Bloopers in Music

[dulcinea]

East Germany once published a stamp in honor of Schumann that had to be withdrawn and corrected almost immediately because it originally featured a score by Schu... bert. The MISERERE of Allegri was once announced in WUSF-FM as "the ALLEGRI of Miserere". What other musical bloopers do you folks recall?

[Lance]

I was once listening to the radio and heard the announcer say that Frederic Chopin played a great deal in SALOONS. I was rolling on the floor. Poor guy didn't know the difference between saloons and salons.

There must be a book out somewhere about bloopers, no?

I love 'em. Good topic. Hope it keeps rolling.

[Ralph]

A colleague years ago received a call from a New York Philharmonic telemarketer seeking his purchase of a subscription in which she told him that Beethoven's "EROTICA" symphony would be a season highlight.

[Lance]

Here's one that will freak you out. A soprano one day was singing "Summertime" from George Gershwin's great opera, Porgy & Bess. Within the text of the song is a phrase: "spread your wings."

The soprano broke up the audience immediately by singing "spread your legs." God only knows what she was thinking about but we can probably guess. Can you imagine the embarrassment for the singer?

[Huckleberry]

Tut, tut ...

Now who was the tenor who didn't manage to hop into the gondola at the gondola stop and, as it glided across the stage, said "Ah well, we'll have to wait for the next one." Neil Shikoff in Hoffman? Or an older
tenor?

[Lance]

Tut, tut ...

Now who was the tenor who didn't manage to hop into the gondola at the gondola stop and, as it glided across the stage, said "Ah well, we'll have to wait for the next one." Neil Shikoff in Hoffman? Or an older
tenor?

I believe it was a Wagnerian opera, but I think you're alluding to the story of the Moravian tenor, Leo Slezak who was waiting for a white swan to pass by. He apparently missed it and said loudly: "What time's the next swan?" Apparently it created a lot of laughter in the theater.

[Ralph]

Here's one that will freak you out. A soprano one day was singing "Summertime" from George Gershwin's great opera, Porgy & Bess. Within the text of the song is a phrase: "spread your wings."

The soprano broke up the audience immediately by singing "spread your legs." God only knows what she was thinking about but we can probably guess. Can you imagine the embarrassment for the singer?

*****

Probably she was thinking about cramped seating in coach on airlines.

[Lance]

I'm not positive about the singer, but I think it was Dame Joan Sutherland who was on stage singing a major aria when one of her front caps fell to the floor while her mouth was wide open. With a large gap in her mouth, it affected the pronunciation of the the words. I believe she bent down to retrieve the tooth. If it wasn't Dame Joan, I apologize.

[Huckleberry]

My sister and I were traveling with a major orchestra once (ask not why or how) and the hornist got somewhat pickled and lost his horn. I remember some tittering and numerous sotto voce renditions of Flanders and Swan's version of the theme from Mozart's Horn Concerto all day long.

[Lance]

Here's one that will freak you out. A soprano one day was singing "Summertime" from George Gershwin's great opera, Porgy & Bess. Within the text of the song is a phrase: "spread your wings."

The soprano broke up the audience immediately by singing "spread your legs." God only knows what she was thinking about but we can probably guess. Can you imagine the embarrassment for the singer?

*****

Probably she was thinking about cramped seating in coach on airlines.

Ralph, you're incredible. That thought never occurred to me.

[daycart]

On my local cable service there are a few nice music channels.

Everytime something played by Artur Rubinstein is on, they put up a graphic:

Rubinstein was considered a great composer in the 19th century.

Haha, they mix up their A. Rubinsteins.

[Huckleberry]

Tut, tut ...

Now who was the tenor who didn't manage to hop into the gondola at the gondola stop and, as it glided across the stage, said "Ah well, we'll have to wait for the next one." Neil Shikoff in Hoffman? Or an older
tenor?

I believe it was a Wagnerian opera, but I think you're alluding to the story of the Moravian tenor, Leo Slezak who was waiting for a white swan to pass by. He apparently missed it and said loudly: "What time's the next swan?" Apparently it created a lot of laughter in the theater.

That's it, Lance!!

