At midnight on New Year's Eve, when the Pummerin, the biggest bell of St. Stephen's Cathedral, strikes twelve, the Austrian Radio broadcasts Johann Strauss's An der schönen blauen Donau ("The Blue Danube"), which the Viennese call the Danube Waltz. Naturally, the official national anthem, by Mozart, is also played, but many people here instinctively feel that the Blue Danube is there real anthem. And on New Year's Day millions of people throughout the world wait in front of their television screens for the first encore of the Philharmonic Concert - the Blue Danube... the shimmer of the sun on the water, a light sigh - at last! - and then grateful applause. These can not be merely by chance. Without Johann Strauss the New Year is not the New Year. Vienna, in the 19th century, was one whole dance-floor. For example, there was the Odeon: it had a winter garden with 8000 plants, splendid mirrors, artistic fountains, elegant restaurants and a gigantic ballroom for 15000 people - but no smoking room, as that was not officially permitted. After a year the proprietor went bankrupt - other dance palaces were opened. Lanner, who created the Viennese waltz, and after him Strauss pere, held the title of music director of the Court balls. The elder Strauss was always an Imperialist: his most famous work is the Radetzky March, dedicated to the victor of Custoza. His eldest son, today the Johann Strauss, was born in 1825 and made his debut with his first compositions and his own orchestra in 1844 in Dommayer's Casino in Hietzing. The Viennese now had two composers named Johann Strauss and, as always, relished the competition. The Viennese critic Wiest said, "Goodnight, Lanner! Good evening, father Strauss! Good morning, Strauss the son!" The secret of the Viennese waltz has often been analyzed, never fully fathomed. Is it the gentle melancholy, the touch of erotic voluptuousness, the joy of living (which Strauss had only in his music), the momentary self-oblivion? The King of Dances will still be danced when all other dances have long been forgotten. The big "symphonic" waltzes that Strauss wrote after 1860 often have an introduction and a coda, sometimes almost prophetic, as in the Emperor Waltz (which Strauss wrote in 1888 on the 40th anniversary of the monarch's reign); in the coda is already heard the beginning of the end. But the waltzes coming in between always remain the nucleus. Strauss well understood, better than all other composers, that the Viennese are not happy because something good happens to them, but in spite of everything. Their favorite pastime is grumbling - a cheerful form of complaint that non-Viennese often misunderstand. The Viennese waltz is never really gay. "Do you know any cheerful music? I don't", once said Schubert, for many the embodiment of cheerfulness played correctly, with a delicate ritardando to begin with, the sudden changes of mood, with the almost inaudible pause for effect after the second beat - the Viennese maintain that this must be "felt", it cannot be learnt - the waltz is not easy to dance, especially the reverse turn, it makes superficial conversation impossible, but it remains timelessly modern and outlives all other trends. Many great composers of his time - among them Brahms, Schumann, Verdi, Wagner - admired Johann Strauss. But Strauss was versatile: he also wrote marches, polkas and galops. The polka, apparently from Bohemia despite its Polish name, has a simple quick rhythm: one-two-three-four, one-two-three-rest. The galop, whose origin is unknown, was first popular in Denmark (Hans Christian Lumbye), England and France. It is cheerful, almost cheeky, in two-four times, and never erotic. Therein lies its limitation. After his death Eduard Hanslick, the dreaded Viennese critic, called Johann Strauss "the most original Viennese genius". Perhaps he is more: no one has written more beautiful waltzes. -- Joseph Wechsberg