At the end of the 18th century, the French Revolution and its profound impact across Europe led to a dramatic shift in people's demands for recreational dance styles. The once-popular minuet and gavotte were phased out due to their rigid and formal styles, making way for the relaxed and natural waltz.
Of course, the waltz faced strong opposition. Groups with different goals and interests criticized this new trend. The church deemed the waltz immoral and uncivilized due to the close embrace between men and women and its rapid spinning movements, denouncing it as heresy. Dance instructors who relied on teaching court dances like the minuet saw the waltz as a threat.
However, the course of history couldn't be reversed. The waltz's simplicity and accessibility, requiring no formal instruction and often learned just by observing, allowed it to spread rapidly among the common people.
Consequently, for a long time, the waltz was condemned as a vulgar, evil, and ugly dance, much like the initial reception of rock and roll and rap music.
That's why Scarlett made that remark - she also understood this history, which allowed her to connect with Anson in the conversation.
Anson immediately understood, drawing out his words meaningfully, "Hmm... me too. Who could refuse the waltz?"
A smile crept onto his lips.
Then -
"Found it!"
Anson's work didn't slow down. He held up a yellowed parchment scroll, his eyes shining as he looked at Scarlett.
"How about it, want to give it a try? Although it's not as joyful and moving as the waltz, old Mr. Tchaikovsky has his own charm."
Scarlett giggled.
Anson stood up with the scroll and sat down at the piano in the room.
It wasn't the luxurious and shiny piano one might imagine, but rather one marked by history. Even with careful maintenance, the traces of time were still visible.
Anson examined it closely, a look of surprise on his face. "It's a player piano!"
In the 1980s, with the rapid development and maturity of electronic technology, it became possible to use integrated circuits and CPUs to control a piano to play automatically.
Of course, true professionals disdained such technologically unsophisticated things, but for amateurs, it was quite novel.
This also explained the sheet music in Jeff's room - the producer probably couldn't play the piano, but a player piano was a different story.
Anson turned his head and saw Scarlett crouching down beside the pile of clutter, flipping through the books he had just searched through. Hearing his voice, Scarlett looked up. Anson raised an eyebrow. "I've never tried a player piano before. Anyone can play it."
Scarlett: "Even without any foundation?"
Anson spread his hands. "Even without any foundation."
Anson had heard about player pianos before, but this was the first time he'd seen one in person. Curiosity piqued, he spent a moment examining it, quickly figuring out how it worked.
"Aha!" he exclaimed. The next moment, the piano's keys began to move, producing a melody with a distinct mechanical quality.
*Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.*
A trained ear would immediately detect the coldness and rigidity in the performance, but Anson was simply fascinated by the novelty of it all.
"Here, this is it, this must be the frenzied part!" he said, his voice filled with excitement.
Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique Symphony" was a masterpiece, intended to depict the horrors, despair, failures, and demise of human life. It was filled with pessimism, negating any optimism or joy in life.
Tchaikovsky deliberately portrayed the hustle and bustle of people's lives in the melody, but he also revealed an eternal truth:
Death is absolute and inevitable, and all the joys of life are fleeting.
The emotions Tchaikovsky expressed reflected the repressed state of the people in the late Tsarist Russia.
Tragically, just six days after completing the "Pathetique Symphony," Tchaikovsky died of cholera. The symphony became his swan song.
But,
This was the kind of frenzy Anson was looking for - a kind of burning, unrestrained passion, a different kind of energy and attitude, resonating with the alcohol and the party tonight.
Scarlett looked up and saw Anson sitting at the piano, swaying like a god of wine, his neatly combed hair gradually becoming disheveled. There was a kind of unrestrained wildness about him that was hard to look away from.
The next thing Scarlett knew, she was standing next to the piano, watching Anson's hands dance across the black and white keys. Even though it was a player piano, it could adjust its performance based on the player's state -
Of course, the adjustments were mechanical, like a computer.
Anson's carefree and unrestrained spirit made Tchaikovsky's music come alive, captivating and stirring.
Scarlett suddenly realized she was standing too close to the piano. The emotions and colors of the melody poured over her like a rainstorm, her heart trembling slightly. She should have kept some distance to appreciate the performance.
But even though she realized this, her feet seemed rooted to the spot.
The performance finally came to an end.
Scarlett's heart was racing. "Play it again," she said.
But Anson had already stood up and stretched. "No, you can't play it again. This is a complete movement. You have to experience it all at once, feel the melody flowing through your fingertips, feel the emotions leaping in the notes. When it's over, it's over. You can't go back."
Walking over to the coffee table, Anson examined the fruit basket and grabbed an apple, taking a big bite.
Then he noticed the large book in Scarlett's hands. He tilted his head and studied it. "Oh, Sophocles."
Scarlett glanced at the cover, her expression a little stiff. "Oh, I just picked it up randomly. I actually have no idea what it's about. Maybe you could give me some pointers?"
It's better to admit you don't know something than to pretend and make a fool of yourself.
A smile flickered in Anson's eyes. "I don't know much either, just a little bit. He was an ancient Greek tragedian. I think there's a reason why ancient Greek tragedies have endured for so long, so I wanted to explore them."
"Unfortunately, I only got through two pages before the sheet music caught my attention."
He chuckled self-deprecatingly, lightening the mood.
Scarlett looked at the book in her hands, then at the piano.
She had no connection to the piano, she was even afraid to get close to it, filled with a sense of awe. But now, she couldn't help but feel curious.
Unconsciously, she took a step forward.
She turned her head and saw encouragement in Anson's eyes. Their gazes met.
(End of Chapter 3)