Beethoven's Masterly Melodies

Alex Ross is hosting a faux-commercial featuring the Masters of 12-Tone Music on his blog. It was a collaberation between long-time Cleveland radio host Robert Conrad and the Clevland Orchestra conductor Matthias Bamert. It's worth a listen, although I didn't find it particularly funny. I realize that it's just a parody, and I shouldn't take it so personally, but sometimes that's easier said than done.

It made me think about a similar commercial one could make for Beethoven's greatest hits, featuring the monotone melody of the second movement of the seventh, the four-note melody of the violin concerto, the kitchiness of Wellington's Victory, the minute of emphatic C-major chords that closes the fifth, the "gloriously arching melody" of the finale of the ninth, and so on. It's all about context. If you take snippets of Second Viennese School music out of context, it sounds ridiculous, but so does Beethoven.

Which brings me to one of my biggest frustrations. There's a sentiment I hear all the time, expressed rather succinctly as a reader posting in Artsjournal's Critical Conversations series back in the summer of '04:

In answer to ArtsJournal.Com's apparently serious, and thus pretentious question "[W]hether or not it is still possible for a Big Idea to animate classical music" may I offer the following as a possibilty: Melody.........singable, danceable, hummable, organ-grindable, uplifting, happiness-making, inspiring, lasting and eternal Melody.

I'll never understand why John McBaine and others are so hard on Beethoven. His melodies were across the board terrible. Most of his symphonies only have one decent melody the whole time. These aren't miniatures; in the entire thirty-five minutes of the fifth symphony, for example, or the fifty minutes of the third, there's just one good melody each. Quite the opposite of "lasting and eternal Melody." What about his greatest accomplishment, the ninth? The first movement has no discernible melody (going by the organ-grinder test); the second's melody is too hurried and disjointed to hum; the third movement eventually settles in to a nice melody, but it takes a couple of variations to finally get there; and the fourth features a melody that would embarrass someone writing songs for the beer hall. If one were to apply a red marker to clean up the bad melodies in Beethoven's ninth, the result would last about six minutes. I for one am very happy, knowing that Beethoven cared little enough about melody to write his entire opera the way he did.








I hadn't been planning to go to Schoenberg's 1st Chamber symphony/Beethoven's 9th this week at the BSO, but now I'm all fired up and ready to get my tickets.

Burn your Books (and Videos) Before it's too Late!

I've been following the nonsense in Colorado about the teacher being punished for showing a few minutes of Faust in her class. I didn't put it together until just now, but I had a strangely similar experience with a different version of the legend.

Last year, I got rush tickets for a BSO performance of Der Fliegende Höllander at Symphony Hall. Of course, that means having almost three hours to kill between getting the tickets at 5:00 and the 8:00 performance. First things first, I went to get an inexpensive dinner. I sat down at the restaurant with the copy of Thomas Mann's Doktor Faustus I brought along.

A man came by my table and asked me what I was reading. I told him. He asked to look at the cover.

"Faustus? That's the devils book, right?" he asked me.

He opened the front flap and read the description. "The devils book! I'm not going to touch this. Read this book, and the devil will take you down to hell. That Faustus, he's a bad man!" He walked back over to his table and continued preaching to the people he was with, about how only Jesus can defeat the devil.

I quietly continued eating my meal as quickly as possible, trying to ignore this guy. But I can only take so much of his condemnation and poor literary analysis.

So, I told him that the Faustus legend is a cautionary tale against shortcuts, and if anything, it should be promoted. The whole point is that Faustus tries to get all his knolwedge through the deal with the devil, isn't happy, and is damned to boot. Anybody who reads it will realize that it was a bad thing he did, and not do it themselves.

Of course, Mann's novel isn't really about Faustus; it's an allegory about Nazism in Germany, and doesn't really have anything to do with the religious issues this guy is talking about.

And, finally, as a Jew, I do not accept Jesus as Christ my savior, so in his mind, I'm damned anyway.

Evidently, he thinks I didn't understand what he was saying, because he repeated his speech and pacing around until he went into the (women's) bathroom. I hurried through the rest of my meal, cleared my table, and mentioned to one of the employees that they shouldn't let that guy harrass their customers or else they'll lose business.

I have the same reaction with this current controversy: the angry parents are so culturally illiterate that they don't realize that they're protesting what is, at its core, a very Christian story. I just hope they never run into Medieval mystery plays depicting Satan's banishment from heaven.

Folk sounds, both Eastern and Lower-Eastern

I had only a week left in China, that night I was sitting at the center of Xian, killing time before heading off to the train station for the overnight train to Chengdu. I was across the rotary from the illuminated bell tower. There was a busker was playing folk songs on an erhu. At that point, I wished I had some sort of sound recorder. I reflected on all the sounds I'd wanted to record during my time in China, like the bizarre music at the underground McDonalds in Jinan's Quancheng Square or the KFC across from the Bank of China in Wuxi, the cries of the pushcart vendors, and the opera teacher who lived in the flat below me in Jinan.

