There is really only so much time that one can spend analyzing the Tristan chord. In my opinion, it doesn't matter whether G#BD#F functions as a dominant V in A minor with two appoggiaturas or as a French sixth in the same key with only one appoggiatura. I mean, really... how much ink has been spilled to argue about four silly notes? If I slam my hand on a keyboard, decide that I like the sound it makes, and turn it into the first chord of an opera prelude, no one gives a shit. But Wagner does it, and music theorists all over the world wet their pants for the next 150 years writing articles and books (and probably blog entries) about it.
Oh Wagner, y u gotta b so *controversial*?
But enough pretending that my current limited musical analysis abilities are simply the result of my distaste for the plethora of literature on the Tristan chord. In truth, I am so over my head with this final that, despite garnering A after A on weekly assignments, I will probably end up with a somewhat diminished grade. Like, maybe a half-diminished grade, should we say.
Ha. ha. Harmony jokes. Ugh.
BUT. Only one more day of this, and then I return home. Home! Glorious home, with my glorious room and glorious bed and glorious bathtub and glorious fridge filled with glorious food and glorious Comcast Digital Cable with HBO and all of the episodes of John Adams just waiting... waiting... for me to gorge myself upon them.
Not that I will have so much time for wastin'. Tyler is getting Bar Mitzvah'd on Saturday, and I have yet to spend more than three consecutive minutes looking at the Torah portion that I will be chanting in front of the hordes of friends and family. Not to mention that I have to meet three clients this week for summer work, and begin training.
But as long as none of the above activities involve identifying the non-tonal major-third/minor-third ladder of the finale of Stravinksy's Firebird, I am totally cool with it.
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