Pure Genius

The fellow above is one Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart born this day 1756 in Salzburg, Austria. He is the hands down choice for the hero of the day, and back in my younger days he made me feel quite small. Listening to his 25th Symphony used to help me quell some of the young man rage that we all feel, by helping me release it. His 29th Symphony is one of the calmest, most relaxing pieces of any type of music I have ever listened to. His father, Leopold, was a deputy Kapellmeister to the Archbishop of Salzburg, and a minor composer in his own right. However, he gave that position up when it became apparent that he had sired an absolute musical genius. We have (at least we all should) know about the musical prodigy the four year old Mozart giving piano recitals for the Queen of France, the piles and piles of music of unbelievable quality. It would appear that all this genius was wrapped in an unremarkable package. He was a small, little fellow with a fine mane of hair, of which he was quite vain, but people who knew him would say that there were no outward signs of genius. Of course, I am not sure what an outward sign of genius would look like. His cause of death was, and remains, a mystery but it was not quite like the movie version portrayed in "Amadeus." He was during his final illness composing the Requiem Mass, but not quite as dramatically as seen in the movie. For several years, my friends and I (back when I had friends) would hold a Mozart wake on the day of his death. We would listen to his music, and drink cheap (i.e. Blue Nun) German wine. I can tell you for a fact that Blue Nun and Oreoes do NOT mix. So for writing music of such pure, fucking genius, and being a pretty entertaining drunk, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (January 27th, 1756-December 5th 1791, at the age of 35), you are my (156th) hero of the day.