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Ahh, the soothing melodies of the cello- it can take you anywhere; from
rich, dark, brooding palaces of melancholy, to soaring, trilling currents of
warm seaside air. Close your eyes and listen to the master cellist, pounding
through a barrage of heavy, thick, furious bow strokes to erupt into the
open light of tittering sixteenths.
Ahh, the pleasure that fills your heart as you open the CD player, set
the CD in, close it, and press play... the sweet, gummy anticipation, as
tangible as a rich stew, bubbling in the air, settling around you... the
imperceptible perk of your ear as the first light note groans into
existence... that happy, mournful moan...
Ahh, the scream that erupts from within your shocked, confounded mind
when four cellists suddenly erupt into a popular Metallica ballad! Too late
you realize that you are not listening to any ordinary group of cellists...
indeed, the band you are listening to is Apocalyptica, a group of four
musical nomads who express their diehard adoration for Metallica and a few
other metal bands by transcribing their songs for the cello.
Soon, however, you forget your outrage. You settle back in your chair,
whistle for the maid and have her clean up your spilt brandy, light another
fifty dollar cigar. As the music, raucous yet played with love and practice,
continues, you even allot yourself another snifter of brandy. The music may
be unorthodox... but it's thoroughly enjoyable, and by gosh, who cares
what the neighbors say! You allot yourself several more snifters of brandy
and presently you find yourself dancing joyously to "One", which,
you think to yourself, is definitely the best Metallica song Apocalyptica
plays. The maid enters the room and stares quizzically at you. You waltz
over, buoyant and beaming, and grasp her quickly, pull her towards you, hold
her tight and ignore her frightened attempts at release. For Apocalyptica
is playing, and the mood is right for dancing and adultery.
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