The charm of forgotten classical music

There is something incredibly charming about lesser-known composers. Most of the classical music we hear are masterpieces. Beethoven 9, Mozart 41 endlessly, so boring! How do we value the worth of these if we do not actually know what was the average? Composers were people too. Most of them are now forgotten, but at the time they wrote music, they were performed, they were decent. Before you start worrying about mediocre music making you mediocre, here is a selection of either charming lesser-known composers producing average-quality classical music, or famous composers' early works that are just nice and following formal conventions, and are thus very relaxing. We don't always need the breakthroughs and the progress etc. There is something horribly narrow-minded about only playing attention to the bits where equillibria broke. Something very modernist. Perhaps there is something anthropological about the excess of available music and the need to ground ourselves in the world (Marc Augé said that, I think, I didn't quite understand, he is not easy to read).

Well, I think listening to average classical music helps us ground ourselves. There are unduly forgotten masterpieces, for sure; but also, listening to a few average symphonies or sonatas, perfectly fitting formal conventions, tropes and clichés of the time just gives some overarching sense of contentment and hope that while all the cracks are filled out with much content, eventually, looking from afar, the picture will become clearer and from the mess we can see that which is truly valuable. In an age of excess (call it supermodernity, if you want, Marc Augé definitely did) and so many daily news it is hard to read and theorise our place in history. Same with music history. Maybe time have contracted, but average classical music gives hope that some things will settle and the core of the structure remains visible in the end. On the other hand, saturation with the very best makes us forget that the not-very-best exists as well; and thus opens up space for the rest of us to try and shape the world a bit.

1) Ignacy Jan Panderewsky - Violin Sonata in A minor


So pretty! Completely romantic, quite unprogressive. But who cares? So satisfyingly excited.

2) Mendelssohn - Symphony No. 1 in C minor



Who doesn't like a good symphony No. 1 in C minor. Very clever, for sure -- but it is exactly what it promises. Just a nice little symphony in C minor, nice sonata forms and all. What's wrong with that? Nothing. Don't overthink.

3) Vanhal - Symphony in D minor



Pure heavy metal!

4) Krommer - Clarinet concerto in E-flat major



This is not really mediocre; it is one of the greatest clarinet concertos probably. Still, it is quite simple, quite unrevolutionary, quite formally conservative. You don't really need to strain yourself. It is just pleasing.

5) Crussel - Clarinet concerto in F minor



Similarly, just really nice!

6) Czerny - Symphony in C minor



Another symphony in C minor! What a nice romantic key - sure, it's C, right in the middle, but it is minor, because it is emotional, and we need the big Sturm und Drang crash in the beginning! (And in the end!) The composer of everyone's favourite Leichte technische Etüden is also a prominent creator of forgotten generic romantic music (in the best-intentioned meaning of the word.)

Truly charming.

Things that make me uncomfortable

A list of things that make me uncomfortable:

• People who think we shouldn't die -- they make me uncomfortable because all of it makes a lot of sense yet they feel so wrong; something about something deeply impossible-seeming about finding happy endings for humanity, for any natural trait taken to the extreme results in something un-human; an intuition that humanity is never in equillibrium and is deeply imperfect and inconsistent by nature; maybe for this very reason artifical intelligence alignment is impossible because no world resulting from artificial superintelligence will be human, no matter if it results in paradise or suffering. Humanity ceases to exist in utopia as much as it does in apocalypse -- humanity is not alienated from its inner consciousness by religion or economics: humanity is the alienation, it exists in the gray spaces never discovered by life before. It will always remain dialectic, for any resolution would be its end. Humanity is cognitive dissonance, humanity is the nonrational. It is matter distinguishing itself from matter. But this is the source of all the beauty as well as all the pain; to save humanity but not save pain is meaningless. That is why utopias will never be attained: utopia is the end, the rise of something not-human. At this point the question is: do we want to save humanity, which is saving suffering as much as joy, so it cannot be an utopia, but a continuation of historical dialectic ad infinitum (however, with possibly more and more power from technology that could end it at any time), or end humanity with transcendence. But if the question is transcendence or extinction, then transcendence must be attained by all, and not just the select few, controlling the means of transcendence. Currently the means of transcendence are produced by economies in which the few control these means. That must be ended before humanity can end. Capitalism must be ended or transcendence will be meaningless. With this I proclaim transcendental Marxism and the "bittersweet ending" of humanity. This is the best we can hope for. The universe holds no utopia for humans, for humans are an intermediate state. The next state must be constructed so that it is capable of utopia. But the transition must be egalitarian. Alternatively, there might be a human utopia in the virtual world -- re-enacting histories of past days with meaning, but without the possibility of real suffering or loss. Maybe that is the best we have. Virtual history, virtual humanity. All of this makes me extremely uncomfortable. Also the fuck did I just say.
• some others