Coming to think about it, I believe that around 20 years ago I actually did indeed witness Shikoff missing his gondola.

[Lance]

I once attended a recital by the then young pianist Paul Badura-Skoda. In the middle of a rather fast passage, the pianist sneezed loudly and almost banged his head on the fallboard of the piano from the force of the sneeze. He never missed a beat in the music, however. Talk about total control!

[Lance]

I once attended a concert in an unnamed city. The work was the first performance in this city of Giacomo Puccini's Messa di Gloria, which had been fairly recently discovered. The tenor was new to the profession of singing, but knowing his voice as I did, it was a golden voice with a golden throat. The man had such a case of nerves that when it came time to sing the important tenor aria, two or three golden notes emerged, at which point the singer stopped cold. Seated very close to the conductor, whom I also knew, I saw only the back of his neck turn bright red. His wife happened to be the concertmistress and the glances back and forth between the two were interesting. While still playing her fiddle, all she did was nod her head up and down to the conductor as to say ... "continue!" Needless-to-say, the tenor was most red-faced and would not even come out to take his applause.

To make matters worse: this tenor also owned a restaurant that I frequented. I was telling a friend who is a music critic and reviewer about the incident while were enjoying some marvelous food. All of the sudden, my friend started to tell this tenor that he heard about the incident at which point the tenor/restaurant owner looked daggers at me. Then I had the red face. I could have killed this guy, who should have known better than to even mention it. People's heads are sometimes where they should NOT be.

[Huckleberry]

Here's one that will freak you out. A soprano one day was singing "Summertime" from George Gershwin's great opera, Porgy & Bess. Within the text of the song is a phrase: "spread your wings."

The soprano broke up the audience immediately by singing "spread your legs." God only knows what she was thinking about but we can probably guess. Can you imagine the embarrassment for the singer?

*****

Probably she was thinking about cramped seating in coach on airlines.

That's one of two reasons why I prefer not to travel business class. (The ladies would make me blush. )

[Lance]

Here's one that will freak you out. A soprano one day was singing "Summertime" from George Gershwin's great opera, Porgy & Bess. Within the text of the song is a phrase: "spread your wings."

The soprano broke up the audience immediately by singing "spread your legs." God only knows what she was thinking about but we can probably guess. Can you imagine the embarrassment for the singer?

*****

Probably she was thinking about cramped seating in coach on airlines.

That's one of two reasons why I prefer not to travel business class. (The ladies would make me blush. )

And what's the OTHER reason?

[Huckleberry]

Believe this or not, I just don't know what to do with my arms and legs. I feel much better scrunched up in a fetal position. Now I'm sure that psychologists would have much to say about that.

[Donald Isler]

My teacher, the pianist Bruce Hungerford, could tell very amusing stories about his experiences. Two of them:

1) The people running one series where he was performing got his biography and that of his teacher, Carl Friedberg, mixed up, and so he read in the program that he himself had been a student of Brahms.

2) He was interviewed once when he lived in Germany shortly before giving a recital, and shortly after injuring one of his thumbs. But, due to a typo (just one letter makes such a difference!) the headline of the article wasn't "Was Tut Ein Pianist Mit Kranke Daumen?" (What Does a Pianist Do With A Sick Thumb?) but rather "Was Tut Ein Pianist Mit Kranke Damen?" (What Does a Pianist Do With Sick Women?)

[Lance]

My teacher, the pianist Bruce Hungerford, could tell very amusing stories about his experiences. Two of them:

1) The people running one series where he was performing got his biography and that of his teacher, Carl Friedberg, mixed up, and so he read in the program that he himself had been a student of Brahms.

2) He was interviewed once when he lived in Germany shortly before giving a recital, and shortly after injuring one of his thumbs. But, due to a typo (just one letter makes such a difference!) the headline of the article wasn't "Was Tut Ein Pianist Mit Kranke Daumen?" (What Does a Pianist Do With A Sick Thumb?) but rather "Was Tut Ein Pianist Mit Kranke Damen?" (What Does a Pianist Do With Sick Women?)

These are precious, precious! If we get enough of them, I might be able to publish a book!

