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Thank you, Monica! What a wonderful review! I so much appreciate your very kind words. I had a great time working on that CD. I'm working on a new essay about the recording process, and, as is usually the case, I'm learning a lot about what I think by writing it down.

I like our new word—Dressini. Is it a cocktail or is it a wardrobe item? You won't see me wearing one, but you might see me drinking one.

My very own wedding anniversary is this weekend—#23. Both my husband and I are working on this date—he has a concert and I am playing for (drum roll) a wedding.

Bavarian Wedding Alert!! Nobody ever warns me about these things. I showed up at the castle yesterday to play my nice safe little cocktail gig, and there they were in the garden, under a huge tent—200 Germans in traditional Bavarian outfits. You know you're out of place when you're the only woman in the crowd not wearing a dirndl, a push-up bra, and an apron. The men were all in Lederhosen, checkered shirts, and those little felt hats with feathers in them. They looked like they should be living in a gingerbread house or marching out of a cuckoo clock.

I have competed with jazz bands, DJs, braying men's choirs, and ageing chirps. I have had to go head on with solo saxophone, accordion, and little kids playing the violin. But nothing, and I mean nothing, ever prepared me for the sound of four alphorns filtering (wrong word, I mean exploding) through the open door to the castle terrace. And that was nothing compared to the oompah band, which featured not one, but two tubas. I sent a photo to my husband with the caption: "My competition for this evening." He wrote back and said: "You're gonna lose—hard."

The audio anguish was only slightly worse than the sight of four roasted whole pigs being carried through the lobby and right past the piano. Yikes!

I came home and my husband said I smelled like Sauerkraut.

There was the traditional Bavarian kidnapping of the bride, the drinking of beer in glasses the size of buckets, the linking of arms, and the swaying of bodies in time to the t-t-t-tuba. What a scene. The Bavarian Waltons (a blond family with at least eight kids in matching wool felt jackets) tired of the tent action and planted themselves in the lobby and listened to my music. They ran out of there in an instant when they found out the pig was being carved.

Oh, wait, this was just the rehearsal dinner. The actual wedding took place this afternoon. Heaven only knows what mayhem awaits me on my return this evening.

I want to be you in my next life and I want to be your shadow in this life...sorry. I don't mean to be creepy but I enjoy living vicariously through you!

Alpenhorns do not sound so bad, if you are far enough away. Those felt jackets and leather shorts are cute. Dirndls can do wonders for the figure; there are persons whose fashion vocabulary begins and ends with the word 'Spandex' who would do well to think on it. And don't try to tell us that you are a stranger to push-up bras. (Even these devices are not so bad, compared to the horrors of the girdle, which is apparently having a comeback. Those fervent prayers from people who wanted to both eat their cake, and have it, have been granted, though as usual there's an unexpected downside. Be careful what you pray for, and especially avoid mentioning the words 'boned,' 'underwire,' or 'stays' in prayer.)

But you're out ahead of all these things, Robin.

Your only real competition, the way I see it, is the four roast pigs. You know, now that you mention it, it's a funny thing, but I once wrote a little tune using the words from the story of the Three Little Pigs. It was the Big, Bad Wolf (wouldn't you know) who drove the action, of course:

"Little pig, little pig,
Let me come in!
Not by the hair
Of my chinny chin chin.
Then I'll HUFF
And I'll PUFF
And I'll B-L-O-O-O-O-W your house in!

It came to me as I was driving the car on some mundane errand, and won't seem to go away.

Before I forget, let me thank you for your story about sauna culture in Germany. Who knew--- though, these things do seem to thrive in especially cold places. The photo illustration far exceeded what I am used to seeing at the YMCA where I go for the sauna, and I am sure the aromatherapy is MUCH preferable. California though it is, our homey little place seems to have been behind the door when the chicte' was being handed out.

I do not believe the problem of barbequed Piggies On Parade--- right through the lobby, no less--- is going to prove at all tractable. You can either keep playing, or join the parade and come back to your duties later (washing your hands before touching the keys, of course). Since the management has allowed the one, they will have to allow the other. They are probably in the parade themselves.

A movie from 1955 entitled "Teaserama" and featuring Ms Storm has just come into my possession. She does a sort of reverse striptease - getting out of bed in bra and panties then putting ON various complicated (and quite unnecessary) undergarments, eventually ending up in a sparkly blue evening gown. A bit of rather odd horseplay with the maid, then it's all over.