On form

Come with me, traveller, for I can take you on a new journey! Or at least… come, walk with me for a bit. I am also a wanderer – see, my cloak is rugged, my coat is patchy –, on to discover! Discover what, exactly? Not so simple! Of course, it is Truth we claim to seek, but is that so? Many greats sook it yet found none, just became charlatans at best or perpetrators of the worst crimes in history at the worst. What claim do you have, not to Truth, but to difference? For surely, if you search still, you must think you know better, you have something new. If you did not, you would stay put – your cloak could be new, your coat immaculate. Tell me, what is it you really seek, under the banner of “Truth”? That banner we share with many, but what lies within will be different in most every case.

Many great people will be confused by their quest, and will be tempted at every corner to retreat, creating all sorts of externalities: fetishes, strawmen, logic-machines, all in their own image, but really, in dialectic with their unadmitted cravings. These minds identify (correctly) that in the playground of ideas the slide will be broken, the climbing-net will be torn and there will be bare nails sticking out of the deck of the wooden pirate-ship. And if one is to argue for the slide, or the climbing-net or the wooden pirate-ship, and as in the argumentation one is to become these (for it is hard not to become that which one argues for – identity comes from difference, and any difference will tend to be assumed as – or mistaken for! – identity), one must become that which is broken, which is torn and which has dangerous spikes pointing out of it. The craving: to become the argument (this a classical liberal, that a neo-Marxist), the problem: the argument’s faults become our own faults; and in reverse: our own uncertainty endangers the project of the argument! As one becomes what they believe, the temptation to forfeit Truth (as in: true intuition of that which follows) for the relief of finality and consistency grows increasing strong.

And so at this point one will renounce oneself – this frail being they recognise themselves to be cannot stand as the champion of Truth, of the Argument (be it a pirate-ship or the labour theory of value). Come forth, true champion, the academic essay! It will feature my name, but the author is from the Platonic realm: they are cold, they are logical, dispassionate, but most importantly: certain. And the alienation of the author is complete: the fetish, the strawman, the logic-machine is born, the insecurity, the uncertainty, and most tragically: true intuition is gone. Both vulnerability and honest reflection are at most distant ancestors to the content of the Piece, which is to stand all challenges and suffer all the wear and tear of critique. The author – saved; the experiment – run, the frailty continues to exist, suppressed, alienated, denied expression under the tyranny of Form!

And as I am writing this I already worry – whom do I write it for? What will they think? Who am I trying to impress? Who will care about my fragility, my petty struggle, the shaking of my arms as I carry our mutual banner – “Truth”? I can see all the daggers I just offered up on a plate, they are labelled “obscure”, “trivial”, “self-important”, “egotistical.” And the form lays my chest bare and exposed, awaiting the stab. But why can we not have a more honest form than the cold-hearted essay? Why can we not write of the impression of our minds, cast in words the direct negative of the knowledge as-it-exists in our heads? Full of misremembered references, superfluous Hegel-citations, insecure opinions, painful self-awareness. Perhaps we will learn more about what we actually have to say. Let us forget fears of judgement and find a better written form for reflection. Coherence can wait – there is beauty in reality.

So come, traveller, and speak without inhibitions, for I will not judge you – I will love you for your authenticity, for your frailty, for this renouncement of alienation.

World-pudding

"But can I wait until I'm right?" asks me, the person that wishes to be right. The person wants to proclaim the world-tree with branches of metal and angles of righteousness. The person wishing to be right wants to tell what is moral from what is wrong and know if it is the free market or socialism.