[aurora]

Violinist Scott St John has a sound clip of his memory mishap with the Tchaikovsky violin concerto:

http://www.scottstjohn.com/funstuff.htm

[jbuck919]

Violinist Scott St John has a sound clip of his memory mishap with the Tchaikovsky violin concerto:

http://www.scottstjohn.com/funstuff.htm

I have never gone to many concerts (shame on me), but I happened to hear the pianist Lili Kraus twice, once in Newburgh, NY and then again at the Mostly Mozart festival in NYC. Both times she had memory lapses in the third movement of a Mozart concerto (not the same concerto). Both times she made a scene trying to blame some miscellaneous distraction. In New York, all I could think was "why is she on the stage in the first place--there are dozens of teenagers around here who could play circles around her).

In college, I heard a very young Peter Serkin in a performance of one of the Bach keyboard concertos. He was extremely obviously stoned. Those were the days.

The best-known director of the West Point Band, whom I shall not name except that he quite exceptionally rose to the rank of a full colonel, was urged into retirement after a visit of the President of the United States--he forgot to play the National Anthem.

But I can forgive everybody at that level all their pecadillos. In my thankfully over career as a church organist, I made so many stupid mistakes that I should have been taken out during some service and shot in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. It's a good thing that for most of the time it was only the Methodists.

[Donald Isler]

Funny that you mention Lili Kraus, John. She was never one of my favorites. She did, however, have quite a high level of self-esteem. I once heard her say on the radio that one of her children had played a recording for her and asked her to guess who the performer was. She replied "Schnabel!" to which her offspring said "No, Mother, that was you!" I don't think I would have made that mistake!

If misstatements can be used as bloopers here, another of my teachers, the pianist Robert Goldsand, used very little pedal. Once he had an injury to his right foot. Another of his students asked him if he was feeling better and, meaning to be encouraging, said "At least you don't use it a lot!"

[pizza]

Alexander Brailowsky once sat down at the piano to begin a recital and forgot what he was to play. He walked to the edge of the stage, asked a startled patron for her program and after reading it, bowed gracefully in thanks and resumed his seat to the amusement of the audience.

[Lance]

My late father related this one to me ... he was there to see it. The legendary violinist, Jascha Heifetz, was to perform the Mendelssohn E Minor Violin Concerto. When it was time for him to come in, he put the fiddle up to his neck ... and nothing. The orchestra started again, and the same thing happened. He walked to the conductor's podium, they talked a moment, and Heifetz came back to the front of the stage, saying to the audience simply, "I forgot!" Naturally, he got the biggest applause for this performance he ever got.

[Huckleberry]

Pray tell me, has anyone else heard an otherwise perfectly behaved guide dog beginning to moan softly when the tessitura of the flute and piccolo parts has become a bit too high for comfort?

[Wallingford]

Well, for many decades in areas of Colorado & Wyoming, KPOF-AM was the only radio station you could turn to for classical music (even if for only a few hours everyday but Sunday).

It was always a low-powered station run on a shoestring budget--i.e., listener-supported. Once, during a painful turnover in DJ's, an announcer introduced Chopin's Les Sylphides in the following stilted manner: "And...now.......we're going....to hear......music.....of......Les Sil-fides!"

ALSO: One could just about write an encyclopedia of info errors wrought by Dick Cavett--or rather, his writers, who concoct sometimes-amusing, ofttimes lame witticisms in his Detroit Symphony broadcasts. Once he used composer Arnold Schoenberg's name for critic Harold Schonberg.

[Donald Isler]

Abram Chasins (pianist, composer, author and one of the people who made WQXR in New York one of the first important classical music stations) told of giving a piano recital somewhere down south in the 20's or 30's. He was playing something new to his repertoire, I think a Prokofiev sonata. The town music teacher, to his horror, sat down in the front row and opened the score, to follow along. This made him so nervous that he had a horrendous memory lapse, at which point he started improvising, and she started turning pages forward and backwards, which didn't help! He finally found his place and continued.

After the recital she came backstage to see him. She complimented him on the recital but asked whether he was using a different edition of the Prokofiev from hers!