YouTube has a number of videos featuring Tempest Storm, like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qb8iy6vvpPc

I wasn't aware that one could do that sort of thing in heels, but what do I know?

Tempest is a wonder of the world. I think she might approve of the dirndl-look at the Bavarian wedding. But she would certainly suggest losing the puffy skirts and going with the aprons ONLY. As Tempest herself says:"Ladies, you've got to show off your figures!" Now there's a look: Dirndl, apron, no skirt. Brunhilde Boffs Bavaria. Not so good for playing the piano though. I do enjoy a nice layer of fabric between my backside and the piano bench.

The wedding people had cleared out by the time I returned to work on Saturday evening. They had daytime nuptials and then headed somewhere else for the big dinner. Our castle was too small to handle the huge crowd. Who knows how many more pigs were consumed.

Clef, you are correct—I am no stranger to the push-up bra. But, as other female pianists will verify, these things can present their own challenges. Guests tend to walk to the piano and stop to chat. They are above me, looking down. A little too much "push" in the push-up and June is bustin' out all over.

On Sunday, we got away from roast pigs and corsets and presented a concert at the castle. For the last three years I've been the Artistic Director for a concert series there—about once a month we present something fabulous! This month we invited Gerald Clayton, in town for an appearance in a big concert hall, to grace our tiny castle salon with his musical magic. He came with his dad, Grammy winning bassist John Clayton, and oh boy, were they ever great!

I am on a little break from work for the next ten days. Headed back to the piano bench on May 24. I'm digging into my new writing project. There might be a bride or two involved. Or a Dressini.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tempest_storm



"...Storm was born Annie Blanche Banks in Eastman, Georgia. By the age of 20, she had already been married and divorced twice and decided to go to Hollywood. Her beauty landed her work as a chorus girl, but her figure, combined with a magnetic stage personality, led her to a highly successful career in burlesque. Her professional debut was at El Rey Theater in Oakland California. She adopted the stage name Tempest Storm circa 1950 and changed it legally in 1957. In 1955, while working at the Tropics Nightclub in Denver, Tempest visited the University of Colorado Boulder campus. All she took off was her mink coat, but this started a near-riot... sparked a "burlesque war" that made it into the pages of LIFE magazine on November 30, 1953... In the late 1950s, her breasts - "moneymakers" as she called them - were insured by Lloyds of London for one million dollars. She acted in several motion pictures both as herself and in a character role..."

The photo with the article is worth some attention. No silicone, no underwires, and if she's had a lift she spent good money on it, because it sure doesn't show. Could be there's some hair color and a perm, or a wig... but these are modest enough when ladies one-fifth her age wouldn't even go to the supermarket without them. And after all, she is a natural redhead.

What a fortunate person, to have found her true calling in life, and to have enjoyed it for so long.

I went past the site of the El Rey yesterday. It was torn down for I-580, long before I started going down San Pablo Avenue regularly.

When I was working with Tempest (isn't it fabulous to be able to say that?), I witnessed a "mink coat drop" that I will never ever forget. It was New year's Eve at the Folly Theater in Kansas City. Outside of theater there was a traditional ball-dropping ceremony—in fact everyone called this area the "Times Square of the Midwest." The cast of our show was asked to be outside shortly before midnight. We were booked there for another month and the producer thought having us attend the ball-drop would generate some good press. We had done two shows that night, we were tired, and it was freezing cold outside, but,being dutiful minions of the stage, outside we headed, still in our costumes and make-up, spackled and sequined.

The countdown started. TEN, NINE, EIGHT . . .

Thousands of people stood in the square, shivering and waiting the ring in the new year.

SEVEN, SIX . . . we all counted together . . . .

The stage door flew open, and out came Tempest, doing The Walk. And wearing the famous white mink coat.

Silently, the crowd parted for her, and she sauntered to the center of the square, where she stood under the ball.

Five, FOUR, THREE . . .

A few people were still counting, but most of us were standing there with our mouths hanging open.

Tempest turned her back to the crowd.

TWO, ONE . . .

And then, just as the ball dropped, Tempest, her back to us, dropped her mink coat. I'd like to say she was naked, but she was wearing a backless gold sequined dress, cut so low that she might as well have been naked.

The crowd gasped. I can still hear that sound—that big collective intake of freezing January air.