"But now, my friends, I proclaim that I will not be afraid to be wrong, for I want to open my mouth," says he from the top of the mountain. (Látjátok feleim szümtükkel ugyebár.) He holds some commandaments under his arm that he just made up. He is disciplined and sees the nonrational as well as the rational. He has nice robes but wears them funnily. His beard is thoughtful. He knows how to keep bees and ask kindly for their honey.

The best part of Hungarian Christmas

"I do away with the world-tree," says this gentrified Zarathustra from the top of the mountain. There are Strauss-chords and F trumpets in the mud below. "I proclaim the world-pudding. I know not much but nor will I learn if I just wait until I'm right. And the purpose is to learn and to proclaim, and not to dread forever the lack of judgment. How can I tell a good story without telling a hundred-and-ten bad ones first; how can I say anything rigorous and true before saying a hundred-and-ten things that are ridiculous but come from the heart? It might very well be a shame to be stupid, but it surely isn't to be incomplete."

I proclaim the world-pudding. Proclaim and advertise my infantile musings. He said it, I wish to learn and tell, not wait till I'm right. The world is made of gut, not metal. "Nothing ventured nothing gained," says Glenn Gould. And so I want to write a fugue. 

The associative story of a theme

ONE

Yesterday I listened to Beethoven's orange piano concerto in G major (why orange? I'm not sure, isn't everything in G kind of orange?) I'd just finished my last essay of the term so I had an exhilirating experience of complete liberation, and I felt like I'd never seen music with such clarity before (and we're talking about a piece I'd only heard once or twice!) Once I talked to a violinist who said something very interesting about making the audience get the "little jokes" in the music. Oh, now I got the little jokes in the music! I was melting away in the slow movement, dancing along to the rondo, and giggled when Beethoven spent three minutes with music consisting of seemingly nothing but scales and trills. I giggled at scales. It was amazing.

But honestly, look at this theme! (05:05 in this royalty free recording I IMSLP'd for you.)

And for those of you who (want to pretend to) read music:

Figure 1. Excerpt from Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 4, Mov. 3. (Courtesy of IMSLP)

How can something be so bouncy so shamelessly? (Okay, fair.) I could imagine myself being an early 19th century classical music conoisseur listening to this thinking "what a twat, he takes himself so seriously and yet half of this is just ghastly scales and trills and octave runs endlessly." (Also why Bernstein said that Beethoven was quite simplistic in everything but in his treatment of form.) My 19th century alterego would have also felt very cold listening to this at the public premiere on 22 December 1808, in the Theater an der Wien, since there was no money for heating at this concert organised for Beethoven's personal benefit. 

And what a concert! Four hours long! (in the cold!) Presenting:

• Symphony No. 6 (premiere)
• an aria
• a movement from the Mass in C
• this piano concerto (premiere)
• Symphony No. 5 (premiere)
• another movement from the Mass in C
• a fantasia for solo piano (I guess Beethoven felt like there was space for some impro in the middle of all this)
• Choral fantasy in c minor

If I'd been one of the dedicated listeners who stayed till the end, I would have thought, upon listening to the choral fantasy: "hm, this is oddly familiar."

TWO

My actual self yesterday, listening to the Fourth Concerto, thought the same during the secondary theme of the thrid movement, except the other way around. Have a listen at 9:30.

Figure 2. Courtesy of IMSLP.

Don't you think it's oddly familiar? Well I'm not saying there is actually any connection, but maybe minds work in interesting associative ways and I like long-arching stories, so let's just compare with a liberal ear to the theme of the aforementioned Choral Fantasia in c minor:

Figure 3. I got too lazy to IMSLP things out.

That little descending and then ascending figure going diatonically... hm? And if you look at the end of the video (maybe around 13:58) where the choir joins in, you might once again get a sense that you have heard this somewhere else. Maybe the Choral Fantasy, written specifically for this concert as a large-scale celebration of art, with chorus, piano and orchestra (the main features of the evening) all singing together, saying joyful and uplifting words in German... maybe this rather simple theme served as inspiration for something much more grandiose later...?

THREE

Of course, otherwise I would not have written this post. And, of course, I'm talking about the Ninth.

 Figure 4. Beethoven Symphony No. 9, movement four.

