Now THAT was more like it.
Handel, you will likely be unsurprised to discover, won his match, but unlike the Gershwin-Bernstein slaughterhouse [funf!], Haydn put up a real fight. Handel only took it by a couple of votes, although, as my dad always says, it’ll look like a line drive in the box score.
And now, friends and neighbors, you better lift up that keyboard cover and adjust the piano bench, because in this corner, transmitting the preludes through his hair and fingertips, it’s
And in this corner, dramatically throwing his velvet gloves into the audience, it’s
Piano…. FIGHT! Do you choose the man whose lightning focus never wavered from the instrument? Or the man who broadened his horizons now and again? The man who preferred quietly playing for small groups of friends? Or the man who gloried in being, shall we say, the center of attention? Chopin is brilliant, but then I once declared that one of the qualities I looked for in a friend was the ability to headbang to Liszt. Maybe we should just throw Berlioz into the ring and see who has the larger portion of him in the end.