I had particular regrets about one evening in Nanjing. My friend Cissy took me to Jiming Si when I visited for the weekend. We arrived shortly before they closed the gates for the evening. We did the normal things you do at a Chinese monestary. We climbed to the top of the pagoda (which has the beautiful view of the city walls and the Yangtze River pictured right). As we were about to leave, about thirty monks filed into the main temple in the complex. I suggested to Cissy that we wait around and see what they would do. They lined up in rows. One stepped aside and started hitting a bell. The rest started chanting. It reminded me a bit of Medieval organum, but it was a totally new sound that I had never heard before.

From that day on, I searched tirelessly for a recording of this sort of Buddhist chant, to no avail. The Buddhist recordings I was able to find were more influenced by Western new age music than anything from traditional Buddhist liturgy. (The theory goes that Buddhism has new-age appeal in America, so accordingly anything with new-age influence will sell to tourists, authenticity be damned.) When I was in Xian -- the same day that I found that busker -- I found what I was looking for. One of the gift shops inside of Dayan Ta was playing that music -- not the same chant, I'm sure, but the same kind of music. I asked them which CD it was, and the clerk apologized, explaining that it wasn't for sale. They only had one copy, but they recommended that I buy one of the many other CD's of Buddhist chant. I sampled them, and they were all wrong. That was the only time I ever pulled the "I'm an American, your feeble currency has no value to me!" trick the entire time I was gone. For the amount of money I paid them, I could have gotten one copy of every CD they had. It was fine; I finally got my chant.

Of course, that was just one sound -- as for the rest, they won't be recovered. Perhaps one day I'll return to China with the sound recorder and capture all those sounds. Maybe I'll even take a page from Tan Dun and The Map and try to seek out local folk musics.

The New York Tenament Museum has a wonderful project right now that focuses on the recorded sounds and folk music of the very diverse Lower East Side. You can make your own musique concrète with sounds from the city. They're working on features that will allow you to save your pieces and listen to others', and upload your own sounds if you have any. Hear the project first-hand at Folksongs for the Fivepoints.

Is WGBH following Copland's mandate?

WGBH is currently airing self-congratulatory spots, playing clips of an address Aaron Copland gave on its inaugural broadcast. To paraphrase, Copland says that 'GBH should particularly focus on music of our own time and place, to the point that contemporary American music is as well known as that of the classical masters. It's great talk, and I absolutely agree with the sentiment, but it made me consider: does WGBH actually do that?

The live BSO broadcasts certainly help, as they have first crack at many BSO commissions and other contemporary pieces selected by Levine. On Thanksgiving and July 4, they focus on American music. There's also the year-end "eulogy" program dedicated to musicians and composers who passed away that always includes a lot of contemporary music.

However, over the course of the week, it doesn't seem that they play all that much in the way of truly contemporary music. (Don't get me wrong; their programing is certainly far superior to WCRB's small, confined box.) For a very obvious example, last Wednesday was the birthday of Worcester's own John Adams. Adams seems to perfectly fit the mold that Copland described, as a composer of this time and place. However, WGBH chose not to play any of his music. (It's certainly not for lack of available recordings.) WHRB, on the other hand, has two pieces by Adams programmed for this past month, in addition to many other contemporary composers, equally famous and obscure.

In fairness, I should point out their wonderful site devoted to American music, Art of the States. And, again, I do think WGBH has good programming on the balance. However, instead of highlighting WGBH's good qualities, Aaron Copland reminds us that surely WGBH could do more.

The Verdi of Egypt

Sheikh Sayyed Darweesh (1892-1923) is credited with bringing Egyptian music into the 20th century and was the first to incorporate European instruments and techniques into Arabic music. He was extremely prolific, composing more than 100 songs, thirty musicals, and eleven adwar (a long-form, multi-sectioned song with complex melodies), all in the last seven years of his short life.

Darweesh fused many different influences in his music: qur'anic chant, Italian opera, Syrian Orthodox chant, and traditional Arabic singing. He was so successful a composer that many of his pieces are taken to be traditional anonymous works. He once called himself "Egypt's Verdi," a description that fits on many levels. Like Verdi, Darweesh lived through political upheaval and nationalism. His music struck a chord with the Egyptian people of all stations. In 1979, his song Biladi (my homeland) was chosen as the national anthem of Egypt.

Darweesh's music was the focus of a concert with the Chicago Classical Oriental Ensemble, in promotion of their new CD "Soul of a People." In addition to a violin, a cello, and two vocalists (including guest artist Youssef Kassab), the ensemble featured an 'ud (a type of lute), a qanun (a type or lyre), and a riqq (a type of tambourine).

The two highlights of the program for me were Ya Nas Ana Mut fi Hubbi and Doulab Rast. The first featured an extended 'ud solo by Kareem Roustom, who is also the ensemble's leader. Doulab Rast featured solos by Hicham Chami on the qanun and Albert Agha on vocals.

