Saturday, March 26, 2011

The Big Pay-off.

It's Sunday morning again. Wow, that long slow march to the big dirt nap at the end will not be put off. Knowing that makes it easy to understand why people like themselves some religion. No matter what I do all week long Sunday is going to show up whether I like it or not. Then the next Sunday, then the next Sunday after that, until there are finally no more Sundays. If the march must continue relentlessly to its' final conclusion you definitely want a big pay off at the end.  Every Sunday I like to post a little spiritual, or spiritual feeling, music as a nod to my desire for that pay-off. Like a winning lottery ticket, or a night with Pam Anderson, knowing it is not likely to happen doesn't change the fact that you would like it to happen. Well this Sunday we're going all in on the payoff. Don't listen to the music though until you let me blabber. We are modern folk in need of context. If  you get "it" you'll be all "Beethoven? Sex? What to choose? What to choose?" If you don't get it... well I don't know... sorry?



So back in the late 18th century classical music had run it's coarse. There was nothing new under the sun. Short of cutting the music loose from it's tonal base (Hello Wagner) everything had been done and done well. I don't know if Beethoven wrote his 9th symphony as a punctuation mark on the whole period, ( or on music in general, it's that good) but that's the way it plays.



Symphonies are in sonata form, (which means music, as opposed to voice i.e. no singing). Like I said, up until the 9th everything had been done. This is only the last movement of 4 (if you have an hour read my little tips for listening then go all in) but even at the beginning of this movement you can hear the music struggling with form. It's muddy, straining at it's tonal base. The strings are tentative, themes are lost or not even there. It dithers. It strains. This sucks! It seems like Beethoven has no place to go. What the hell is he going to do? Then Bang! the whole things bursts into song. (sonata form remember, voices are a no no. Good thing Beethoven doesn't care about rules). Not just any song either. Beethoven chose Schiller's "Ode to Joy" for his words.

O friends, no more these sounds!
Let us sing more cheerful songs,
more full of joy!
Joy, bright spark of divinity,
Daughter of Elysium,
Fire-inspired we tread
Thy sanctuary.
Thy magic power re-unites
All that custom has divided,
All men become brothers
Under the sway of thy gentle wings.
Whoever has created
An abiding friendship,
Or has won
A true and loving wife,
All who can call at least one soul theirs,
Join in our song of praise;
But any who cannot must creep tearfully
Away from our circle.
All creatures drink of joy
At nature's breast.
Just and unjust
Alike taste of her gift;
She gave us kisses and the fruit of the vine,
A tried friend to the end.
Even the worm can feel contentment,
And the cherub stands before God!
Gladly, like the heavenly bodies
Which He set on their courses
Through the splendor of the firmament;
Thus, brothers, you should run your race,
As a hero going to conquest.
You millions, I embrace you.
This kiss is for all the world!
Brothers, above the starry canopy
There must dwell a loving Father.
Do you fall in worship, you millions?
World, do you know your creator?
Seek him in the heavens;
Above the stars must He dwell.

(Probably better in the original German.)




This is important. It is not "Ode to God" The poem celebrates the unity of man not the mightiness of god. So in one giant blast of music Beethoven finishes off the classical period, turns all tonal music to come into a pale imitation of his talent, ( yes Bono even you) and echos that "All men are created equal" thing from the Declaration of Independence which was written around the same time. I know it seems like I am disproving my own first paragraph, but that paragraph is about wanting a pay-off for life's hard slog. The 9th symphony is all about pay-off. After 80 years of the classical period it is it is nothing but pay-off. It takes you from a birthing train wreak to an orgasmic finish in less than an hour. ( think about it ladies, a whole hour not the usual 2 minutes). It is the moment Dirty Harry plugs Scorpio  times a thousand. If that isn't spiritual I don't know what is.

I'm all in this morning. I've loaded up on some 9th symphony, I've got my Boston Globe, and I'm off to Linda's for a asparagus omelet with swiss cheese and a bucket load of hollandaise sauce. It's a long march, the pay-off is unknown and unknowable, but the trip is worth the price of admission if you are just open to how much greatness is around you.

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