Even the chord progression from the coda of the Choral fantasy makes an appearance in the final section of the fourth movement of the Ninth! While I have read no one pointing out the relationship between the motif in the Piano Concerto and the Choral Fantasy, it is somewhat recognised that the latter might have been some sort of incubator for the "Ode an die Freude" theme in the Ninth.

If this three-part evolution of a motif from the 1805 Piano Concerto through the 1808 Choral Fantasy to the world-famous theme of the 9th Symphony in 1825 doesn't already make you feel a little excited and elevated and just generally more appreciative of existence (which you should not confuse with the similar feelings arisen by the 9th Symphony that you left playing in the background) then... don't worry, because there is more.

FOUR

The 9th Symphony became extremely famous and influential and for a while classical-style symphonies were often characterised as mere afterthoughts, which I remember a quote about, but I couldn't find from whom, so be satisfied with the fact that Wikipedia says a guy named Mark Bonds says so. In lieu of aesthetically admirable symphonies, people occupied themselves with other things, I guess, like symphonic poems, Wagner, colonialism and the Communist Manifesto.

But then Brahms came along and he was heralded as an heir to Beethoven, and (anecdotally) was so anxious about writing a symphony, expected by everyone to measure up to those of the grand predecessor, that he worked on it for twenty-one years. It turned out to be quite good though (by 1876), and it has a really nice theme in the final movement:

Figure 5. Brahms Symphony No. 1, movement 4

As it was even confirmed by the composer, this was a direct reference to Beethoven's 9th. But what does it mean? My favourite interpretation stems from looking at the larger structure of the fourth movement.

slow introduction - A - B - A with development - B with development - return of introduction material, coda

It has been variously analysed as a sonata form with a development integrated into the recapitulation or - relevant here - as a truncated rondo form. We have a theme (the Beethoven theme, A) stated, then returning after the end of the exposition, which is followed by an elaborated restatement of the transition and the secondary theme. We would expect the Beethovenian theme to return in the end... but it doesn't. It is instead replaced by material from the introduction.

As a book I read sneakily in the Cambridge University Press bookstore but don't remember the title of said, this can be interpreted as some sort of symbolic turning away from Beethoven. A young Brahms, in the shadow of Beethoven (see the ominous banging at the very beginning of the symphony) sets out to write a symphony, and after two decades, he re-confronts the Master and waves goodbye to him to embrace his own musical world - one that is arguably less revolutionary, more reserved, more introverted and conservative.

Of course we can only speculate, but this explanation makes me happy if I think about it. However, the journey of the theme is still not over.

FIVE

Figure 6. Mahler Symphony No. 3, movement one.

Oh yes.

I remember watching the anime "Legends of the Galactic Heroes" with some friends. This music starts almost every episode, with a narrator voice explaining the backstory that was too costly to animate. I did not even know this was Mahler at the time, but I was just getting familiar with Brahms' First, so I noticed the similarity. The rythm is identical, but Mahler shuffled up the notes a bit and put the phrase from C major (oh those sul G violins...) to D minor (oh those horns!) When I finally discovered the magic of Mahler and first opened Symphony No. 3 it made me very excited to realise: ah, you are the LotGH theme. 

And finally, I could google my confusion. Why did Mahler steal a theme from Brahms and then make it the central motif of the first third of his grand symphony, seemingly nothing to do in style with Brahms or Beethoven? And the internet gave me various interpretations, from simply acknowledging the homage (boring) to elaborate philosophical musings (yes please.)

To interpret this quote, we must understand the position Mahler's Third occupies in the story of the symphonic genre. Beethoven, at the dawn of the romantic era, was the one that crystallised the symphony as the aesthetic pinnacle of instrumental music, as not something mass produced (see Mozart with 41, Haydn with 100+ entries in the genre and so on), but as something a composer writes a few in one's lifetime (usually up to 9 before dying), and shows the highest heights of one's artistic achievement. Brahms was the eptiome of high romanticism that celebrated and carried on this symphonic paradigm. Mahler was the end of it.

Beethoven's Ninth was a monumental work of new lengths (each movement as long as the average Haydn symphony), instrumentation (snare drum, triangle, a choir) and form (a recapitulation of material in the fourth movement from the previous movements). Brahms alluded to this symphony, but then did something else with his own: synthesised the emotional intensity of romanticism with the reserved spirit of the pre-Beethoven classical, and in the final reprise of his rondo-finale, replaced the expected Beethovenian theme with his own (a contemplative, spiritual horn call and chorale).

