Last Thursday was a pretty awful day. And it was capped off by a hellish commute. But near the end, I was listening to WETA (our local classical station) and the final movement of Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto in E Flat Major came on. Actually, the host had announced it earlier and I was waiting (not patiently for it).

If you heard a few bars of it, you’d immediately recognize it. Haydn will never be considered the greatest composer, but damn if that concerto doesn’t immediately lift one’s spirits. I once heard that Haydn only wrote one concerto in a minor key. He’s not a melancholy guy (even though he wrote some funeral Masses). His love of the music of the common man always comes through (Copland could have learned something from him) and there is something about so much of his music that just makes you feel better.

That finale to the trumpet concerto almost made up for the thirteen odd hours that preceded it.

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