or, another musical weekend
Saturday, up the hill to the Redwood Symphony's precarious little college auditorium for a rousing runthrough of The Planets and a not-so-exciting Mozart piano concerto.
Sunday, I put on my dutiful husband hat to accompany B. to a potluck lunch at her church. The food was good, and the company agreeable, but I could have done without the karaoke machine and the guy continually operating it. The repertoire consisted of what sounded like 50s and 70s pop songs, none of which I'd ever heard before,* with the sole exception of the dreadful "Y.M.C.A.", a "song" which has been examined by scientists under high-powered microscopes without giving up any trace of a tune. Fortunately nobody tried to drag me up to sing anything, because I would have had to stand there in mute incomprehension.
*This included an almost-catchy number particularly beloved of the karaokists, something called "Achy Breaky Heart." I was aware of the existence of a song by this title, but I'd never heard it before. B. tells me that it was recorded by Miley Cyrus's father. I had no idea she even had a father. If so, where has he been?