Uncle Adolf’s table talk, 65

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Night of 13th-14th January 1942

The composer Bruckner—Brahms at his height—Wagner and Goring—Great architects—Talent must be encouraged.
 
After a hearing of Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony: This work is based on popular airs of upper Austria. They’re not textually reproduced, but repeatedly I recognise in passing Tyrolean dances of my youth. It’s wonderful what he managed to get out of that folklore. As it happened, it’s a priest to whom we must give the credit for having protected this great master. The Bishop of Linz used to sit in his cathedral for hours at a time, listening to Bruckner play the organ. He was the greatest organist of his day.

One can imagine this obscure peasant’s arrival in Vienna, amidst an effete society. One of Bruckner’s opinions of Brahms was published in a newspaper recently, and further increased the sympathy I felt for him: “Brahms’s music is very beautiful, but I prefer my own.” There you have the self-awareness, full both of humility and of pride, such as a peasant can feel, in all simplicity, when he is inspired by a true conviction. The critic Hanslick depicted Bruckner’s life in Vienna as a real hell for him. When the moment came when it was no longer possible to ignore his work, he was covered with decorations and overwhelmed with honours. What did all that mean to him? Wouldn’t it have been better not to have misunderstood him so long?

Jewry had raised Brahms to the pinnacle. He was lionised in the salons and was a pianist of theatrical gestures. He exploited effects of the hands, effects of the beard and hair. Compared with him, Bruckner was a man put out of countenance, an abashed man.

Wagner also had the feeling for gesture, but with him it was innate. Wagner was a man of the Renaissance—like Goring in a certain aspect (and it would be silly to blame him).

There is nothing crueller than to live in a milieu that has no understanding for a work already achieved or in process of gestation. When I think of a man like Schiller or Mozart! Mozart who was flung, nobody knows where, into a communal grave… What ignominy!

If I hadn’t been there to prevent it, I believe the same thing would have happened to Troost. That man revolutionised the art of building. Perhaps it would have taken a few years—and he’d have died without anyone having the slightest idea of his genius. When I got to know him, he was depressed, embittered, disgusted with life. It often happens that architects are hyper-sensitive people. Think merely of Hansen, who was the most richly gifted of the architects of Vienna. And Hasenauer? The critics had attacked him so savagely that he committed suicide before his great work was finished—and yet the Vienna opera-house, so marvellously beautiful, puts the Paris Opera into the shade. To know that one is capable of doing things that nobody else can do—and to have no possibility of giving proof of it!

It seems that people should make sacrifices for their great men as a matter of course. A nation’s only true fortune is its great men. A great man is worth a lot more than a thousand million in the State’s coffers. A man who’s privileged to be the Head of a country couldn’t make a better use of his power than to put it at the service of talent. If only the Party will regard it as its main duty to discover and encourage the talents! It’s the great men who express a nation’s soul.

Published in: on September 13, 2015 at 10:26 pm  Comments Off on Uncle Adolf’s table talk, 65  

Uncle Adolf’s table talk, 135

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30th May 1942, midday

The rôle of Vienna—Death of Mozart—Artists should be supported before they die!
 

It should be the task of any reasonable culture policy to discover talent early, to encourage and foster it, and so give it the opportunity of reaching its highest fruition for the benefit of both the present and posterity.

During the last few centuries, the Viennese, who always used to set such store by the cultural standards of their city, have neglected this most important principle of cultural policy in an almost insanely irresponsible fashion. For example, they actually allowed a genius like Mozart to starve. He was even buried in a pauper’s grave, they say, and now no one knows where he lies. Like him, too, Bruckner and Haydn would have been allowed to die of hunger, if they had not found patrons in the Bishop of Linz and the Prince von Esterhazy respectively.

These examples show that the Viennese, like the people of Munich, owe their accumulation of artistic wealth solely to their rulers. Between the Viennese and the people of Munich, however, there is this vital difference, that the latter do show a measure of appreciation to their living artists, while the former wait until an artist has been dead for perhaps centuries and has acquired an international reputation before giving their approval.

Our own cultural policy can learn a lesson from this. It is, that artists who do good work must be assured of recognition in goodtime. It is for this reason that I have caused to be organised the arts exhibition in the House of German Art in Munich, and not merely because I wished to give the already famous a chance to exhibit, where their works will be seen by the whole world. By far the most important object of this exhibition is to seek out the best of German creative art.

Published in: on July 20, 2015 at 11:44 am  Comments Off on Uncle Adolf’s table talk, 135  
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Uncle Adolf’s table talk, 188

the-real-hitler

24th June 1943, evening

The vibrant pulse of Berlin—Vienna the home of music— Mozart—Slav blood and German blood—Beethoven—For and against Vienna—The new capital of the Reich—A remark of Treitschke.
 

In Berlin, I think, people work harder than anywhere else. I know of no other city in which it would have been possible to complete the construction of the Reich Chancellery in nine months. The Berlin workman is unique as a swift and efficient craftsman. There is nothing to touch him in Munich or Vienna, where the infusion of foreign blood—Polish, Czech, Slav, Italian—still has an influence.

