While my mind is at its best early in the morning–creative, adventurous, and equally ready to work or play–the same is not true of my body. During the hours between 7 and 10 a.m., it is generally, if not frail, distinctly tentative, and not at all prepared for sudden shocks of any kind. I could no more listen to Wagner at 8 a.m., let alone to that alleged music known as rap, than I could drink a tumbler of Scotch or rye. Brahms and Mahler, at that hour, are borderline. Give me Mozart, Vivaldi, or if you must a bit of early Beethoven. Nothing more challenging than that.