Door Number Three
Ives: Good morning!
Bach(at stove cooking eggs): Morning, Charles - you must be feeling better.
Ives: Yes, actually. Hildegard gave me some special sort of tea. Then she held her hands over my head and mumbled something I couldn't understand, but I'm not arguing. There may be something to this new age medicine after all. (sits at table with Brahms and Zacara, who is sipping a Diet Coke.)
Zacara: I missed you at dinner last night. And you, JS. I had to eat with Barbara.
Bach: I'm sure that was difficult.
Zacara: I managed. But it's not the same complaining to her about work as it is with you two.
Bach: I should have liked to be there - I had enough complaining to do myself!
Brahms: Impossible.
Bach: Yes, there's this idiot bassoonist in the ensemble - a one "Johann Heinrich Geyersbach" (sigh) He tries my patience, let's put it that way.
Brahms(amused): Can he even play the bassoon?
Zacara: Say it ain't so, JS - you're our unending spring of patience and humanitarian love. If you turn old and cynical I'll have to kill myself.
Bach: Oh no, I am not so patient when it comes to my musical standards. For example, I expect woodwind instruments to sound like woodwind instruments, not cows. Poor kid doesn't know anything about the bassoon.
Ives: Well perhaps you shouldn't be too hard on the youth.
Bach: He's older than I am! and belligerent about it when I correct him.
Ives: Oh...
Brahms: Don't burn the eggs.
Bach: I won't.
Zacara: Why don't you just fire him?
Bach: It's a complicated process. I don't want to worry about it now. I shouldn't be running orchestras anyway, I should be writing music! Ach, well - a good breakfast should cheer me up. Let's eat.
The second breakfast shift (7:30) sees Tchaikovsky, Strozzi, Hildegard, Beethoven, and Liszt. Liszt and Tchaikovsky have cooking duty this morning, but unfortunately Liszt has difficulty listening to Tchaikovsky's escapades while trying to flip pancakes.
Tchaik(next to Liszt with a pan of omelette): So he waits until all the others have left, then he comes up very shly: "I don't understand the augmented chords." So I was thinking to myself, "Ok, Pyotr, this is NOT an opportunity to offer private lessons, because you know better than to trust yourself -" BUT then he says -- with this sudden KNOWING look - (Tchaik demonstrates to Liszt, finger at the corner of his mouth): "I think I might benefit from after-school tutoring."
Liszt(accidently drops pancake): agh- Pyotr!
Strozzi: hahaha!
Hildegard: Pyotr, how do you FIND them?
Tchaik(at Liszt, with an air of justified offense): What am I supposed to do?! He clearly was making a proposition!
Strozzi: But a student!
Hildegard: That's not right.
Beethoven: (glares)
Tchaik: I don't want to be found out! My personal life shouldn't be a part of school.
Liszt: So what did you tell him??
Tchaik(distraught): I told him I was very busy and he should find a student tutor.. I recommended .. (waves hand) oh, I don't even remember who I recommended - Jones, I think-
Hildegard: That's better.
Tchaik: But... But.. I shouldn't feel so TORN about this!
Beethoven: No! You shouldn't!
Liszt: Someti-- (stops as he has to make a sudden move to catch the next pancake he's haphazardly flipped)
Tchaik: Franz, here. Take the spatula.
Liszt: Thank you.
Strozzi(amused): I'm surprised you're so innocent, Franz.
Liszt: It's not that - it's just the no preparation.
Beethoven: Please, I'm trying to eat breakfast over here! (bites into apple rebelliously)
Tchaik: Ok, ok, clearly I have scandalized you all. I'll just keep my affairs to myself.. (pouts) or rather my non-affairs.
Liszt: It's fine, really. You just have to warn me when these apparently innocent characters in your narrative are going to turn into predatory jailbaits! Or perhaps you just need to refine your radar for these types. I can spot them a mile away.
Hildegard: Perhaps if you didn't proposition every woman you met, that wouldn't be a problem, Franz!
Beethoven: (grumble)
Strozzi: I don't think Ludwig approves of this conversation..
Liszt(turns to Hildegard, appropriately injured expression): Oh, Hildegard, you cut me to the quick - surely you don't think me to be some profligate playboy??
Hildegard: Actually, yes -
Liszt(hand to forehead): You misrepresent me!
Tchaik: Franz has to fend them off. I can understand that. Although I don't think you have the problem of students trying to expose you as some- DEVIANT in the school system!
Beethoven(stands abruptly): I'm going to compose. (walks out)
Strozzi: I think our Romantic doesn't approve of the base way in which we discuss our love affairs.
Liszt: Ah, but you haven't shared anything, dear lady...
Strozzi: Oh, I'm too amused at yours.