[MaestroDJS]

I have never gone to many concerts (shame on me), but I happened to hear the pianist Lili Kraus twice, once in Newburgh, NY and then again at the Mostly Mozart festival in NYC. Both times she had memory lapses in the third movement of a Mozart concerto (not the same concerto). Both times she made a scene trying to blame some miscellaneous distraction.

It's bad enough to have a memory lapse during a concerto, but what if it's your own music?

Serge Koussevitzky conducted the première of Igor Stravinsky's Piano Concerto in Paris in 1924, with the composer as soloist. Stravinsky had a memory lapse just before the second movement: "I suddenly realized that I had entirely forgotten how it started. I whispered this to Koussevitzky. He glanced at the score and whispered the first notes. That was enough to restore my balance."

Dave

David Stybr
Personal Assistant and Der Webmeister to author Denise Swanson
http://www.DeniseSwanson.com
~ Scumble River Mysteries ~
Book 7: Murder of a Smart Cookie, July 2005
Penguin Putnam ~ Signet, New York, New York

David Stybr, Engineer and Composer: It's Left Brain vs. Right Brain: best 2 falls out of 3
http://members.SibeliusMusic.com/Stybr

Coordinator, Classical Music SIG (Special Interest Group) of American Mensa

[Lance]

Funny how reading the responses make you think of other things.

I had an occasion to prepare a double-manual harpsichord for a concert of the three viol sonatas in G, D, and g of JS Bach. A cellist was performing on a Baroque cello - the kind of instrument Bach would have known.

Because the recording technician was indisposed, I was asked to record the concert from the recording booth at the back of the auditorium. My young daughter, aged 7 or 8, was with me. She was exposed to much classical music since birth (as you might have expected!). While I couldn't believe what I was hearing, after the first movement of the first sonata got under way, it wasn't long before my daughter said to me: "Dad, is something wrong?" I could've patted her on the head ... she truly was listening. As I was watched the concert unfold during the first segment, I could see people's heads turning and people whispering to each other. After the intermission, about half the audience had gone for the evening. The next day, the newspaper carried a review that was headed something like this: "Baroquen Cello Broken." (I don't remember the exact words, but it was something like this and certainly wasn't complimentary to the cellist. I felt sorry for the cellist who, I believe, truly thought he was playing these works in the manner they should be played. I couldn't help but think that someone like Anner Bylsma would have had a heart attack! I have never heards sounds like this emanate from a cello, bar-oken or not.

I knew the harpsichordist personally - and a wonderful artist he was (Helmut Walcha was his teacher). I asked him why on earth he would play such a concert; it was too late to cancel after they began rehearsing. And so it goes.

[pizza]

Speaking of remembering the past, I suppose this self-inflicted moment of embarrassment qualifies as a musical blooper of sorts. As a youngster I took piano lessons from a well-known Chicago teacher, Howard Wells, who also taught Theodore Lettvin, who became a fairly well-known professional pianist. Teddy was advanced way beyond all the rest of us peons, but I did have the satisfaction of winning one of the yearly contests Wells and other local teachers sponsored, together with another student -- my only claim to pianistic fame as a 12 year old. The prize each year was a recital at Chicago's Kimball Hall.

On that auspicious day I was scheduled to give the first of the two recitals. The lights dimmed, the audience fell silent, and I made my way to the stage. Or did I? Try as I might, I couldn't find the break in the curtain that allowed entrance to the stage! I groped around for a couple of minutes or so, and the audience must have seen the curtain moving in and out, back and forth, up and down, and began to laugh. Finally, in desperation and frustration, I gave up and went down into the audience by way of the side steps, climbed over the footlights and seated myself at the piano to the sound of great laughter and applause! After the incident, my teacher remarked that I should have studied with Victor Borge! That marked the beginning of the end of my career at the piano!

[MaestroDJS]

The next day, the newspaper carried a review that was headed something like this: "Baroquen Cello Broken."

In a similar vein, here's one of my favorite anecdotes:

George Enescu (1881-1955) was not only a great Românian composer but also a gifted violinist (and a capable pianist) who, apparently, was constitutionally unable to turn down a friend's request for a favor. One such friend begged him to take on his son as a pupil in violin studies. Enescu tried to demur, noting that he took on only very advanced pupils and he did not believe the friend's son would be ready for the sort of instruction Enescu would give. The friend insisted, however, pointing out how much it would mean to him and his son, and Enescu caved in.