When one speaks of Vienna and music and proclaims Vienna to be the most musical city in the world, one must not forget that at the time of our great composers, Vienna was the Imperial city. She was an attraction for the whole world, and was thus the city which offered artists the greatest scope and opportunity. In spite of this, how shabbily the musicians were treated there! It is not true that either Beethoven or Haydn had any success there during their lifetime. Mozart’s Don Juan was a failure there.

Why then did Mozart go to Vienna? Simply because he hoped to get a pension from the Emperor, which he never obtained. Mozart’s family, it has been established, came from Augsburg; he was therefore not an Austrian but a Swabian. The whole blossoming of our music in Vienna is not due to the town; such things do not spring from their environment, but from the genius of a race.

Really creative music is composed partly of inspiration and partly of a sense of composition. The inspiration is of Slavonic origin, the art of composition is of Germanic. It is when these two mingle in one man that the master of genius appears. In Bach’s music it is the composition which is marvellous, and he certainly had no drop of Slav blood in his veins. As regards Beethoven, on the other hand, one glance at his head shows that he comes of a different race. It is not pure chance that the British have never produced a composer of genius; it is because they are a pure Germanic race.

Do not for a moment imagine that I am hostile to Vienna. I criticise with equal vigour everything in Berlin which displeases me. My task is a far greater one, and I do not think in terms of Vienna or Berlin.

It is perhaps a blessing in disguise that I was for so long a Stateless person; for it has taught me the tremendous value of a unified Germany.

Treitschke once said: “Germany has cities, but she possesses no capital.” To that I will add that she must, and she shall, have one. I shall take care that no town in the Reich can rival the capital.

I have examined certain projects for Vienna, but they demand a financial backing from the Reich which I do not consider should be accorded to any city but the capital of the Reich.

Any other decision would be wrong. Vienna must, of course, be cleaned up and cleared of slums; and this will be done. I have already cleared the Jews out of the city, but I should like to see the Czechs go, too. Whatever new construction may be undertaken in Vienna, it would be folly for her to try to surpass the existing glorious monuments of the Imperial City.

_____________________________

Consider obtaining a copy of the complete notes
published by Ostara Publications.

Christmas Eve

I have a lot to say about Christianity. Believe me. Decades of my life were destroyed as a result of a focalized abuse perpetrated by my father—a fanatic Catholic—when I was a minor. His verbal abuse and slapping on my face, together with his eschatological doctrine of eternal damnation, broke my adolescent heart. Since as a young person nobody helped me, I was completely unable to process the trauma.

At seventeen I constantly had themes from Mozart’s Requiem stuck in my head in the Catholic school Zumárraga, an ear worm synchronized with the religious metamorphosis that was taking place in my mind: the change from the stage of perceiving God as the loving father of my St. Francis to the terrible God of the Requiem—my introjected Father.

Confutatis maledictis
Flammis acribus addictis
Sed tu bonus fac benigne
Ne perenni cremer igne.

My fear of eternal damnation, what Alice Miller calls “the fighting with the parental introjects,” i.e., the fighting against our inner daddy, reached truly paranoid, medieval levels of obsessive fear, as I recount in my book Hojas Susurrantes (Whispering Leaves). It’s a miracle that, unlike millions of adolescents who have been abused in this infernal way at home, I didn’t lose my mind…

Nevertheless, since the Jews have been targeting Christmas, I won’t criticize my parents’ religion in Christmas Eve. I better copy and paste part of a non-autobiographical chapter of Whispering Leaves that I used to source a couple of online encyclopedias. Pay special attention to the paragraph that starts with the words: “Something completely lost to the modern mind is that…” which, in a nutshell, summarizes my views on why Christianity conquered the souls of the ancient Romans.

The following excerpts relate to the positive side of the religion of my family: how the Church vehemently combated abortion and infanticide among the white people. Let’s remember that infanticidal practices run amok in the Classical World accelerated the fall of the Roman Empire, just as today’s millions of abortions represent a pivotal role in the demographic winter for the white people and the consequent demise of Western civilization.

Relying heavily on Larry S. Milner’s treatise on infanticide, in 2008 I wrote:

Note of August 2, 2018: Several paragraphs that used to be here have been merged within: this post

Christmas postscript

While the wicked are confounded,
doomed to flames of woe unbounded
yet, good Lord, in grace complying,
rescue me from fires undying!





The above is the English translation of the Latin lines.

However disgusting I find to quote a kike, I believe that psychologist Robert Godwin hit a nail. The unconscious message of Christianity is that, when through sacrificial offerings we murder or even torture our innocent son—as was done throughout the Ancient World—, we murder God; and that the crucifixion of Jesus was meant to be the last human sacrifice, with Jesus acting on behalf of our own murdered innocence.

