Famous Austrians IX: Falco

Seriously, this man was a genius, and (after Mozart) probably the most famous Austrian musician. Here is a sample of his music:

Falco, born Johann Hölzel in Vienna in 1957, was a 1980's pop/rock icon, and is most noted in the USA for his 1985 hit "Rock Me Amadeus" (and its Simpsons parody "Dr. Zaius") though he had plenty of other fabulous songs. Unfortunately, his talent and popularity was not really extended beyond the German-speaking world, mostly because of language barriers.

Similar to Mozart, Falco was considered a child musical prodigy, after he tried out for the Vienna Music Academy at age five. He reportedly had perfect pitch. He began classical musical training in Vienna as a teenager, but the dropped out to pursue a rock career.

Falco died tragically young in a car crash in the Dominican Republic in 1998. And very unfortunately, unlike Tupac, Falco's posthumous CD releases are few and far between. However, his music is still immortalized in Austria - every time I go to Zielpunkt, I hear "Der Kommissar" over the store radio.

Another side of Vienna

This music video was show by a teacher in one of my 7th forms as an exercise in telling directions in English, and I found myself really enjoying the song. And added bonus is that the music video was filmed in a Fiaker, one of those horse-drawn coaches that is extremely expensive (50 euros per 20 minutes) and goes around the first district (Innere Stadt) to see all of the lovely monuments.

For those of you asking to see more of Vienna, pay attention to the background of the video. Toward the end, they go past my street! I was pretty excited when I saw... 

Tanz Baby! Nur Du (2009)

Café Europa: Life after Communism

wrong one, but it'll do

I recently finished a book I bought while visiting a friend in Poland. Café Europa, its contents as well as how it and I found each other, are of equal story-telling merit. Thus, I must begin with our first encounter:

It was a dark and stormy night... No, wait.

Krakow, bleak December. Just a minute.

Imagine you have decided to visit your friend from university who is teaching English in Poland, while you are teaching English in Austria. Imagine that you decided to pick the perfect time to visit, when you had a bit of time off from work because of one of the many, many Catholic holidays Austria celebrates: The Immaculate Conception. Which just happens to be 8 December. Perfect.

You arrive in Krakow early in the morning, having left before dawn on a bus with no heat from the small town where your friend teaches. It is snowing and freezing and it is quite possible you have not felt this kind of cold in several years - if ever - a dry, scratchy cold, sort of what you get in the plains of the American Midwest...for example, North Dakota.

Your friend suggests keeping warm above all else. You agree, your survival instincts kicking in. You dash into the mall next to the bus terminal, and suddenly everything becomes familiar...civilized...except that all of the shop signs are written in Polish. Aside from that, this could be any mall in any city in the world. It is very warm, and you think about buying a cup of coffee, but your friend scoffs.

"Don't you want to see the real Krakow?" she asks.

"Of course," you acquiesce.

You trot along the main square, survival mode breaking out again and quashing your enjoyment of, admittedly, a very beautiful city. The facades of the buildings seem to belong to the middle ages. The locals are dressed in fur and waterproof boots. Smart of them. You are in your normal black boots (decidedly not waterproof after going through snow drifts) and parka and woolen hat with a Green Bay Packers logo. Your friend suggests going to an English language book store, one of her favorites, she professes. Now you are only thinking about warmth. But, certainly, book stores are always nice, too.

Slavenka Drakulić

And here is where you find: Café Europa. The front cover looks interesting, but the back cover hooks you. Café Europa happens to be a collection of essays about life in post-Communist eastern Europe. Score! you think. This is just your ticket. For some reason, you have had a mild obsession with former Soviet bloc countries for the past two or so years. And the author, Slavenka Draculić, is not only a prominent Croatian writer and journalist, she hails from the former Yugoslavia (having spent most of her life in Croatia while it was still part of Yugoslavia). Living in Vienna when she wrote most of the essays (between 1992-1996), you think, again, this is perfect, since you, too are living in Austria. And you are not disappointed.

Draculić's prose is simple, yet poignant, informed to a high degree without being pedantic, and hilariously funny. Think the Croatian, female David Sedaris, but replace "being gay" with "living under Communism" and throw in feminist themes for good measure. Definitely the most satisfying 49 złoty ever spent.

*For those interested (and planning on visiting Krakow) here is the book store's website.

Regionalmusikschule Amstetten: Schulkonzert

Ballet recitals are a thing of my childhood. I remember being a very poor ballet student, never being coordinated, talented or practiced enough to take much pride in my recitals. This is something I regret now, of course, seeing the amazingness of Natalie Portman in Black Swan, or even some of my students participate in their own recitals here in Amstetten.

I was invited last Friday to see the year-end recital for the Amstetten regional music school by one of my students. It was interesting on several levels:

1. The recital was just about 3 hours and took practically every lesson the school offers into account: a Kindergarten choir, a brass band concert, an abridged ballet (Le Corsaire by Adolphe Adam), and a jazz/tap/modern dance recital.

2. Being able to see other aspects of students outside of school: their talents, their personalities, what they spend a lot of time doing, what they're passionate about. Dancing, playing the saxophone or drums, etc.

3. It's refreshing to know that not all Europeans are super-classy and dignified. The image Americans have in their heads is a bunch of Austrians at the Vienna Philharmonic in tuxes and ball gowns staring through opera glasses at the performers and clapping daintily after each set. This recital, however, saw plenty of families from the Kindergarten group get up and leave as soon as their kids jumped off the stage. Americans, though we can be crass, are not the only crass human beings on the planet.

4. I found one more thing to do in Amstetten!

I was pleasantly surprised at the level of enthusiasm and hard work that went into the recital, and found it very worthwhile to attend. Bravo!