After about 3 years during which the friend's son had done nothing to belie Enescu's low expectations, the friend approached Enescu again and reminded him that Enescu's students usually gave a recital after 3 years of study. Enescu reminded the friend that he had accepted the son as a pupil 3 years before even though he had not felt that the son was as ready for him as the other pupils were, and that, by the same token, he did not really feel that the son was ready to give a recital at this time. Again, the friend pleaded with Enescu, noting how much it would mean to him and his son, and again Enescu relented.

The recital was announced and advertised, and shortly thereafter the friend again came to Enescu and complained that nobody was buying any tickets. Enescu suggested the obvious explanation but the friend had an idea. If Enescu would agree to accompany the friend's son on the piano, everybody would buy tickets. Enescu protested that, while he could play the piano, he wasn't a pianist but a violinist, and wouldn't be able to accompany the friend's son. The friend, however, was sure the public wouldn't mind and would snap up the concert tickets if Enescu would accompany at the recital. Besides, it really would mean a lot to the friend and his son. So Enescu agreed.

At the concert in Paris, which was indeed a sellout, Enescu discovered, shortly before they were to start, that they had forgotten to engage a page turner. Looking around in desperation, Enescu saw Alfred Cortot sitting in front of the audience. He told Cortot about his problem and asked him if he might not perhaps find one of his pupils in the audience who could volunteer to turn pages for Enescu. Cortot couldn't find anybody but, as a favor to Enescu, agreed to turn the pages himself.

The next day the newspaper review of the recital read: "A strange recital took place this afternoon at the Salle XYZ. The man who should have been playing the violin was playing the piano. The man who should have been playing the piano was turning the pages. And the man who was playing the violin might barely have been qualified to turn the pages for the man who should have been playing the piano!"

Dave

David Stybr
Personal Assistant and Der Webmeister to author Denise Swanson
http://www.DeniseSwanson.com
~ Scumble River Mysteries ~
Book 7: Murder of a Smart Cookie, July 2005
Penguin Putnam ~ Signet, New York, New York

David Stybr, Engineer and Composer: It's Left Brain vs. Right Brain: best 2 falls out of 3
http://members.SibeliusMusic.com/Stybr

Coordinator, Classical Music SIG (Special Interest Group) of American Mensa

[Donald Isler]

And, now that you mention page turners:

Artur Balsam told of a concert, I believe in Cuba many years ago, when he accompanied a violinist. The page turner did a satisfactory job. But, after they concluded the printed program the violinist and Mr. Balsam, while still on stage, decided to do an encore, so Mr. Balsam signalled to the page turner, who was now backstage, to come back. But, thinking he was being invited to share the applause with them, the page turner modestly shook his head, and refused to join them.

[dulcinea]

On my local cable service there are a few nice music channels.

Everytime something played by Artur Rubinstein is on, they put up a graphic:

Rubinstein was considered a great composer in the 19th century.

Haha, they mix up their A. Rubinsteins.

The CLASSICAL MASTERPIECES channel of MUSIC CHOICE makes that mistake all the time. One of their graphics says that the works of Rubinstein were performed by Liszt. If that Rubinstein is Arthur, that is indeed an amazing feat, as Liszt died on 31 July 1886, and Arthur Rubinstein was not born until 28 January 1887.

[springrite]

Here's one that will freak you out. A soprano one day was singing "Summertime" from George Gershwin's great opera, Porgy & Bess. Within the text of the song is a phrase: "spread your wings."

The soprano broke up the audience immediately by singing "spread your legs." God only knows what she was thinking about but we can probably guess. Can you imagine the embarrassment for the singer?

At least no one announced the opera as "PORKY and Bess", as I heard it once.

