Bassoon

Next week, before moving on, however, I will do a conclusionary episode on all these early cantatas, a big overview of what we've just been through in the past few months.

So if you thought of something I missed, or if you really want to hear, say, Alto and Bassoon in MIDI from cantata number whatever, let me know in the substack comments, and I will make that wish come true.

Does the four-part chorale telegram group tickle your fancy? And yes, unfortunate news about the Spotify AI.

Really surprising, really annoying that just some poof, poof, just some episodes gone.

There was Discern the Plague.

And then my magnum opus, Curtis's Bassoon.

So I was in quite a few.

I actually was thinking about Curtis's bassoon this week.

As you should.

As you should think about it at least weekly.

Why did you pick bassoon? Does it sound funny? Bassoon is

inarguably one of the funniest words to ever exist.

Fiery and Mr.

Stiff and Mrs. Dashington and her niece Miss Squeaker and Colonel Blair who played the cornet and Lieutenant Limp who sang tenor and Dr. Bassoon who roared bass and Mrs. Silky who was all things to all men, besides being everything by turns and nothing long, and Lady Tower and Miss Gentle and Mr. Blurt and Miss Dumbell.

Suffice it to say that after a week or two the effervescing began to systematize and the family became a living and complex electrical machine whose sympathetic poles drew and stuck together, while the antagonistic poles kept up a steady discharge of sparks.

Then there arose a gale which quieted the machine a little and checked the sparkling flow of wit and humour.

The arrogance of Major Beak and the good-natured modesty of Mr.

Bright increased.

The noise of Dr. Bassoon made the manner of Mr. Silky quite agreeable by contrast, while the pride of Lady Tower and Mr.

Stiff formed a fine, deep shade to the neutral tint of Miss Gentle and the highlight of Miss Squeaker.