Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Biography
When I was growing up, I had a great love for classical music. Until my teenage years, it was really the only music to which I had been exposed, with the exception of some very tame older pop music that my parents liked. My favorite composer was Beethoven, but I wasn’t sophisticated enough at the time to really understand why I liked his music.
As I grew older, I began to understand how very little classical music I was familiar with. I was familiar with a decent amount of Beethoven’s music, a few well-known pieces from other composers, but I knew very little of anything obscure or less popular. I decided to set out on a mission to educate myself. My wife has a rather large collection of classical CDs, so I grabbed a few from names I knew and began to listen to them.
Sturgeon’s Law is a principle that has been around for a few decades. In it’s original form, it asserts that “90% of science fiction is crap”. Corollaries to this law state that this is not unusual, for “90% of everything is crap.” I have long believed this to be true, even before I was aware that the principle had been encapsulated in a law. Books, movies, music, magazines, newspapers, art, sculpture - the form of media or art does not matter, 90% of it is guaranteed to be crap.
I was shocked to discover that this law also transcends time - 90% of classical music is also crap. Even within the repertoires of the great composers, far more bad or mediocre music was written than good stuff.
A few things occurred to me. First, I was fascinated that this law appears to apply to all media, regardless of it’s form, intended audience, method of “consumption”, era of creation, etc. Yet another way in which nothing fundamental about mankind ever changes - only the context in which we live changes. Second, I realized that “the classics” are classics because they were the few pieces that rose above the din, to shine and be admired purely on their own merits. To have created one of these pieces results in one’s name being remembered for centuries. To have created multiple pieces of this caliber ensures immortality. To have created none guarantees that like the vast majority of artists and musicians, one’s name will be erased from history as just another face in the crowd.
My favorite musical form has always been the symphony. In the course of my study of classical music, it occurred to me that I was not even familiar with all of the symphonies written by my favorite composer, so I thought that was an excellent thing to explore. I began to listen to Beethoven’s symphonies, in order.
I was shocked at how mediocre the first few were. Even the famous third, Eroica, didn’t do much for me. It felt to me as if Beethoven was learning the ropes, imitating his predecessors - Mozart mostly. He seemed to be learning the symphonic form, which in itself is no small feat. Musically, however, there was nothing that really struck me as great.
Then came the fifth, and everything changed.
As cliche as the fifth has become, it is still one of my favorite pieces of music of all time. Almost everyone is familiar with the theme of the first movement - short-short-short-long - and yet, hardly anyone is familiar with the rest of the piece. The power, the passion, and the majesty of it give me chills just thinking about it. From a musical perspective, it was completely different from what came before, in it’s lack of restraint and it’s emotional depth. From a personal perspective, it almost feels as if some event cracked the floodgates of tradition and restraint in Beethoven’s mind, and this is what rushed forth - anger, then peace, then elation and triumph, put to music in a revolutionary way. The wonder of it is that it is so coherent, so powerful, and so masterfully put together in symphonic form. I feel that it is in this work that Beethoven broke from the past and matured as a composer. I suspect that it is also around this time that he matured as a man. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally.
The sixth, the Pastorale, contains many themes familiar to anyone who grew up watching Looney Tunes cartoons. It consists of five movements, each about an event in country life. It is fun, it is interesting, and it appears to be a playful study of what could be done with his new-found musical freedom and creativity. It is nice music without the depth of the fifth, an yet it still exemplifies a break from the past.
The seventh, my favorite after the fifth, brings back some of the majesty of the fifth, while still being a unique and engaging piece. It is proof that at this point in his life, he’s still got it.
The eight is unremarkable to me, seemingly the creation of someone producing because they are supposed to produce, riding on the laurels of their former greatness.
The ninth and final symphony, arguably the most famous, is fascinating to me. Many people know this symphony as the Ode to Joy, while being unaware that the Ode to Joy comprises only a small fraction of this rather long piece. When writing the ninth, Beethoven was a fairly old man, and was likely completely deaf. You can tell. The majority of the symphony is long-winded, somewhat unstructured, and a bit more atonal than his earlier work. Like the ramblings of an old deaf guy put to music. And then the Ode begins, and it’s like a moment of lucidity, spectacular in what it reveals about the man underneath, both in terms of musical greatness as well as in the passion and zest this man possessed.