[Lance]

And, now that you mention page turners:

Artur Balsam told of a concert, I believe in Cuba many years ago, when he accompanied a violinist. The page turner did a satisfactory job. But, after they concluded the printed program the violinist and Mr. Balsam, while still on stage, decided to do an encore, so Mr. Balsam signalled to the page turner, who was now backstage, to come back. But, thinking he was being invited to share the applause with them, the page turner modestly shook his head, and refused to join them.

I had to laugh. This reminded me of a non-musical event that happened to me personally and maybe it's time to share it.

Some years ago, my wife invited another couple to a dinner at a nice place about 50 miles away. It was called "Hathaway House" named after General Hathaway, in Solon, NY, not far from Cortland. Well, it was a birthday dinner in honour of me but nobody was talking birthdays. After the dinner, a huge cake—candles and all—was headed my way, carried by the servers, as as they approached my table, I said: "Why ... for me??? This is wonderful!" (Naturally, I was trying to act surprised.) The servers kept walking on by to deliver the cake to another party a table or two away. My friends were rolling on the floor with laughter. Talk about personal embarrassment! And yes, my turn came later, but it wasn't as big a cake!

[davidreece]

Some of you may remember me telling this story.

You know how there are a lot of words that you read, but never have occasion to actually pronouce? Until I was in college, I thought the "g" in Enigma was silent, like in gnat. (I don't know why.) You can imagine the strange look I got when I told my conductor how much I loved Elgar's Enema Varations...

[Lance]

Some of you may remember me telling this story.

You know how there are a lot of words that you read, but never have occasion to actually pronouce? Until I was in college, I thought the "g" in Enigma was silent, like in gnat. (I don't know why.) You can imagine the strange look I got when I told my conductor how much I loved Elgar's Enema Varations...

David ... this is great. Next time I play the Enigma Variations on the air, I'll try pronouncing it Enema Variations and we'll see what happens!

[springrite]

Next time I play the Enigma Variations on the air, I'll try pronouncing it Enema Variations and we'll see what happens!

As long as you do not announce that so and so will be "performing enema variations" at a certain venue.

[Donald Isler]

Back when I was a student at the Manhattan School of Music I had a friend who was a rather good pianist. (I think he's a computer programmer now.) He had, oh, such a graceful and elegant way of arriving at the F sharp which is the first note of the second theme of the first movement of Chopin's B Minor Sonata. At his graduation recital, at that point in the movement, he lifted his right hand high into the air to prepare his approach, then came down uncharacteristically awkwardly, his hand missing the note, and then sliding off the keyboard. Not exactly what he had planned.

Oh, and does anyone have that great Bolet 1974 Carnegie Hall recital which was available on LP's, and later rereleased on the Great Pianists of the Century series? Right! It was the same evening, and I could have been there instead!

[matti]

Some years ago, my wife invited another couple to a dinner at a nice place about 50 miles away. It was called "Hathaway House" named after General Hathaway, in Solon, NY, not far from Cortland. Well, it was a birthday dinner in honour of me but nobody was talking birthdays. After the dinner, a huge cake—candles and all—was headed my way, carried by the servers, as as they approached my table, I said: "Why ... for me??? This is wonderful!" (Naturally, I was trying to act surprised.) The servers kept walking on by to deliver the cake to another party a table or two away. My friends were rolling on the floor with laughter. Talk about personal embarrassment! And yes, my turn came later, but it wasn't as big a cake!

That was hilarious, Lance, I'm still laughing while writing this. Thanks for sharing! And that it occured to you after a post about page turners. ROFL.

[matti]

Just to keep you posted, I'm still laughing. That sort of a funny real-life-gag with someone left flabbergasted and utterly embarrassed just tickles my fancy SO much. Thanks again Lance, (really no matter who the victim was of course, but it's just the movie I get in my mind)!

[Johnny]

In the small town of Hanover Pa, there was a organ recital held
at a small church with a VERY Large Austin organ. The guest
Organist played at a large church with a small organ. ( did I say that ? )

Sooo... in the middle of playing the Widor Tocata he stopped, stood
up and excused himself and turned around to start over. It was at
this time that the attack came in the form of passing gas.
This did not go unoticed by the attendees who were failing at all
attempts of being ambivalent. After he completed the tocata, he
ended the program with a rousing rendition of the Stars and Stripes
forever. Needless to say, there was not a dry eye in the place and
it was not because we were crying.

