Beethoven Does Bluegrass

The title of this post caught your attention, didn't it?  Good, 'cause that was the intent.  We'll get to the connection between Beethoven and Bluegrass, but bear with me, because the launch of this blog is a momentous occasion, and one worth explaining.


For several years now, I've been following the blog of a former coworker who slandered me on the interwebs.  I believe her blog post title for my final day at that illustrious (and stuffy, and stifling, and boring, and backwater) museum was "Ding Dong, the Dickhead's Gone," but I'm not bitter or anything.  In reading her self-absorbed blog religiously for more than six years -- yes, six LONG years of incessant babbling about how "fabulous" and "fantastic" and "amazing" she is -- I became convinced that if a dolt like her could maintain a blog (albeit without the use of spell-check), then why couldn't I?  I'm better read, have concerns beyond my pathetic self, can write to entertain the masses, and dammit, I'm just more interesting than she is.  Plus I can use it as a form of talk therapy.  And as a way to talk about all my priceless thrift store finds.  And maybe we'll even discover along the way together than I have adult ADHD.


So back to good ol' Ludwig. 


I'd been whining for weeks to Owney that I wanted to see Alison Krauss and Union Station in concert at the Mescalero casino.  After checking ticket prices several times -- and having conferred with a coworker who informed me that the concert venue would offer banquet chairs and not stadium-style seating -- I nearly wrote off seeing AKUS.  But then yesterday morning I went on StubHub (admittedly, it wasn't the first time; I'd actually checked prices nearly every day for the past two weeks), and managed to score $85 tickets for $10 each.  Including a service charge and convenience fee, the total was under $30 for both of us to see AKUS, the most winningest Grammy recipient in American music history.


After our two hour drive, arriving within 10 miles of a raging wildfire that is still out of control, we entered the venue and I immediately noticed how "country" the crowd was, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that a woman resembling Beethoven (physically, idiosyncratically, AND couture-ically) quickly caught our attention.  Among middle-aged cowboys, geriatric cowgirls, and more Stetsons than there are native Texans, I was smitten by her navy blue jacket studded with wingback chair-style brass nailheads, not to mention her resemblance to everyone's favorite classical composer.


I swear to you, dear reader, if you look to your left, this is the very same person we saw at the concert last night.  

After some tee-heeing, we hit the bar for a drink (or two, in my case) before locating our cheap seats just 14 rows from center stage. 

Imagine our surprise when we plopped our butts on the hard chairs and discovered that Ludwig was seated directly in front of us. 

Big deal, right?  The lights would soon dim, and the show would begin.

But you'd be wrong. 


Not only was the crowd fairly well-lit the entire show, but Ludwig put on quite a show of his (er, her) own. 


Three things of note soon transpired.  First, she opened her mouth, and Owney and I recognized the accent as that of a Lawwwwng Oyyylander.  Good gravy, there we were on an Apache Reservation, and it was like a bad taste of New Yawk.  Second, she constantly turned her head from side to side, like a chicken, as if expecting her buddy Wolfgang Amadeus at any minute.  Third, and most notable, she clapped the ENTIRE show, which of course would make sense during a foot-stomping bluegrass show, but she did it sporadically, and off-tempo, serving as a constant distraction for everyone within 30 feet for an entire 90 minutes.

So there you have it.  Would you have ever guessed the connection between Beethoven and Bluegrass?  I bet not.

Incidentally, the show was great, even if a haze of smog hung above our heads the entire time from the casino's wafting cigarette smoke.