Shock Me Amadeus!
The Harvard community got a good laugh this week when The Crimson printed those naughty Mozart lyrics that nobody else--not the New York Times and certainly not The Harvard Gazette--would print. And while many were shocked that one of classical music's greatest composers could pen such lowly lyrics, the observant were well-acquainted with Mozart's penchant for the scatalogical and the mildly pornographic.
Michael Ochs of the Loeb Music Library is claiming he has uncovered new material, but those who have seen Peter Shaffer's acclaimed play "Amadeus" may find those new lyrics slightly familiar. Here then, for the first time ever, are the newly-uncovered "unruly" lyrics, along with the text of Shaffer's famous "naughty Mozart" scene:
The naughty lyrics:
Lick my ass quickly.
Lick me, lick me, lick me.
Lick my ass really well.
Lick it nice and clean.
That's a real pleasure.
Schmear it up with butter.
Beacause licking my ass is my daily pleasure.
Act I, Scene 5, "Amadeus."
Mozart: Hey--hey--what's "Trazom?"
M: T-r-a-z-o-m. What's that mean?
C: How should I know?
M: It's Mozart spelled backwards--shit-wit! If you ever married me, you'd be Constanze Trazom.
C: No, I wouldn't.
M: Yes, you would. Because I'd want everything backwards once I was married. I'd want to lick my wife's arse instead of her face.
C: You're not going to lick anything at this rate...
M: Marry me!
C: Don't be silly.
M: Marry me!
C: Are you serious?
M: Yes!...Answer me this minute: yes or no! Say yes, then I can go home, climb into bed, shit over the mattress and shout "I did it!"
Yes, this is the man who wrote the Jupiter Symphony and The Marriage of Figaro. Do both passages demonstrate a mutual understanding of Mozart's bawdiness, or were the two texts separated at birth? You make the call.
In our relentless effort to track down the elusive "mystery mailer," a reporter conducted a phone interview with Hildegarde S. Freedman, who runs an introduction service for "distinguished intellectuals and professionals." The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. A metallic voice could be heard saying the words, "white male, 21, North House..."
"Oh no, someone is calling from Harvard University," Hildegarde cried to the reporter writing about the hundreds of copies of Harvard Magazine's personal ad column that had been sent to students.
It's like they say: there's no such thing as bad publicity.
While CNN correspondent Peter Arnett slaved away in his hotel room in Baghdad, providing what was then the only--albeit censored--reports from inside Iraq, he obviously hadn't forgotten the fairer pleasures of American academia. If you look carefully at a post-war photograph printed in a recent Boston Globe, you can discern the writing on Arnett's partially-obscured sweatshirt: "Harvard and Radcliffe."
P.S. Arnett's daughter, Elsa, is a graduate of Harvard and currently writes for the Globe.