Bullus Edictus: May 2012
My dear friends, His Holiness craves your indulgence a few moments. He asks that you put down your scores, take off your headphones, or stop tangoing so earnestly in the corner. You over there, please put down your G&T.
All yours papa...
Thankyou, my good friend Cardinal Concertino Ripieno.
My dear friends, the musical illuminati. Ahem.There are matters of the gravest import I must address you on, so much so that I have come down from my balcony - well actually we don't have a balcony but no matter, I digress - to speak to you all.
I have become increasingly concerned of late that we, the musically chosen faithful, speak to each other in ways that make Babel look like the Holy City. Not only have we called each other 'bums', 'charlatans' and 'phillistines' in the recent past, we now resort to terms such as 'b*^%$&"s' and 'tosh' to describe each other's discourse. We ridicule and vilify each other, we mock and we scorn, all in the name of music.
I quote to you from Revelation: 'The beast was given a mouth uttering haughty and blasphemous words...'
Is this right, my friends? Consider what the professors in the hallowed haunts of academe would think if they saw us, the musical cognoscenti, stooping to such vile verbiage.
There are those who know not the perils of backpedalling and self-contradiction, and there are those who speak of that terrifying pit of abomination, the Procrustean bed. There are even those who change their identities many times in order to conceal their true natures. But I say to all of you, that the serpent is one, though his guises be many.
'And I saw a beast rising out of the sea, having ten horns and seven heads, and on its horns were ten diadems, and on its heads were blasphemous names'.
(Note that seven heads equals seven names, not ten).
I ask all of you to remember, that there is only one great composer, the greatest of them all...and his name is Mike Batt. This has been decreed. You must pray daily kneeling down on the score of 'underground, overground' wombling free. Did the maestro not know himself that his work was great beyond human claims? Did he need human evaluations of his greatness? Were not the charts adequate proof?
Novelty music is the absolute truth, my friends! You must open your eyes and your ears, that you may become properly educated.
There is no truth beyond the score of my favourite Wombles' songs, and not a single note may be altered. I remind you of these things, my friends, as I shame to acknowledge that we seem to have forgotten them.
'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them' said William Shakespeare. But what did he know? Greatness is attributed by composers themselves, and then by experts and wise old professors, who have spent their lives studying the score.
I ask you to consider and reflect on my words to you, my dear musical pals. Should I have to speak again, there may well be...consequences. But no more of that. I leave you in good faith. It is Friday night, pizza and wine night, and the Burlesque girls come to perform here at the palace. Besides which the auditors are due next week, and there is the small matter of the bank books to see to.