Tempest completely upstaged the dropping of the ball. She turned around quietly, waved one graceful arm, and shouted "Happy New Year, Kansas City!" Then she slinked back to the stage door and disappeared into the darkness.

How's that for stealing the show? We sold out the next sixteen shows.

Tempest Storm gets mentioned favorably in the current issue of The New Yorker (May 13, 2013) in an article ("Take it Off") about the "new burlesque" movement in New York. Based on the article, I'd opt for the old burlesque, but that's just me...

First it was Filene's Basement. Then it was discount wedding gowns at former grocery stores--- over on the wrong side of town, but such great deals. Then came (a really bad idea) "Bridezillas." And now, here we are at the brokerage which sells cancelled weddings. I expect any time now we'll have Divorce Insurance bundled into our homeowner and auto coverage... but that is an unhappy idea.

I hope the CNBC link works for you, but I've added in the text, just in case. It is a short--- but telling--- item. And while we're on the subject, how is that line of wedding wear, designed by Tempest, coming along? I would like to see the ad for her creations modeled on television IF THEY DARE.

http://www.cnbc.com/id/100746693?__source=xfinity|mod&par=xfinity

"Budget Brides Save By Buying Canceled Weddings
Published: Friday, 17 May 2013 | 1:09 PM ET
By: Amy Langfield Content Editor
Greta Marie | StockImage | Getty Images

"Getting left at the altar is bad enough, but it's even worse if you're also stuck holding the bag filled with bills.

"One website is helping would-be brides cut their losses if their weddings are called it off. Couples can lose thousands of dollars in deposits on reception halls, flowers, photographers and more.

"If you're a bride you can go ahead and log on and you'll be able to see if there are open wedding dates that have been called off or if there are vendors in your area that have open weddings that they would like to sell off at a discount," said Lauren Byrne, founder of BridalBrokerage.com.

"Angela Wakefield and her fiancé, Chris Watkins, used the site to save about $4,000 on their California wedding reception.

"We figured it was a no-brainer to get a prepaid package, and it was kind of all planned out, so it was easier and cost effective," Wakefield said. "I think it was just really easy, it took the headache away from me."

"Wakefield found a canceled $12,000 package that was on sale through the brokerage for $7,900.

"Wakefield ended up way ahead the game considering the average U.S. couple spent $25,656 for their wedding in 2012, according to research company Wedding Report.

"Since we're saving so much money, I can splurge on some other things," Wakefield said.

"The brokerage attracts deal seekers, along with "non-planners, and those on accelerated timelines, including active deployment and pregnancies," according to the website. Most couples who buy canceled weddings are still able to choose their own food, colors, flowers and cake, depending on how close it is to the wedding date. In some cases, they incur extra fees for changes or upgrades to the originally purchased package.

"It's a win for everyone," said Lauren Jennings, the general manager of Wedgewood Wedding & Banquet Center. "For the venue, we now have a wedding that we were hoping for on a particular date. The old bride who canceled, she now gets a portion of her money back that she paid. For the new bride, she gets an amazing deal for her wedding."

Jilted, Jilted

I just figured out the reason for the lack of weddings this year—seems our young brides are superstitious about the number 2013. Go figure.

This brokerage thing is a riot, Clef! I actually know someone who cancelled her wedding (with good reason) and lost 100% of everything her parents had paid. I think the parents should have found some other reason to throw a party, since they were paying for it anyway. But I guess they weren't in a celebrating mood.

I am playing for a wedding on Saturday evening. During the dinner, I'm trading sets with a string quartet. Should be a nice evening. I am hoping for a bridal party outfitted in Tempest Storm Bridal Wear. After last month's Dressini, anything is possible.

I just returned from a very nice visit to the USA where I hung out with my parents for a few weeks. My dad the drummer, almost 80, is still playing gigs. What fun it is to trade war stories with him. 65 years in the business—you can imagine the things he remembers. Heck, he even played for Tempest back in the good old Burlesque days. He is the master of dirty drumming.

The Brides of June

FRIDAY
Oh, dear. Friday's wedding at the castle involved fisticuffs. I was there, playing in the lobby for my regular customers, not for the pink lace and tuxedo-ed crowd hanging out in the back salon. The bride, who looked very beautiful, was NOT HAPPY, not one bit. Evidently she was complaining about everything to anyone who would listen.