Tchaik: Ok, no love affairs while we're eating. Hildegard, your omelette is done. (brings pan over to table)
Hildegard: no yolk, all natural organic mushroom, broccoli, and onion?
Tchaik: Just as you like it. (pours it onto her plate)
Hildegard: Thanks.
Early afternoon: Barbara Strozzi goes to the backporch to practice her singing in the comfort of Nature. As she launches into a few scales to warm up, she perceives a faint rustling from the yard. She does a quick scan: in the far left corner sits Beethoven, hunched over a notebook and deep in thought; there's a foot visible from one of the maple trees, but her attention is suddenly drawn to the bushes along the right side of the lawn. Suddenly Robert Schumann appears from them - he gestures that she should come nearer; she joins him at the row of bushes.
Strozzi: .... Robert, what are you up to?
Schumann: shh! Look! (points in the bushes)
Strozzi(squints): I don't see anything special.
Schumann(whispers): Not the plant - through the plant portal into the netherworld. What see you there?
(Strozzi looks again, this time focusing beyond the bush on the neighbor's yard. It's a pleasant sight: well-manicured and healthy lawn, accented with a large oak tree in the middle and mulched gardens around the perimeter. Then Strozzi's eye is drawn to the garden just off the back porch, where colorful plastic lawn gnomes are gathered. At least five of them - mismatched in color and grotesquely cheerful.)
Strozzi(stands back): Oh..
Schumann: Now you see?!
Strozzi: Those aren't very tasteful.
Schumann(with impassioned Romanticism): "Tasteful"! No, my dear, they've a taste for destruction! They're plotting against us - they move even nearer every night like the creeping shrubberies of Macbeth!
Strozzi: (laughs) I'm not sure they're that threatening, Robert!
Schumann: Oh, no. Don't be fooled. How could anything that bright and innocent possibly be so? It's merely a facade to cover darker intentions. Mark my words (suddenly walks back to the house, leaving Strozzi to ponder the gnomes.)
Strozzi(shakes head): My musician housemates... I suppose I should do my laundry today...
Meanwhile, Mozart and Wagner have reached the piano room at the same time. Each one pretends to ignore the other, even though there is only one entrance to the room and they have to walk in practically arm-in-arm. Mozart reaches the piano first, and begins improvising some jaunty tune. Wagner does not rush his dignified pace, but when he reaches the piano, he lets his composition notebook (his thick composition notebook) fall upon it.
Book: (THUD!)
Wagner: Excuse me, Wolfgang. What do you think you are doing?
Mozart: Oh? Just playing.
Wagner: I'll say. Step aside and let an artist work out his inspiration into a masterpiece.
Mozart: I am already doing so. (grin)
Wagner: I need the piano.
Mozart: What for? You are working on an opera.
Wagner: Don't be ridiculous. You even use the piano when you are working on your operas.
Mozart: Only so I don't have to hear you using it. (wink)
Wagner: WHAT!
Mozart(as if this is pleasant, everyday conversation): Naturally... Who can concentrate with your "Wagnerian" caterwauling all day? I don't mind the baritone, but when you approximate the sopranos.... (shakes his head)
Wagner: (red-faced and about to explode)
Mozart: And I have to say there are better ways to create interest than using bVI chords all the time.
Wagner: ---OF ALL THE OUTRAGEOUS, LIBELLOUS - WHAT AFFRONTERY! (seizes Mozart by the collar and drags him out of the room) I AM ASHAMED TO HAVE EVEN MADE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE LET ALONE RESIDE IN THE SAME HOUSE AS YOU- YOUR OWN MUSICAL TALENTS NOTWITHSTANDING, YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO TASTE FOR THE WORK OF TRUE GENIUS!
Mozart: Hahahahahaha!
Wagner: GEHRAUS!!! (throws him into the foyer, slams door shut)
Mozart: Hahahahaah! (stays on floor laughing)
(Mussorgsky comes to the foyer from the room across the hall. He looks down at Mozart appraisingly.)
Mussorgsky: did he kick you out?
Mozart: haha - he didn't even use his foot! hahahahahaha!
Muss: I dont know what to do with him.
Mozart: ahahahaha - oh... (tries to sit up) aghhh.. hahah can't... ah.. can't sit up yet..
(Suddenly the piano springs to life with the strains of a chunky German march; Mozart starts laughing again, but Mussorgsky frowns)
Mussorgsky: Hes gonna break that poor piano it never did him any harm.
Mozart: Franz'll break it, if anyone.
Mussorgsky: Franz knows HOW to play the piano.. even if hes a little rough Richard has no idea...
Mozart: What genius has need of piano lessons?
Muss: you need help youre still sitting there.
Mozart: (holds out his hand primly) Si vous plait, Monsieur.
