High, Mid, Low Brows

The following letter was published in the Oregonian the other day:

Carmen, not Candy’s Room

Bruce Springsteen’s band member tells us that it is a rush to him to “turn your guitar amp up to 11 and scream and shout and be presenting amazing music.” Amazing to me that anyone older than a demented 6-year-old can call that racket “music.” True, my standards are high, as they are generated by the Metropolitan Opera. But the reaction to the Springsteen noise proves the truth of the old adage that “some people grow up, others just grow old.”


Seems to be an obnoxious high-brow.  I myself would start listening to Opera, but I fear that everyone will just assume that it is a contrived taste, an attempt to Impress.  Anyway, someone actually responded to this letter, as such.  The Friday letters are not in the Oregonian online cache, but the money line was something to the effect of “If Opera is so great and Springsteen so crummy, why must one be subsidized and the other cost $80?”  Another a-hole.

Maybe I would respond, but for the life of me I wouldn’t know whether to attack Carmen and Springsteen or praise them.  Maybe I could try to rise myself above them both and claim disdain as the highest of high-brows, or could mold myself into even more the common clay on the other end of the spectrum — like, I’m more into Larry the Cable Guy  GITERDUN… (ugh).

2 Responses to “High, Mid, Low Brows”

  1. Rich Says:

    I love Robert’s letter.

    Not only is it really nothing more than a “My band is better than your” argument (which is childish in itself – and ironic) the “some people grow up, others just grow old” statement speaks volumes.

    Robert’s no high-brown, he’s just self-important.

    Sorry Robert, I’m sure you’re a good guy, but arguing about music is like fighting about sex.

  2. Lee Says:

    Uncle Bob was far from high brow, he was actually quite blue collar and unassumiing. But he could be opinionated at times. 😉 Most often he was a quiet, soft-spoken guy, yet when he had a strong opinion, he’d come out of his shell.

    I remember weekend nights at his brother’s house, Italian opera piping out of the speakers while the three (or more) of us sipped brandy or wine discussing world politics as if we were all experts. The conversation was only broken when a favorite part of the opera came up, when one of us, usually the brother (my other uncle), would raise up his hand for silence while the part finished it’s course as we all listened. It was usually followed up with a few sentences about it’s brilliance before we dove back into the all-important topics like the politicians, laws, or even Hollywood gossip/projects.

    The other night Uncle Bob’s car crossed over the grass median and took on a semi. The semi won and the world lost a great individual. Thanks for capturing his comments and for your thoughts! I must say that Rich is closer to the truth in his analysis. God bless

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