On his back there lay the beetle, held both feet together folded, no longer angry and his beard had ceased to waggle.
No buzz left in him, just his wings could move a bit. Was he dead then or only foxing? What was he up to? Oh tell me nanny, what's your opinion? A blow he gave me, perhaps his last one. What was he up to, that beetle? And finally, the fourth and last piece, Dragonflies, is instrumental. Today's show is called Your Standard B-Flat Bugs, and our last suite deals with four of them, ladybug, cricket, beetle, dragonfly, that I've seen right here in the central plaza of the gardens. So we've had a butterfly suite, an ant suite, and a worm suite. Let's call this
one Plaza Suite. I'll see you in eight and a half minutes.
[No speech for 17s.]
I'll see you in eight and a half minutes.
[No speech for 173s.]
He's a good singer, he's a good singer, he's a good singer.
Nanny, Nanny, what happened?
Don't be upset.
I was playing on the porch, I took the mushrooms and the birches, I built a little house, And the sound of our vines,
Of those that my mother, My mother herself, Built a little house, A little house with a roof, A real little house,
Suddenly...
On the very roof, Suddenly sits, A huge, black, Such a monster, With his moustache, So scary,
And he looks at me, At me all the time,
And he got scared, And the sound of his moustache,
With his moustache, And he got scared, And he wants to catch me,
And he flew, And the sound of his moustache,
Crushed me, I hid,
Nanny,
I sat down, And I'm afraid to move,
Only the thunder, As if by a miracle,
Covered me, And what? Listen, Nanny, The beetle is lying, On the porch,
And he won't move,
And he won't bite, Only the wings tremble, What will he do?
He pretended, What is it?
What is it? Tell me, Nanny, The beetle is lying, He hit me, And he fell down, What is it?
What is it?
[No speech for 124s.]
And he won't move,
And he won't bite, Only the wings tremble, What will he do?
He pretended, What is it?
The composers in the Plaza Suite were Schumann, Josquin, Mussorgsky, and Chaminade.
Schumann's Marienbrümschen, which means Lady Bird, is from the songbook for children, Op.
79, and it was sung by Margaret Price, accompanied by Thomas Dewey. Not the same Thomas Dewey, I assume, who famously didn't beat Harry Truman in the 1948 presidential
election.
Next, El Grillo, or The Cricket, was performed by the Hilliard Ensemble on a CD of motets and songs by Josquin Desprez.
Mussorgsky's The Beetle was sung by Aga Haugland with Paul Rosenbaum at the piano.
And Cecile Chaminade's Dragonflies was performed by the pianist Enid Catan. Listen for the insects.
These gardens are a great place to do it.
Just to emphasize the cyclical nature of life, let's go out with the same insect we came in with. In general, that's a good policy, whether it's a lady or a bug.
The Dance of the Butterfly is another section of Roussel's ballet score, The Spider's Banquet. In fact, it's the section immediately following The Entrance of the Ants, which we heard earlier.
The conductor is André Clouton, and the orchestra, I'll give you just the facts this time, is the Orchestre de la Société des Concerts du Conservatoire.
Enjoy, and get out there and listen to the insects while you can. Remember, to a mountain, our lives are no longer than a mayfly's is to us.
[No speech for 54s.]
And that's Schickele Mix for this week.
Our program is made possible with funds provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and by this radio station and its members.
Thank you, members. And not only that, our program is 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. Refer to the program number, and this is program number 154.
And this is Peter Schickele 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.
[No speech for 71s.]
If you'd like a copy of that playlist I mentioned, send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to
Schickele Mix.
That's S-C-H-I-C-K-E-L-E, Schickele Mix.
Care of Public Radio International.
100 North 6th Street, Suite 900A, Minneapolis, Minnesota, 55403.
P-R-I, Public Radio International.