Being the good sport, he then stood up after the recital and said
that there would have to be an adjustment in the wind pressure.

[Lance]

In the small town of Hanover Pa, there was a organ recital held
at a small church with a VERY Large Austin organ. The guest
Organist played at a large church with a small organ. ( did I say that ? )

Sooo... in the middle of playing the Widor Tocata he stopped, stood
up and excused himself and turned around to start over. It was at
this time that the attack came in the form of passing gas.
This did not go unoticed by the attendees who were failing at all
attempts of being ambivalent. After he completed the tocata, he
ended the program with a rousing rendition of the Stars and Stripes
forever. Needless to say, there was not a dry eye in the place and
it was not because we were crying.

Being the good sport, he then stood up after the recital and said
that there would have to be an adjustment in the wind pressure.

As the saying goes, "it went over like a fart in church."

Funny, Americans laugh when they hear an accidental fart but then cringe when a loud, obnoxious burp is presented unexpectedly. I have several stories about this kind of thing, but not for here!

[Donald Isler]

Joe,

I understand you may have some stories to tell. Maybe you'll share some about the audition tape for classical announcers on a radio station that no longer does classical. I recall one person had trouble pronouncing names as "exotic" as Margaret Truman correctly!

[Harold Tucker]

This is an anecdote rather than a blooper. Michael Gielen was conducting Strauss's Death and Transfiguration with the Cincinnati Symphony back in the early 1980's. During the quiet passage between the death throes and before the transfiguration, some joker's watch beeped. From the podium Maestro Gielen could be heard to say quite clearly, " ah, just the correct time".

[RGM]

An announcer on our local classical station, who always seemed reasonably knowledgeable to me, once announced the Rosenkavalier Waltzes by Johann Strauss. I waited in vain for the correction I was sure would follow the recording.

[jbuck919]

An announcer on our local classical station, who always seemed reasonably knowledgeable to me, once announced the Rosenkavalier Waltzes by Johann Strauss. I waited in vain for the correction I was sure would follow the recording.

You mean they're not by Johann Strauss?

[MaestroDJS]

What a difference a comma can make. I've seen I, Pagiacci and Die, Meistersinger listed in the Chicago Tribune at one time or other.

I've heard radio announcers mispronounce names many times. WFMT in Chicago strives to be correct, but sometimes they're a little too careful. Their announcers read all the commercials live, and a few weeks ago during a blue jeans commercial one of them referred to a "Levi Schtrauss".

Many years ago on a game show, the contestant was asked the name of a famous Italian opera composer. Up on the board was the letter "V" and 4 blanks. In a loud confident voice she said "Wagner!" Buzzzz!

Dave

David Stybr, Engineer and Composer: It's Left Brain vs. Right Brain: best 2 falls out of 3
http://members.SibeliusMusic.com/Stybr
Fanfare for a Meeting of the Minds (1:00)
http://www.DeniseSwanson.com/Stybr/Stybr-FM.htm

Personal Assistant and Der Webmeister to author Denise Swanson
http://www.DeniseSwanson.com
Murder of a Smart Cookie
Penguin Putnam ~ Signet, New York, NY

[Haydnseek]

Die, Meistersinger

Must have been the Mickey Spillane production.

[pizza]

Back when I was a student at the Manhattan School of Music I had a friend who was a rather good pianist. (I think he's a computer programmer now.) He had, oh, such a graceful and elegant way of arriving at the F sharp which is the first note of the second theme of the first movement of Chopin's B Minor Sonata. At his graduation recital, at that point in the movement, he lifted his right hand high into the air to prepare his approach, then came down uncharacteristically awkwardly, his hand missing the note, and then sliding off the keyboard. Not exactly what he had planned.

Oh, and does anyone have that great Bolet 1974 Carnegie Hall recital which was available on LP's, and later rereleased on the Great Pianists of the Century series? Right! It was the same evening, and I could have been there instead!

Yes. What a great recital! Bolet played the 24 Chopin Preludes, Op. 28; probably the best performance of them I've ever heard! No bloopers there!