Not too long before going through this exercise, I read an essay by Albert Jay Nock called “The Purpose of Biography” (found in The State of the Union: Essays in Social Criticism). In it, Nock asserts that the only legitimate purpose of biography is to help the historian, and that too many biographies are written now simply to “acquaint the public, often with great overemphasis, with a variety of matters which not only are void of historical significance, but also are preeminently none of the public’s business.” That is, the personal details of one’s life are no one’s business but one’s own, and these details have no place in a biography of any quality. Voyeuristic biography intended for the masses is something else entirely. The real purpose of biography is to analyze a person’s life in the context of their times and the contributions they have made to a given field.
To some extent, I felt as if Beethoven’s symphonies were a biography of his life, in many different ways. In Nock’s meaning of biography, by being purely a study in the evolution of music at all scales - within a single composition, in the context of other Beethoven works, and in the context of other great composers. In the modern meaning of biography, in that I feel certain information about his life can be deduced from his compositions. And in yet another way, where the evolution of his mental state, deducible from his music, is a study of the psychology of men, both great and ordinary.
It is entirely possible that I am all wrong about my conclusions, for I do not know the details of Beethoven’s life well enough to say. However, I suspect there is at least a grain of truth to them, and I find it very interesting that such things can be guessed at both by the music itself, and the character of each symphony within the context of the entire set of symphonies.
I come away from it with a profound appreciation of the music and of the man, even greater for the understanding that placing the music in context provides. History comes to us in many forms, not all of it compiled in a book for easy digestion. Great artists appear only rarely, we would do well to identify and appreciate them, both for what their art tells us about them, and for what it tells us about the period in which they lived.
Comments
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I don’t know Beethoven as well some other composers: Mozart, Bach, Vivaldi, Haydn, et al. Browsing a bit, I see I have Beethoven’s 1st, 3rd, 7th, and 9th Symphonies. I’ll try to listen to them with an ear toward what you mentioned. I need to find the 5th.
I used to work with a curmudgeonly older gentleman of immense competence. He disdained to listen to anything written after 1800. I asked him about Beethoven, and he muttered, “a young punk.” I still get a smile when I think of that.
I find that Bach and Mozart appeal to me. I like Bach’s precision. Branderburg No. 3 particularly - if it comes on the radio while I’m driving, I have to pull over or turn it off, especially the allegro. The 1st & 2nd violins’ scudding lightly over the driving regularity of the cello, harpsichord, and bass mesmerize me. (I admit with some chagrin that I can’t pick out the violas.)
Vivaldi’s La Stravaganza and his Concerto for 2 mandolins, the note value progression in Pachelbel’s Canon, Bach’s order and liveliness… I think I’m a baroque junkie.
As to Sturgeon’s Law, remember that much of what was written and still played is intended to be used as an exercise for the student’s fingers. Any “etude” will be no fun to listen to - that’s not what it’s for. That said, I do agree that there’s lots of scat-ical music.
Weetabix | 10/10/2007 09:11 PM CDT -
Baroque is something that it’s taken me a long time to appreciate. It first appeared sterile and terse to me, and that drove me off in favor of more “exciting” composers, like Beethoven.
I’m finding that learning more about the Romantic period has helped me appreciate more what came before and what came after. I have little tolerance for the 2nd class compositions in the baroque period, but now I’ll pop in a Baroque CD voluntarily, which I would do only extremely rarely before. I put on the Tocatta and Fugue in D minor the other night for the kids. Cranked the volume and shook the house. Got a “that was AWESOME, dad” for that one.
My wife has a thing for impressionists, Debussy in particular, which was always just too WEIRD for me to enjoy. I’ve come to appreciate them more as well, both for the music and their place in the continuity of the evolution of music. I draw the line there though. With extremely few exceptions, everything that came after is CRAP.
I do know exactly what you mean about etudes. I played piano for a long time. I have fond memories of Bach Inventions, trying to memorize them well enough that I could play with my eyes closed. They weren’t particularly interesting or moving works, but they were fun for what they were.
American Farmer | 10/11/2007 06:24 AM CDT -
Hmmm methinks that it may possibly be the wrong time to say that I think Warren Zevon is the best composer of all times! In a race with Jimmy Buffett but Buffett managed to survive so Zevon wins on style points.
dbltap | 10/11/2007 06:36 PM CDT