Muss: Now i'm not drunk enough yet to talk to you in French but Ill help you up anyway. (pulls him to his feet)
Mozart: Ah, thanks. Now I suppose I'll have to plot my wicked revenge. ho hum (wanders down hallway)
Muss: Matlocks on. (disappears back into living room)
About an hour later, Strozzi has finally gathered and organized her laundry. It's piled in a big basket that blocks her vision when she carries it. She cautiously makes her way downstairs to the row of doors along the hall.
Strozzi: Ah.. I think its one of these.. JS said the second door.. (accidently walks to the third door, puts down basket and tries handle. The door opens to reveal) Oh, the furnace is here- why is the light on?? (she reaches for the string hanging from the ceiling, but then notices there's another smaller door in the back of the room.) What..??
(She opens the door and finds another staircase descending into darkness. But as her eyes adjust to the dark she notices a faint flickering from the basement. Curious now, Strozzi creeps down the stairs. As she nears, she can hear random clicks. Then out of nowhere-- "DAMN"
Strozzi: Hello? (sudden scurrying - as Strozzi reaches the foot of the stairs)
Mozart: Barbara!
Strozzi: Wolfgang!
Mozart: (hands on hips) Now what's all this about? You've infiltrated my secret lair!
Strozzi: Seriously! No one told me there was a basement!
Mozart(melodramatically): That's because no one knows! ... Well, except Modest - I mean, he has a nose for alcohol - he was interrogating me about the keg (gestures to the corner) within the hour I brought it into the house. (cheerfully) But now that my secret's out, let me show you around... (indicating the pool table in the middle of the room) Well, there's the pool table. Also a handy place to set drinks. Ah... There is what appears to be the remnants of a couch against the far wall there.....(leans back against table) So, what do you think?
Strozzi: .... hm.. How can the others not know we have a basement?
Mozart(shrugs): Robert has always suspected it.
Strozzi: He's quite the conspiracy theorist.
Mozart: Yeah, well... (suddenly gestures to stand holding pool cues) Care for a game?
Strozzi: I don't know how to play.
Mozart: Oh! Impossible! Come, I'll teach you.
Strozzi: (long sigh) I don't know, Wolfgang, this seems so illicit. Pool lessons in the secret basement.. What if the others found out?
Mozart(innocent expression, but with twinkle in eye): Oh just what are you suggesting?
Strozzi(looking about appraisingly): We should redecorate.
Mozart: .... I wasn't thinking of moving in just yet..But..
Strozzi: Actually, I must do my laundry.
Mozart: aww, well - you'll sneak back up and not tell anyone?
Strozzi: Seriously, Wolfgang, you ought to share the basement. Perhaps I'll tell Hildegard.. she can blackmail you with it.
Mozart: (falls at her feet melodramatically) Oh no! You wouldn't put me through such a trial, would you!!? Have mercy, dear maid! I can't suffer it - I would do anything to appease you!
Strozzi(solemnly): Be forewarned, then... I may ask favors of you (he looks up brightly)-- or casually drop the information at dinner. (turns abruptly and walks up) But laundry for now. Bye!
Meanwhile, Franz Liszt heads to one of his favorite spots around town: Le Apocalypse, a French bakery run by a Mr. Pierre Schaeffer. It's a chic, black beret affair, and Liszt, with his easy manners and cool persona, is a regular. He slinks into the shop - the owner lounging behind the counter looks up at the creaking sound of the door.
Schaeffer: Ah, Franz! Perhaps I should fix that door...
Liszt: How goes it, Pierre?
Schaeffer: It goes.. but you know, my theories are slowly coming into form.
Liszt(sits at counter next to an ambiguous duo of men in their late 20's): Tell me..
Schaeffer: Sound objects - I have told you of them before, no?
(Meanwhile, a young man in black turtleneck leaves his spot at a corner table and goes to investigate the door. He opens it experimentally. It creaks. He lets it close. Then he rips it open and the squeak turns into a cry.)
YoungMan: Ahhhh HAH!
(One of the pair at the counter turns around, frowning)
JeanBarraque: What are you doing, Pierre?
Schaeffer(toLiszt): Pierre is creating a sound object out of the door - ah, hear that!
PierreHenry: (slowly opening door, a strangely intense expression on his face)
Door: e...e...e...eeee....
Liszt: ...Yes?
Schaeffer: I am trying to categorize them - not by pitch - that can not begin to cover the range of our experience in listening to sound objects-
Barraque: You can't be scientific about that! How do you declare parameters for a sound being "of elastic mass!"?
Schaeffer(look of superior disdain): I told you, this is a work in progress.
Liszt: I'll have a cafe au lait, Pierre-
Schaeffer(at Barraque): You are simply not creative enough in your need to control. You succumb to serialism.
Henry: (makes door scream)
Schaeffer: Yes, that is what I think of serialism.
