Earworm of the Day: "Ombra mai fu" by G.- F. Händel.

It's not merely an earworm, it's a timely reminder. On this date in 1738, Serse, the opera from which this aria is taken, was first performed in London, at the King's Theatre, Haymarket. It was not well received at the time. Some critics and historians say it was because the audience was disinclined to appreciate comic elements in a serious opera. I can't argue one way or the other on that, but the love story is darned convoluted... even moreso than it had been in Xerxes' real life (yes, that Xerxes, sort of). But then, that was how a LOT of operas in the 18th century were.

But never mind all that. I'm going to be watching the entire opera, to make sure the earworm works its way out of my head. Also, because I can spend all day listening to just about anything by George Frideric Handel, because he was that awesome a composer.


Even the cats in our house like to listen to Handel. If they can't have Mozart.

Earworm of the Day: The Little Fugue

Probably not a version most people think of first, but the radio was playing a nice enough woodwind version of Bach's "Little" Fugue in G minor, and my mind wandered overnight into this territory.

You're probably somewhat familiar with this group, whether you realize it or not. The Swingle Singers have been performing, in one form or another, for nearly six decades. They come cropping up in my head at night rather too often for comfort, though.

I blame the sixties.

Earworm of the Day: Por Una Cabeza

It usually takes two to tango, but only one to get an earworm.

This is probably the single most overplayed tune for tango in show biz today (on those dance shows, in the background on TV series, and in quite a few film), which is why it can worm its way into a person's subconscious. Sometimes the show is worth seeing, sometimes not so much (although Colin Firth almost rescued this one).

In the contest for a person's sanity, though, the song always wins anyway, at minimum by a head.

Earworm of the Day: Liebesfreud

I once heard a busker playing this in one of the long corridors of Ohare International Airport, on a December night when almost everybody else had been long gone home in the deep cold. I hoped, for his sake, he wasn't playing it ironically. For me, it was a bittersweet reminder of my own (now voluntary) unitary state.

He finished playing the tune just as I passed his position, so I thanked him for the delightful transport, and dropped what little cash I could afford to give him into his case. He nodded. Neither of us was particularly chatty.

When I walked away from him, he began to play something sounding suspiciously like this. Considering the temperature outside the airport terminal was somewhere south of zero degrees Fahrenheit, I was fairly certain that was a deliberately ironic choice.