HEADLINE: Chamber Concert Culminates In Applause, Bows
Felix Mendelssohn’s Octet is not the freshest work to sully our ears in recent times, comprising self-evidently a well-worn chestnut, but one assumes it was fresh when it was written. Such, if any, seemed to be the contention of the (ADJECTIVE) musicians who performed with (QUANTITY, PLURAL) of verve last evening at the (MUPPETS CHARACTER) (SCOTTISH SURNAME) Performing Arts Center. Whether this verve was (MILDLY DISPARAGING ADJECTIVE), this critic is not yet prepared to offer judgement.
If the musicians seemed a bit (ADJECTIVE) at the first, perhaps this was due to the bowstrokes of (EASTERN EUROPEAN SURNAME), reminiscent more of (DESSERT) than a (ATHLETIC EVENT). This critic, let me tell you, will be none too eager to hear the music of (20th CENTURY COMPOSER) again, as his (BLENDER SETTING) of dissonance seems merely a (EXTREMELY DISPARAGING ADJECTIVE) rehash of (19th CENTURY COMPOSER). But, I don’t wish to be critical. Tender moments (VERB PAST TENSE), and the able musicians were not entirely (VEGETATIVE STATE).
The concert proceeded onwards, after its first piece, to the second, and to the rhythmic (FENCING MANEUVER) of the duo pianists in (FRENCH SURNAME, POSSESSIVE) (FRENCH NOUN). Though their accuracy was not always utterly (BEWILDERING PHRASE VAGUELY MEANING “GOOD”), their (FRENCH ADJECTIVE) and (FRENCH BODYPART) somewhat (VERB, PAST TENSE). Mr. (SILLY SURNAME) seemed to approach the 88 keys with a bit more (DAIRY PRODUCT), but this was more than grounded by Mr. (ANOTHER SILLY SURNAME)’s aggressive, (MEAT PRODUCT)-like sensibilities.
However, all Gallic (PRETENTIOUS NOUN) was forgotten in the welcomed aftermath of intermission, when, refreshed, the musicians strutted Germanically back onstage to somewhat deserved applause to play the third and final previously mentioned work. (EASTERN EUROPEAN SURNAME) soared through the familiar work with (BODY OF WATER, PLURAL) of virtuosic (NOUN) which reminded us of none more than the youthful (FORMER PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES or NFL QUARTERBACK). Other players also (VERB, PAST TENSE) with aplomb, particularly (FEMALE PORN STAR NAME), whose vibrato was not unlike her (HAIRSTYLE). The Scherzo especially oozed with humor and (PRETENTIOUS SYNONYM FOR HUMOR), yet no one was laughing, least of all this listener, when the players dedicated the (SENTIMENTAL ADJECTIVE) encore to the memory of (RECENTLY PASSED AWAY CELEBRITY).
All in all, the evening, despite certain caveats, was a musical (NOUN), and made a convincing (REALLY BORING NOUN), if nothing else.
(coming soon: MadLibs Think Denk post!)
10 Comments
Too bad you missed the dedication ceremoy at Good Shepard center.
David Mesler played The third movement of the Ives that you played last week or so at the Festival.
I love a chance to compare.
The theme of the event was the year 1907, the year that Good shepard opened.
David played a laced up, model T version as compared to the rocket ship you gave us.
At least, I assume you weren’t there. Because of the Ives, I looked
looking forward to you and Mozart wedensday.
I laughed out loud, loudly. A classic, thank you so much.
You are my substitute for talking with my brother when that cannot occur.
You rock.
i know this was meant to be purely a joke, and that for many of the choices you probably had specific words in mind, but i’m a major nerd, and i decided to do this madlib with my bf. here is the result:
HEADLINE: Chamber Concert Culminates In Applause, Bows
Felix Mendelssohn’s Octet is not the freshest work to sully our ears in recent times, comprising self-evidently a well-worn chestnut, but one assumes it was fresh when it was written. Such, if any, seemed to be the contention of the FAST musicians who performed with 2.54 CUBIC POUNDS of verve last evening at the SNUFFALUFAGUS MCCLOUD Performing Arts Center. Whether this verve was VAPID, this critic is not yet prepared to offer judgement.