Enter Mahler, who, at the end of the romantic era, before the cultural turning away from the paradigm started by Beethoven, once again recalls this theme symbolic of high culture, of watershed moments in the history of the symphony, and uses it to kick-start his own vision of symphony-as-a-world, symphonies of new harmonies, new scales and forms. He conjures the Brahmsian world that he's going to tear apart. In this act of necromancy Beethoven implicitly becomes the symbol of the early romantic, Brahms of the high romantic, and Mahler of the new, brave, but dark late romantic, tied together with a thread running from the giggling scales of the Fourth Concerto to the breathtaking depths of love in the Third Symphony's finale.

Now isn't that quite nice.

FINE.

Books in July

In July, my reading achievements were pretty pathetic, I didn't read anything on most days, as I was occupied with teaching at ESPR and travelling. At the end of the month I did start consistently reading 100 pages a day (which is my nominal goal since late May). In total I read 580 pages which amounted to two complete books.

Friedrich Nietzsche: Beyond Good and Evil

This was the first complete Nietzsche book I read, before that I pretended to understand him by watching Youtube videos. It was fun, I still consider him the best motivational literature out there, he really fueled my will to power. I only noticed now what a sexist asshole he actually was (something my beloved Youtube series on him tended to ignore). It is interesting that upon realising that all truth is just made up, he didn't go on to think that commonly held beliefs and prejudices about women might also not be true. He also says something detrimental about structuralism, but actually I don't see how describing structures of power and oppression as main drivers of human history contradict the stuff he's saying.

The first picture you find of Nietzsche on Google.

But as someone told me, you don't have to understand Nietzsche, you have to feel Nietzsche. That kind of makes sense - there is a very charming, river-flowy fire-breathing style he has - the guide in the darkness, the provider of fundamentals, the hold-your-hand-and-tell-you-the-truth certainty. He breaks down systems of authority and gives you the hammer and sickle to build your own reality and sow the seeds you've grown into your own aesthetic ideal of grain. He provides you some things he realised about the world - but that is only a pointer to the deeper drive, the will, the realisation of you. Nietzsche doesn't want you to be a sexist asshole, he doesn't want you to follow him, he wants the Übermensch to rise and "experiment" and give shape to the aesthetics and texture born in their mind.

Jókai Mór: És mégis mozog a Föld (Eppur si muove) (first half)

I rememered vaguely from a high school literature class that I wanted to read this book, so now I did. It came in two parts, which I came to realise when I was reaching the end of the first but no conclusion was in sight. Sadly, the second part wasn't on my shelf and I didn't care about it that much, so I'm satisfied with it as it is.

The first picture you find of Jókai on Google.

It is a classic romantic novel, guy moves to big town and loses his illusions and struggles to realise which woman is the nicer one, the cute one or the willful one, wants to write poems but everyone wants him to be a lawyer etc. After this I read Lost Illusions by Balzac and realised how similar they are, but this is distinctly Hungarian and cutely-naively Romantic; Jókai has a very descriptive style, but is really a master of his language and it just feels so good man. Of course, I'm writing this in English, so I cannot really convey the exact feeling, but oh the acrobatism of description and elegant choice of words and the random anecdotes and things he knew...

It is not his best novel by far, probably not very valuable, one out of dozens he wrote. But still, this is a master of his craft, sitting down one Tuesday afternoon to write a novel and bringing in all his texture and wit to craft a story and characters and tell a tale of love and common sense and revolution.

On approval

Yeah, I think you're basically right.
I mean, I could bring things up for the sake of argument, but there is really nothing wrong with what you're saying.
It is quite all right as it is, to be fair.
We could look at the details of what you said and probably find some problems here and there in the exact argument, but it's no big deal really.
I think you should just follow through with it and it'll work out.
You did well overall.
It is a good idea.
I approve.
Just do it really.
It is not without its downsides, but, like, what is? I'm sure you thought it through well and are very conscious about potential ways it can go wrong, so if after that, you still think you should do it, I approve.
Really, it's all right.
Everything will be fine.
I approve.