A mathematics with a sarcastic spirit, ‘which was revealed in writing songs of bad taste, who writes bad taste songs’, Tom Lehrr died at the age of 97.
A acclaimed music satir of the Cold War era became one of the American favorite prophets, who was building a creed before retreating from academia. Their dazzle in the piano reflects his love to the tunes of the up-tempo broadway show, which came to a magnificent climax in the chemical elements (at that time 102) in the periodic table in 1959, which is the pirates of a modern major general of Gilbert and Sulivan Operats.
From his time on issues, including pollution and nuclear proliferation, Leharrr left his mark with humor and cutting of Zani rhymes. He was also funny on random subjects including murder, conjugated discord, chemistry and his anorexia for pigeons.
Poisoning pigeons in the park, one of their signatures tunes, a couple enjoys a spring pastime of slaughtering pigeons with a strikein – “It takes just one Smidzen!”
Born on 9 April 1928 in New York in a secular Jewish family, he found the love of music from his mother as well as his mischievous feeling. He entered Harvard at the age of 15, graduated to Magna cum loud with a degree in mathematics after three years, although he fulfilled his music interests. He retired from the entertainment scene to teach mathematics in MIT, Harvard and other places after the 1960s.
In 2022, specificly for a recording artist, he announced on his website that he was abandoning all copyright claims at his work, putting all his songs in public domains.
He had an upfront Sun Jupiter in Aries Square Pluto and Leo Trin in Dhanu Saturn (and Moon) had a fire for Neptune in Dhanu in a grand trin. Furious, inspiring, rarely doubt their abilities. A major Neptune is not only music, but strangely enough mathematical; And in his case Mars was in a demonstration. His Shani Square was Venus mercury and possibly connected his moon – he never married and described himself as a virgin.
Taste of his songs:
“I hurt for the touch of your lips, dear. But a lot for the touch of your whip, dear./ You can pick up the welds
A romantic song becomes a mourning from a lover who has killed his girlfriend and cut his hand as one: “You died at night, I cut it/ I really don’t know why.
[“You know,” he said later, off all the songs I have ever sung, that is the one I’ve had the most requests not to”. ]
After retreating from the music scene, when people asked him to write a new song about the current issues, he compared it to “ask Pompei’s resident for some humorous comments about Lava”.