If the musicians seemed a bit SHARP at the first, perhaps this was due to the bowstrokes of KLITCHKO, reminiscent more of CHOCOLATE TUXEDO TRUFFLES than a SPECIAL OLYMPICS EVENT. This critic, let me tell you, will be none too eager to hear the music of AARON COPELAND again, as his LIQUIDATION of dissonance seems merely a CORPULENT rehash of WAGNER. But, I don’t wish to be critical. Tender moments PUMMEL, and the able musicians were not entirely HYBERNATING.
The concert proceeded onwards, after its first piece, to the second, and to the rhythmic PARRY of the duo pianists in LA MARQUE’S CROISSANT. Though their accuracy was not always utterly JACKIE CHAN-ESQUE, their RONDULE and ORTEIL somewhat BITCH-SLAPPED. Mr. FORMICA seemed to approach the 88 keys with a bit more MEXICAN CREAM, but this was more than grounded by Mr. BONER’s aggressive, PROSCIUTTO-like sensibilities.
However, all Gallic GALLANTLY was forgotten in the welcomed aftermath of intermission, when, refreshed, the musicians strutted Germanically back onstage to somewhat deserved applause to play the third and final previously mentioned work. VOLFO soared through the familiar work with GREAT LAKES of virtuosic SATIN SCARF which reminded us of none more than the youthful TAFT. Other players also CARVED with aplomb, particularly IVANA HUMPALOT, whose vibrato was not unlike her BEEHIVE. The Scherzo especially oozed with humor and FARCE, yet no one was laughing, least of all this listener, when the players dedicated the HEARTWARMING encore to the memory of ANNA-NICOLE SMITH.
All in all, the evening, despite certain caveats, was a musical JAGUAR MASK, and made a convincing WHITE-OUT, if nothing else.
HEADLINE: Chamber Concert Culminates In Applause, Bows
Felix Mendelssohn’s Octet is not the freshest work to sully our ears in recent times, comprising self-evidently a well-worn chestnut, but one assumes it was fresh when it was written. Such, if any, seemed to be the contention of the (new) musicians who performed with (zillions) of verve last evening at the (Gonzo Cúchulainn) Performing Arts Center. Whether this verve was (disinteresting), this critic is not yet prepared to offer judgement.
If the musicians seemed a bit (unwieldy) at the first, perhaps this was due to the bowstrokes of (Lugovoi), reminiscent more of (chocolate chip cookies) than a (curling spiel). This critic, let me tell you, will be none too eager to hear the music of (Philip Glass) again, as his (stir) of dissonance seems merely a (reprehensible) rehash of (Jacques Offenbach). But, I don’t wish to be critical. Tender moments (handled), and the able musicians were not entirely (rotten).
The concert proceeded onwards, after its first piece, to the second, and to the rhythmic (parry four) of the duo pianists in (Murail’s) (Climatiseur). Though their accuracy was not always utterly (within and above more than a few centimeters of the humanly and mountainously milquetoast), their (bleu) and (nez) somewhat (slept). Mr. (Putin) seemed to approach the 88 keys with a bit more (yogurt), but this was more than grounded by Mr. (Bush)’s aggressive, (tripe)-like sensibilities.
However, all Gallic (accessible) was forgotten in the welcomed aftermath of intermission, when, refreshed, the musicians strutted Germanically back onstage to somewhat deserved applause to play the third and final previously mentioned work. (Yushchenko) soared through the familiar work with (Lake Superiors) of virtuosic (atrocity) which reminded us of none more than the youthful (Andrew Johnson). Other players also (drank) with aplomb, particularly (Silvia Saint), whose vibrato was not unlike her (dreadlocks). The Scherzo especially oozed with humor and (drollness), yet no one was laughing, least of all this listener, when the players dedicated the (melodious) encore to the memory of (Tammy Faye).
All in all, the evening, despite certain caveats, was a musical (holocaust), and made a convincing (19th Century Russian Piano Concerto), if nothing else.
Here goes . . .
HEADLINE: Chamber Concert Culminates In Applause, Bows
Felix Mendelssohn’s Octet is not the freshest work to sully our ears in recent times, comprising self-evidently a well-worn chestnut, but one assumes it was fresh when it was written. Such, if any, seemed to be the contention of the (overly zealous) musicians who performed with (10k vibrations per second) of verve last evening at the (Fozzie) (MacDoogal) Performing Arts Center. Whether this verve was (stimulant induced), this critic is not yet prepared to offer judgement.
