So let me get this straight, you self-serving Gen Z morons… I create a voluminous musical repertoire of over 600 symphonic, chamber, and operatic pieces—in short, the gold standard of classical music—and you have the nerve to reduce my accomplishments to a mere study supplement? Background music from which you extract brain power while preparing for your SATs, MCATs, or whatever dumb acronym?

Well, I've got news for you, buddy. I'm not a means to an end. I'm Mozart, damnit. And my music will be enjoyed for exactly what it is: Transcendent. Auditory. Bliss.

If you have the privilege—the privilege—of hearing my music, you sit. You listen. You feel. You react like the inmates in Shawshank Redemption when Andy played “Duettino-Sull'aria” through the loudspeaker—transfixed, spellbound, and prepared to spend a month in solitary confinement. Yep. A pitch-black hellhole, just to hear a few more of my dulcet notes. What you don't do is distractedly review apoptosis waiting for one of my crowning achievements like The Marriage of Figaro to kick in and restructure your brain chemistry like a dubiously acquired Adderall capsule.

My music isn't something you stomach for the sake of increased brain function. Save that for the cod liver oil.

You do know I'm single-handedly responsible for the phrase child prodigy, right? That's right, I wrote my first piano concerto when I was four. Four years old! What could you play on piano when you were four, loudly until an adult told you to stop?

And my first opera? 12. And this wasn't the sort of two-bit rendition of Andrew Lloyd Weber a middle school concert band stages. This was Grade-A operatic euphoria, resplendent with rich vocal arrangements and a healthy dose of whimsy.

Oh, and since you're busy “studying,” here's a new vocab word to throw in your mix: synesthesia. What does it mean? It means I churned out fully-formed musical masterpieces in my head—without playing a single note. Point is, show a little respect. I'm Mozart, damnit.

Since you're at least intelligent enough to try and leverage my musical genius for personal gain, (or more likely, your mom made you), you've undoubtedly heard of the Mozart effect. My music heals. It decreases pain and enhances relaxation. So do yourself a favor and take a break from your life-hack of my life's work and concentrate on me, not your meaningless exams!

Do you think Leopold II was secretly cramming for a pre-calc test when he commissioned me to orchestrate a piece for his coronation? Was the royal court at Vienna thumbing through flashcards, mindlessly reciting the significance of the Mayflower Compact? No. They were mesmerized. Like Franz Mesmer. Who—you guessed it—I also played for!

Are you seeing the pattern? I was a big-wig. And that's not easy for me to say, as I disdained wigs. I even wrote several compositions for Ben Franklin's weird glass armonica thingy.

Listen, my music undoubtedly makes you smarter. But that's beside the point. Take some initiative and find a different way into Carnegie Mellon than by belittling my legacy to a mental multivitamin. That's not to say I'm trying to discourage you from listening to any music while studying. If you want to turn on some generic Pandora studying station with the hopes of generating a little extra brain juice, that's fine by me. Just don't conflate that with what I do. I'm Mozart, damnit,not some string-quartet cover of Imagine Dragons.

If you're looking for a nice garden-variety classical reco to tune out to, check out my boy Salieri. But if you want a next-level auditory experience—for the sake of next-level auditory experiences—let's talk.


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