This is the key to understand why a Judaic-inspired cult conquered the Roman Empire. Therefore, and even when I consider myself a spiritual martyr of such religion, I cannot share the views of those nationalists who repudiate every single legacy of such faith. However abominable the doctrine of hell is, what I said above is crucial for a radical—denoting or relating to the roots—understanding of the origins of the religion of our parents.

P.S. of 15 April 2012

See references & comments below.

Are white nationalists cultural niggers?

or:

Does it take an Iranian immigrant to the States to promote Westerners to realize this heritage?

Yesterday Greg Johnson did not let a comment of mine pass through in the comments section of an article titled “White Rock,” id est, rock for the white people. Well, I was not the author of that comment. I limited myself to copy and paste an article originally titled “Being White and Listening to ‘White Power’ Music” by Iranian for Aryans, published in 2004 but probably written in 2002:


Twice in recent weeks, Mr. Kevin Alfred Strom has inundated his American Dissident Voices listeners with White Power (WP) or Resistance Music. This is being touted as a new pro-White media, an “alternative” to Jewish anti-White Music.

Well, fellow Westerners of a common heritage—if there are any out there!—WP music is not and should not be thought as “White Music.” WP music has its roots in Rock ‘n’ Roll which in turn is a Jewish cacophony of ugly and bestial noise. Jazz, and Rock ‘n’ Roll are Jewish to the core, and WP music takes up these same tunes, thumps, and bangs and adds “pro-White” lyrics to it, trying to make a heap of dung into something worth fighting for. There is nothing beautiful about WP music.

If we need to get back to our European (and essentially Nordic, Aryan) culture, then we need to re-learn the past musical traditions. We need to re-invoke the Trinity: Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, in addition to others. These composers should not remain mere names to Whites who want to re-instill their lost heritage! These are names which should send shivers down one’s spine, which should make a man develop a feeling of mysterious, religious zeal and awe upon hearing just the names of these Titans.

Bach is the Soul of the West, his Mass in B-minor is a call to a Religious Awe felt for, traditionally, the God of the West.

Mozart is the earthly manifestation of the Divine Spirit, the joie de vivre, the music of sprightly Imps.

Beethoven is not a St. Bernard but the Overman of the West, the Eternal Fighter and Conqueror, the healthy and robust warrior of the Spirit of the Occident, a veritable Conan.

How can one—EVER!—listen to anything else when we still have this part of our heritage available to us and not outlawed? How can Mr. Strom play WP music when there are the Masters? Does it take an Iranian immigrant to the States to promote Westerners to realize this heritage? I listen to European Music day-in-day-out! It is my bread and butter! How can one listen to Dresden or Screwdriver with their numerous tattoos, shaved heads, and Nazi t-shirts when there is a plethora of composers that awaits discovery? How many of our people know about Palestrina, Buxtehude, and Purcell? What about Verdi, Leoncavallo, and Mascagni? May the Gods look favorably upon us, since culturally, we’re even inferior to “niggers.” At least blacks have their drum beats and their go-go music, while we—literally—ape them and if not, our “enlightened” White constituency and leaders, for the most part, fill this lack of true Western musical heritage with WP music. We know more about Max Resist than we do about Mussorgsky!

Be that as it may, let fairness reign. I admire the artwork on Mr. Strom’s webpage immensely. He has a great taste in the Romantic Art (Pre-Raphaelites, Bougeureau, et al.), but to serve two gods—one of Europe and the other of WP music—is, to me, unacceptable.

I, an Iranian by blood and birth, who fell in love with the majesty and creative ability bordering on the cosmic, of Nordic Man, had European Music as the impetus, the building-block, the diving-board for the development of a total, and uncompromising love for the White Race. Bluntly, I started loving the White Race mainly for its Musical creations. Ever since I started listening to Chopin and Bach back when I was twelve, I knew that there was something transcendental about this music, and hence, its creators. With the help of the correct books and personal, empirical interactions amongst blacks and other non-Whites, I developed a Weltanschauung that promotes the Goose that lays the Golden Egg. Readers, you know of what I speak.

Folks, if you call yourselves White, and care about your White heritage in more than just words, then get rid of the skinhead music, nay, ritually burn the WP music CDs, go to your public library, and soak up the European basic fare, such as the Bach Brandenburg concerti, Chopin etudes, Vivaldi concerti, Mozart symphonies, etc. Do it! We cannot afford to be cultural niggers. For no better reason, there is Heaven to be found in European Music. One cannot genuflect to two gods: it’s either Haydn or Hell!

*   *   *

In “A Response to My Critics and Why Do I Care About Aryans?”, Iranian for Aryans wrote:

I thank the few people who came to my support in this music debate concerning WP music and the traditional music of the West. I do not want to argue, but let me just reiterate that once one has listened to, understood, and loved the Masters, one can’t invoke Metallica, the Beatles or WP music. (Sorry, but Metallica drum beats point to their African heritage, and also, heavy metal’s spirit is one of dissolution, and consequently, was very much promoted by Jews.) This is a dichotomy that can’t exist in my mind.

Published in: on December 1, 2011 at 12:31 am  Comments (1)  
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