If the musicians seemed a bit (disturbed) at the first, perhaps this was due to the bowstrokes of (Vaslewski), reminiscent more of (flan) than a (hurling championship). This critic, let me tell you, will be none too eager to hear the music of (John Cage) again, as his (pulse) of dissonance seems merely a (sleazeball) rehash of (Rossini). But, I don’t wish to be critical. Tender moments (penetrated), and the able musicians were not entirely (comatose).
The concert proceeded onwards, after its first piece, to the second, and to the rhythmic (lunge) of the duo pianists in (Poindexter’s) (Fromage). Though their accuracy was not always utterly (Spiderman-in-a-black-suit ish), their (pourpre) and (chapeau de genou) somewhat (kicked ass). Mr. (Ticklepuss) seemed to approach the 88 keys with a bit more (whipped cream), but this was more than grounded by Mr. (Spanken)’s aggressive, (sausage)-like sensibilities.
However, all Gallic (highfalutin’) was forgotten in the welcomed aftermath of intermission, when, refreshed, the musicians strutted Germanically back onstage to somewhat deserved applause to play the third and final previously mentioned work. (Gadomski) soared through the familiar work with (oceans) of virtuosic (hairgel) which reminded us of none more than the youthful (O.J. Simpson). Other players also (bolted) with aplomb, particularly (Violet Vagina), whose vibrato was not unlike her (bob). The Scherzo especially oozed with humor and (jocularity), yet no one was laughing, least of all this listener, when the players dedicated the (gushy) encore to the memory of (Kurt Cobain).
All in all, the evening, despite certain caveats, was a musical (marshmallow), and made a convincing (snore), if nothing else.
Rich. Absulutely rich.
please replace previous version
Chamber Concert Culminates In Applause, Bows
Felix Mendelssohn’s Octet is not the freshest work to sully our ears in recent times, comprising self-evidently a well-worn chestnut, but one assumes it was fresh when it was written. Such, if any, seemed to be the contention of the gonzo musicians who performed with nearly a googol of verve last evening at the Scooter Laphroaig Performing Arts Center. Whether this verve was stylistically incontinent, this critic is not yet prepared to offer judgement.
If the musicians seemed a bit tellurian at the first, perhaps this was due to the bowstrokes of Dragovich, reminiscent more of black-truffle rugelach than a Quidditch match. This critic, let me tell you, will be none too eager to hear the music of Luigi Russolo again, as his pulsed liquifaction of dissonance seems merely a wit-sucking rehash of Cesar Cui. But, I don’t wish to be critical. Tender moments burbled, and the able musicians were not entirely lichen-brained.
The concert proceeded onwards, after its first piece, to the second, and to the rhythmic balestras of the duo pianists in Luc’s Dessus-de-lit. Though their accuracy was not always utterly tent-on-top of the tentpoles, their esprit and yeux somewhat compensated. Mr. Riggle seemed to approach the 88 keys with a bit more whey than why, but this was more than grounded by Mr. L’an-Dernier’s aggressive, Kobe beef-like sensibilities.
However, all Gallic superciliousness was forgotten in the welcomed aftermath of intermission, when, refreshed, the musicians strutted Germanically back onstage to somewhat deserved applause to play the third and final previously mentioned work. Dragovich soared through the familiar work with rivulets of virtuosic flurry, which reminded us of none more than the youthful Doug Flutie. Other players also sought open listeners with aplomb, particularly Candy Can’Du, whose vibrato was not unlike her wind-blown afro. The Scherzo especially oozed with humor and bon mots, yet no one was laughing, least of all this listener, when the players dedicated the mushy-as-applesauce encore to the memory of Don Knotts.
All in all, the evening, despite certain caveats, was a musical achievement, and made a convincing hot-tub-cleaning soundrack, if nothing else.
I must thank you all for taking the time to fill in and thereby fulfill the MadLibs Review. If the Snuffalupagus McCloud Performing Arts Center does not exist yet, it should; some wealthy person should change their name and endow it, ASAP. Not to mention Fozzie MacDougal, Gonzo Cuchulainn… oh thank you all once again!
if i ever get rich, the snuffalupagus mccloud performing arts center will be my first project 😛
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