"What would move a man to say you have to play it 840 times to be complete?"

Garry Moore asks John Cale in this 1963 episode of "I've Got a Secret":

 

How cerebral TV game shows were back then!

I'm noticing this today because I was emailed by Jeff Gee, who'd read this post of mine about a 24-hour-long film montage. He said:

I am reminded of Erik Satie's "Vexations," which has the notation "In order to play the theme 840 times in succession, it would be advisable to prepare oneself beforehand, and in the deepest silence, by serious immobilities." Turns out 840 times = 18 hours, which is how long it took a battery of pianists (every description of it I've seen says "battery," except the Wikipedia article) to perform it at The Pocket Theater in 1963. John Cale, who was one of the pianists, appeared on "I've Got a Secret," and so did the single spectator who made it all the way through (tho Wiki says he was "present" which doesn't mean necessarily awake) I think the Satie scribble is a (good) joke, like the Ring Lardner stage direction that so-and-so exits "as if smuggling waffles," and nicely deadpan. Not sure about "the clock."

"The Clock" is the subject of that earlier blog post.

Markley seems sort of grimly earnest, but maybe he's another nutty guy with a great deadpan...

And let me add — as if smuggling waffles — that John Cale is so handsome in his little quiz show appearance. 1963 is one year before he participated in the creation of The Velvet Underground. His role predominates in things like "Lady Godiva's Operation." Audio at the link. Lyrics here. Excerpt: "Doctor arrives with knife and baggage/Sees the growth as just so much cabbage/That must now be cut away/Now come the moment of Great! Great! Decision!/The doctor is making his first incision." Cerebral!

ADDED: I clicked on my "John Cale" tag to see if I'd ever used it before. I had. Twice. Including once where I updated to add that same "I've Got a Secret Clip" (after a commenter linked to it). I don't like to see a repetition. I take some pride in not repeating myself, but there are 62,935 posts on this blog, and it's delusional to believe I know everything in all of them, especially in the updates inspired by comments, which I would characterize as afterthoughts. The post proper was about a current interview with Cale, wherein he was "reclaim[ing] and reconfigur[ing] his dispair," supposedly.

About those Mad Magazine visualizations of clichés,,,

Here's the "Horrifying Cliche's" page from a National Lampoon parody of Mad Magazine:



Click to enlarge and clarify.

We are talking about clichés in another post this morning, and mockturtle said:

The reason I'm unduly fond of cliche metaphors may be linked to my childhood fondness for MAD magazine which featured 'Horrifying Cliches', taken literally. Or maybe because to obviously avoid a cliche is even more banal than using one.

Then Jeff Gee said:

Wow! The whole Nat Lamp MAD parody is online here. Scroll down for the Horrifying Cliches.

Wow, indeed. And I'm another one of those people who — like mockturtle — loved Mad Magazine when I was a kid. I read it mostly in the early 60s. I'd never heard of it, but discovered it on the magazine rack at Tigue's Drug Store when I was about 10 years old. I was amazed that the world had such a thing in it. Really affected my young mind. Tried to get my best friend interested in it too and she informed me the magazine was "for boys," which was another thing about the world that surprised me.

"The day after the Nobel Prize announcement, here's Dylan growling out 'Ballad of a Thin Man' at Desert Trip, Coachella..."

"... as he prowls around the stage in an Armani jacket with no shirt under it. Bangs away at the piano for the last couple of verses. (I'm guessing about the Armani, but I betcha)."



Writes Jeff Gee in the comments to the post about the Harvard classics professor who teaches a course called Bob Dylan.

In the post, I quoted from "Ballad of a Thin Man" — "You’ve been with the professors/And they’ve all liked your looks/With great lawyers you have/Discussed lepers and crooks/You’ve been through all of/F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books...." That's a line that hits close to home for me, being a professor and a lawyer and an F.-Scott-Fitzgerald blogger.

I loved the video: 1. "Ballad of a Thin Man" is one of the very best Dylan songs, 2. It's close up and in clear focus and the microphone in the way is compositionally interesting, and 3. I'm fascinated to watch his face because he's doing what he's done so many times before but he has this sudden amazing new honor, the Nobel Prize. Is he feeling gratified? Inflated? Surreal? Or is he not changed at all?

Gonna change my way of thinking
Make myself a different set of rules
Gonna put my good foot forward
And stop being influenced by fools...
Well, don’t know which one is worse
Doing your own thing or just being cool
You remember only about the brass ring
You forget all about the golden rule

"... poetry begins to atrophy when it gets too far from music..."

Wrote Ezra Pound in "ABC of Reading":

I was talking about Ezra Pound and "ABC of Reading" in connection with Bob Dylan's winning the Nobel Prize in Literature. Some people had been saying songs are not "literature," and I was looking at the etymology of the word "literature" and ran into another quote from Ezra Pound. (It was: "Great literature is simply language charged with meaning to the utmost possible degree.")

In the comments, Jeff Gee got me pointed to the quote clipped out above.

What's that Latin? It's Horace, saying:

Now drink
Now with loose feet
Beat the earth 

Pulsanda! I love that word. I need another rat just so I can call her Pulsanda.

Here:



Pulsanda.