Okay, here is what happened, when the Best Man stood up to propose a toast to the lovely couple, he said this: "Here is the way we treat our brides where I come from." Then he slapped his wife in the face (I know, it's not funny, but it does have a certain John Cleese vibe to it). Then about twelve men tackled him and forced him up to his room. Dessert had just been served when this happened, so there was a lot of chocolate mousse and creme brulée involved in the tackle. The Best Man (or should we say BEAST MAN) was evicted from the wedding reception. The party went on, but the charm of the evening had sort of evaporated. Nothing like a little wife beating to destroy the festivities. At 3:30 in the morning, the wife of the Best Man (the slappee) ran into the lobby, screaming that he was destroying the 800 € a night suite.

Police were called. The Best Man had swung (literally) from the two chandeliers in the suite and ripped them right out of the ceiling, taking down a lot of plaster with them. Then he kicked in the door of a 500 year old armoire.

The wife did not press charges, but did ask to be moved to another room. The Best Man sobered up when he saw the police and agreed to behave and pay for the damages.

The bride, she of the bad mood, gave the hotel staff a huge tip the next morning. My guess is that she KNEW the Best Man was trouble right from the start, and that's why she was so miserable.

SATURDAY
Much better. The shattered glass and plaster dust had been swept away to make way for Saturday's June bride, a lovely woman in her fifties who wore a giant white pouffy dress and roses in her hair. I was hired to play for dinner, trading sets with a string quartet. What an easy evening for me. It went as well as these things can go, until I went to the ladies room. There I was, taking care of business in the toilet stall (my daughter calls this ladies' room "The Queen's Potty") when I heard two of our well-heeled wedding guests complain about the music.

"So boring. We can't even dance."

"A string quartet? It's so old-fashioned? Blah, blah. Strauss, blah."

"And you'd think that pianist could at least play some Alicia Keys. Or some boogie-woogie."

Well. I ripped out of that toilet stall just as fast as I could, just so they would know that I had heard them. They completely panicked when they saw me, which, I must admit, gave me great pleasure. There was no slapping, but I considered it.

"Don't worry, ladies," I said. "The DJ will be starting soon. Celebration time, come on!! All the boring music will be over soon."

I flicked the water from my hands and made a dramatic exit, leaving the two of them standing there with their Estee Lauder compacts at half mast.

When I returned to the dining room the String Quartet had sequed from Strauss into a dramatic version of "Swanee," which might be the last thing I'd expect to hear played by a string quartet at a castle in Germany.

For some reason there were three DJs hired for the night, which seemed a little excessive for a party of 53. I left at 11:00, just when all the fun was beginning.

And that's all I know.

Awesome story. Most people think of what they should have said later and kick themselves, but you rose to the occasion and handled it right then. They didn't know who they were messing with!



Wierdest thing I heard in Germany was a wind band in Munich playing the American march "Them Basses" at breakneck speed.

I googled it and found that it was written by Getty Herschel Huffine, who to my surprise turns out to be a real person. I had always believed Them Basses to be a Henry Fillmore march. Fillmore wrote marches so prolifically he used a number of pseudonyms to get more sales past school boards.

Well thanks, Tim. Not so long ago I would have gotten flustered by that ladies' room situation. But being 55 does have its advantages!

Oh my, "Them Basses?" That's a riot!

I once heard the marching band at Buckingham Palace (during the changing of the guard ceremony) play "Tie a Yellow Ribbon." I stood there thinking, WHAT??? I came all this way to hear a Tony Orlando cover?

Let's see what the next weekend brings.

I heard the Coasters' "Charlie Brown" in German at Oktoberfest in Munich.

"Charlie Braun, Charlie Braun, du bist Clown..."

...or something like that.

My wife and I nearly lost our composure when the "Why's everybody always pickin' on me" part came around. I wish I had the lyrics. As I remember it, the words were a less-then-perfect rhythmic fit.

I once traveled all the way to Bahia in Brazil—a very long trip. What awaited me in the lobby of the hotel? A cocktail pianist playing the ultimate arpeggio ad-nauseo version of "Autumn Leaves."

So it goes.

And we found troupes of poncho-wearing, pan-flute, goatskin drum and charanga playing Andean musicians in Vienna's Stephansplatz. (for those unfamiliar with the genre, think "El Condor Pasa")

So far from the true cradle of their music...

... in the larger stations of the NYC Subway.

I mean no offense. I'm rather partial to that style of music. It even seems to benefit from the spacious reverberation afforded by all the shiny white tiles. Not much room for piano though.