The tour, which also stopped in New York and Washington, continues in Ann Arbor (2/21), Chicago (2/26), Seattle (2/28), and LA (3/2). More information is available at World Music Central.

Egyptian Classical Music at Sanders Theater

Anyone who happened to hear The World tonight got a chance to hear about the Chicago Clasical Oriental Ensemble, which is currently touring with the music of pivotal Egyptian composer Sheikh Sayyed Darweesh. As Hicham Chami, the ensmble's executive director, explained:

He's seen as being the father of Arabic music, he's really someone who bridged both worlds, the oriental world and the western one, by doing things like composing for a piano and adding a piano to Arabic music and using harmony, all kind of things that were never done before.

The American tour comes to Cambridge's Sanders Theater Saturday Night at 8:00. More information on the tour is available at World Music Central.

Ahab defeats Whale?

Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

Thus ends the body of Moby-Dick. The sea is indifferent to the carnage that just occurred, as the Pequod sank and everyone (save the narrator) drowned. Save the strange quirk of fate that led the Rachel by the vortex where Ishmael was floating. The ending is a dark one, especially because the whale's victory is total. When the White Whale finally snaps the line and frees itself from the ship, Ahab feels it directly, asking "What breaks in me?"

It wasn't always this way, however. According to Steve Olsen-Smith and Melville's Marginalia Online,

The recovered notation shows that at some early point in the composition of Moby-Dick Melville considered a narrative plot in which the crew of the Pequod (or some ship of an earlier name) would get their whale—an especially dangerous whale even at this early stage, since it manages to sink their ship before it is slain.

The fascinating web site publishes the marginal notes that Melville wrote in an important source, Thomas Beale's The Natural History of the Sperm Whale. It's hard to imagine that so bleak an ending was once much more ambivalent.

The site is worth a look. It's a rare chance to read over Melville's shoulder and see what he thought about as he thought about what would be come the greatest novel of the 19th century. Unfortunately, it's the closest thing we have to his early drafts, making it all the more worthwhile.

Even more NY-Boston Sharing

I admit it. I was a little disappointed to read that James Levine is sticking around the Met for at least two more years. I was thrilled when Levine was appointed the to replace Sieji Ozawa. Since then, I've been counting down the years until he left the Met behind and spend most of his time in Boston.

I realized from the beginning that for the sake of an artistic turn-around, we'd be compromising some loyalty. Levine wouldn't be wearing Red Sox jerseys to the Hatch Shell on July 4, but we could live with that. (Ozawa's first pitch was a pre-game highlight of a pretty entertaining baseball game last July.) But I was hoping he'd finish his duties in New York and focus more on the BSO.

It'll be some time, I guess, but watch out New York; Levine will be ours alone eventually.

(Yeah, I'm only kidding myself. I guess I'll just have to content myself by getting a ticket to next week's Gurrelieder.)

Off-topic

As one of four American curling fans (though we do outnumber the three remaining hockey fans), I was mildly disappointed to see the US Men's team squander a chance to beat Finland yesterday, but I didn't care too much. After all, the men's team is just going to be outmatched this Olympics, so I wasn't surprised.

But what is going on with the women's team? I've be telling everybody I know about Thursday's match against Sweden since before the Olympics started. After all, it will be a rematch of the '05 World Championship, when Anette Norberg's team scored 6 in the final two ends to hand the Johnson sisters their only loss of the tournament to capture the title.

It'll probably be academic, however, as the women have lost their first three matches (including today's defeat by Japan, on a missed shot in the eleventh end). It's possible that they could get their act together and win out, but at this point it'll be pretty difficult.

(Though don't get me wrong -- I'm going to record Thursday's match and then watch it. While I appreciate that CNBC is devoting 3 hours a night to the sport, the inanity of the coverage is probably doing a better job turning people off from curling than creating new fans. Fast-forwarding through all the BS, the event will probably only take 40 minutes.)

UPDATE:

I'm thrilled that the men managed to pull through the bronze in the end. Good for them. (They showed me!)

The women's Gold Medal draw between Sweden and Switzerland was a classic match for the ages. I hope you got a chance to see it.

Normally a Just Malaise

The plan was a weekend in New York, then get home in time to start my new job Monday morning. I'd make it to hear Spem at MoMA, shop at academy, eat at that Chinese Muslim restaurant out in Brooklyn, and feel very content on my way home. Then the blizzard came.

I fled the city, trying to stay ahead of the record snow. With some trepidation, I put disc 2 of Unjust Malaise on the hi-fi. Perhaps it was the wrong choice. 84 is such a mind-numbing highway, seemingly endlessly bland. Especially when driving its 120 miles alone, it's hard not to stay out of a stupor. The music would surely make it worse, with its own seemingly endless repetitions.

The opposite was true, though. If anything, the music brought the blandness of the driving into focus. It provided motion to what otherwise appeared still. (It's some achievment of the highway that 65 mph seems like not moving at all.) The endless road reached the Mass Pike quickly.

Surprisingly, I've found the antidote to I-84 in Connecticut.