At the end of the 18th century, the French Revolution and its profound impact across Europe led to a dramatic shift in people's demands for recreational dance styles. The once-popular minuet and gavotte were phased out due to their rigid and formal styles, making way for the relaxed and natural waltz.
Of course, the waltz faced strong opposition. Groups with different goals and interests criticized this new trend. The church deed the waltz immoral and uncivilized due to the close embrace between n and won and its rapid spinning movents, denouncing it as heresy. Dance instructors who relied on teaching court dances like the minuet saw the waltz as a threat.
However, the course of history couldn't be reversed. The waltz's simplicity and accessibility, requiring no formal instruction and often learned just by observing, allowed it to spread rapidly among the common people.
Consequently, for a long ti, the waltz was condemned as a vulgar, evil, and ugly dance, much like the initial reception of rock and roll and rap music.
That's why Scarlett made that remark - she also understood this history, which allowed her to connect with Anson in the conversation.
Anson imdiately understood, drawing out his words aningfully, "Hmm... too. Who could refuse the waltz?"
A smile crept onto his lips.
Then -
"Found it!"
Anson's work didn't slow down. He held up a yellowed parchnt scroll, his eyes shining as he looked at Scarlett.
"How about it, want to give it a try? Although it's not as joyful and moving as the waltz, old Mr. Tchaikovsky has his own charm."
Scarlett giggled.
Anson stood up with the scroll and sat down at the piano in the room.
It wasn't the luxurious and shiny piano one might imagine, but rather one marked by history. Even with careful maintenance, the traces of ti were still visible.
Anson examined it closely, a look of surprise on his face. "It's a player piano!"
In the 1980s, with the rapid developnt and maturity of electronic technology, it beca possible to use integrated circuits and CPUs to control a piano to play automatically.
Of course, true professionals disdained such technologically unsophisticated things, but for amateurs, it was quite novel.
This also explained the sheet music in Jeff's room - the producer probably couldn't play the piano, but a player piano was a different story.
Anson turned his head and saw Scarlett crouching down beside the pile of clutter, flipping through the books he had just searched through. Hearing his voice, Scarlett looked up. Anson raised an eyebrow. "I've never tried a player piano before. Anyone can play it."
Scarlett: "Even without any foundation?"
Anson spread his hands. "Even without any foundation."
Anson had heard about player pianos before, but this was the first ti he'd seen one in person. Curiosity piqued, he spent a mont examining it, quickly figuring out how it worked.
"Aha!" he exclaid. The next mont, the piano's keys began to move, producing a lody with a distinct chanical quality.
*Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.*
A trained ear would imdiately detect the coldness and rigidity in the performance, but Anson was simply fascinated by the novelty of it all.
"Here, this is it, this must be the frenzied part!" he said, his voice filled with excitent.
Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique Symphony" was a masterpiece, intended to depict the horrors, despair, failures, and demise of human life. It was filled with pessimism, negating any optimism or joy in life.
Tchaikovsky deliberately portrayed the hustle and bustle of people's lives in the lody, but he also revealed an eternal truth:
Death is absolute and inevitable, and all the joys of life are fleeting.
The emotions Tchaikovsky expressed reflected the repressed state of the people in the late Tsarist Russia.
Tragically, just six days after completing the "Pathetique Symphony," Tchaikovsky died of cholera. The symphony beca his swan song.
But,
This was the kind of frenzy Anson was looking for - a kind of burning, unrestrained passion, a different kind of energy and attitude, resonating with the alcohol and the party tonight.
Scarlett looked up and saw Anson sitting at the piano, swaying like a god of wine, his neatly combed hair gradually becoming disheveled. There was a kind of unrestrained wildness about him that was hard to look away from.
The next thing Scarlett knew, she was standing next to the piano, watching Anson's hands dance across the black and white keys. Even though it was a player piano, it could adjust its performance based on the player's state -
Of course, the adjustnts were chanical, like a computer.
Anson's carefree and unrestrained spirit made Tchaikovsky's music co alive, captivating and stirring.
Scarlett suddenly realized she was standing too close to the piano. The emotions and colors of the lody poured over her like a rainstorm, her heart trembling slightly. She should have kept so distance to appreciate the performance.
But even though she realized this, her feet seed rooted to the spot.
The performance finally ca to an end.
Scarlett's heart was racing. "Play it again," she said.
But Anson had already stood up and stretched. "No, you can't play it again. This is a complete movent. You have to experience it all at once, feel the lody flowing through your fingertips, feel the emotions leaping in the notes. When it's over, it's over. You can't go back."
Walking over to the coffee table, Anson examined the fruit basket and grabbed an apple, taking a big bite.
Then he noticed the large book in Scarlett's hands. He tilted his head and studied it. "Oh, Sophocles."
Scarlett glanced at the cover, her expression a little stiff. "Oh, I just picked it up randomly. I actually have no idea what it's about. Maybe you could give so pointers?"
It's better to admit you don't know sothing than to pretend and make a fool of yourself.
A smile flickered in Anson's eyes. "I don't know much either, just a little bit. He was an ancient Greek tragedian. I think there's a reason why ancient Greek tragedies have endured for so long, so I wanted to explore them."
"Unfortunately, I only got through two pages before the sheet music caught my attention."
He chuckled self-deprecatingly, lightening the mood.
Scarlett looked at the book in her hands, then at the piano.
She had no connection to the piano, she was even afraid to get close to it, filled with a sense of awe. But now, she couldn't help but feel curious.
Unconsciously, she took a step forward.
She turned her head and saw encouragent in Anson's eyes. Their gazes t.
(End of Chapter 3)
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