Nothing With Lyrics

Even after a little bit of digging, I’m not much closer to knowing anything about “Cabbage Head,” except that I’ve heard versions by bluegrass legend Doc Watson and New Orleans legend Professor Longhair (and a hilarious and fine live version by a Virginia group called the Whitetop Mountain Band). Nor am I much closer to feeling much better. So cabbage heads and Andrew Greeley and anything else will have to wait for a while. Perhaps Thursday.

It doesn’t help that it was ten years ago this week that my dad passed on. I miss him.

I noted once here, talking about music that brings me comfort, “If I’m really in sad shape, I head for my small classical library. I don’t want anything with lyrics on really bad days.” Among the classical pieces I mentioned was Czech composer Bedřich Smetana’s Vltava, an 1874 symphonic piece composed and titled in tribute to the great Bohemian river. The piece, one of six pieces Smetana gathered into a collection called Má vlast  (“My homeland”), might be more commonly known by its German name, Die Moldau.

So here, with a portrait of the composer and scenes of Prague (a city I’d dearly love to visit someday) is Bedřich Smetana’s 1874 Vltava.

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