Barraque: What!
(The fellow sitting next to Barraque, who has been listening quietly all this while, finally leans forward with a perverse smirk)
Foucault: No, Pierre, you misunderstand the situation - Jean's exploration of musical "order" is merely an attempt to exert power over some aspect of his life... But he is not really a control freak - it is more the other way around, I should think..
Barraque(uneasy chuckle): ah, that's not so, Michel-
Liszt: And a madeleine.
Schaeffer: Right. (goes about getting Liszt's food)
Henry: I must practice this door! It is wonderful! (creeeeeeeeeeak --EeeK)
Schaeffer(from beneath countertop): He's such a percussionist...
(Henry opens the door as another young fellow walks in - he smiles at the group)
Henry: Pierre!
Boulez: Pierre!
Schaeffer: hey! Pierre!
Boulez: Pierre!
Liszt: (shakes head) I love this bakery.
Dinner back at the house is a complicated affair. Strozzi wants to make a general announcement about the basement, but the housemates never eat together (It's logistically impossible for them to fit in the kitchen at once). So instead of attempting to bring them together, she just stations herself at the kitchen table and whispers into the ear of each housemate as he comes.
Bach(sits with plate): Mmmm, meatloaf.
Zacara: Damn straight.
Ives: Nothing like a good, hearty meal of meat and potatoes after a long day of work!
Strozzi: So, guys, how was work?
Ives: Fine - the boys were glad to see me back today.
Bach: Geyersbach behaved himself today.
Zacara: Did he play?
Bach: Eh - He hit mostly the right notes.
Strozzi: This is one of your orchestra players?
Bach: A bassoonist - quite incompetent.. But I have to put up with it. (shrugs) Dinner's good.
Strozzi: Thank Hildegard.
Zacara(conversationally): I didn't know she believed in cooking.
Bach: Oh yes, she's always running to the store and picking up supplies. It's a wonderful art, cooking... Besides, half the fun of it is beating Johannes with the pots and pans.
Zacara(swallows Diet Coke wrong): agh-hahahah-
Bach: Haven't you seen him yet? He's sporting a nice bump on his head -- said he complimented Hildegard on her housewifery. I called him a masochist.
Strozzi: I think now would be a good time to ask if you guys had ever considered the possibility of this house having a basement?
Ives: Basement? Why would we consider that?
Bach: Well, we have one, you know.
Strozzi: Ah, so you do know? Wolfgang said no one knew except Modest.
Ives: What BASEMENT! - and whyever should Modest know? I think the only rooms he knows are the living room and the bathroom.
Bach: No, what he knows are the rooms with alcohol, and that includes the basement.
Zacara: So how did it come out that we have a basement?
Strozzi: Apparently it's been here all along, and Wolfgang has simply been keeping it a secret. He's got a pool table and keg down there. I think we should rennovate it. We need the extra space.
Ives: Well - that's a fine idea, I suppose... once I accept that there's a basement.
Bach: Yep.. (to Strozzi) Didn't I tell you it wasn't the third door?
Strozzi: This isn't Bluebeard's Castle, I hope?
Bach: no, no! (laughs)
(Enter Tchaikovsky)
Tchaikovsky: Hildegard said she cooked three meatloafs..(concerned pause)... "Meatloaves"?
Bach: Tastes good either way.
Strozzi: We have a basement, Pyotr.
Tchaik: ..... "basement"?
Zacara: Yeah, its "basements" in the plural.
Tchaik: Oh shut up, I've had a long day. (pulls out chair, falls into it) I can't deal with this teaching.. I just want to compose. Why can't I sit around in the yard and compose all day?
Zacara: Maybe you're like me: You thrive on the feeling of community and good spirit associated with working amongst your peers - you draw inspiration from them and develop your ideas out of the discourse-
Tchaik(looks appalled): I do not!.... although... sometimes I am inspired...
Zacara(grins): Oh yes - "inspired" - I can agree with that, though I think our notions of "inspired" are a bit different.
Strozzi: Pyotr, would you be interested in redecorating the basement?
Tchaik: Possibly.. We'd have to see it. Then plan a strategy, because if it's been lying in ruins all this time, it's probably a complete disaster-
Bach: Well, Wolfy's been hoarding things down there, so it hasn'-
Tchaik: Oh God, worse -
Zacara: Maybe we'll put you and Hildegard in charge of the committee to purify the depths of the basement, how's that?
Strozzi: My thoughts exactly.
Tchaik: Ok, well..in my "Spare Time," I'll just build a children's home down the street too.
Strozzi: Maybe we should just talk to Hildegard.
Ives: No, no, she does enough maintenance around the house -- put some of those workless Bohemians to task.
Tchaik: Good, we'll see if they can organize it.
Strozzi: Sounds like a plan.