BUT...the Emperor. Van Cliburn plays it wonderfully. His piano and the orchestra work together as few I've ever heard do, achieving a rare unity, a totality that defies description. The famed transition between the Adagio and the Allegro is so tight it fairly squeaks when it moves. And it does nothing but move. The Adagio itself is simply heartbreaking, in that beautiful, crying way that none but Mozart could really pull off. And of course Beethoven, just this once.

The Allegro is so joyous that it's all I can do to keep from jumping up, tears still wet on my face from the Adagio, and shaking the stiffest....fist.....you ever saw at the world, and defying any three of you punk-ass bitches to say a fucking word about it. It is just brilliant, that's all. If your heart doesn't practically leap out of your chest on hearing it, you need to check your heart, pal. Or have it done for you; most likely, you're all but dead and can't do it yourself.

Mozart plumbs the deepest depths and scales the highest peaks of human emotion, and does it all so effortlessly and routinely it's like watching the guy at Jiffy Lube change your oil. It's so easy for him it almost means nothing. But that, of course, means everything.

When Beethoven gets it, boy, does he get it. He nails it so completely you can feel those rusty iron pins going through your very feet, nailing you to the eternal bloody cross. And with Cliburn on the keys, well, the agony is just that much sweeter.

And to those of you who can't see the connection between all this and my usual rock and roll boogie-woogie persona, well, I pity you.