ahhh, bachhh!

Bach isn’t merely a musical commodity—he’s a religion. Adored by intellectual virgins, Bach’s music is a pseudo-substitute for sex. It’s purity grips minds which are, by nature, too rarified for the trappings of proper religion. Bach’s canon should be admired, sung, played, and discussed with an expression of ineluctable piety.

It’s possible to like Bach and no one else—it’s even likely. In spite of the clinical and demanding nature of his music, it remains tremendously popular. If you meet a real Bach groupie, you make a lasting impression by fainting—or, at least, feigning unending rapture. Any suggestion that you can take Bach or leave him will earn you a sullied reputation, possibly scorn.

Fortunately, a single sincere gasp of, “Ahhh, Bachhh!” nets you high marks for taste and discrimination. We realise that this ploy is rather thin, but if you stick to this one remark and vary your inflection, you can cover all bases and navigate a safe course in the treacherous waters inhabited by aficionados.

from bluff your way in music, by russell robinson and peter gammond (1985)