appassionata

from The Independent (London), 1 June 2005
Philip Hensher


Every age has its favourite composer, and, in the 20th century, it has rarely been a contemporary one. If Wagner wrote the soundtrack to Nazi Germany, other composers have seen their stock rise at less explicable moments.

Bach had a strange rise to mass popularity during the 1950s and early 1960s, not entirely due to Jacques Loussier's jazz arrangements; there was something about the cool rationality of the style which suited the period's conscious egalitarian opulence.

But more recently, the composer who has seemed to suit us best has been Mozart. Beginning with Peter Shaffer's play, Amadeus, and reaching a peak around the composer's bicentenary in 1991, a quite incredible wave of popularity settled on Mozart. He was repeatedly referred to as the greatest composer who ever lived.

Parts of his gigantic oeuvre which had been lying in well deserved dust since their premieres — the Masses, the works for glass harmonica, or the canons — were brought out and recorded, often repeatedly. A complete Mozart edition was a most unlikely best-seller, and is still, 15 years later, in the shops. When I was younger, I never expected to see that unspeakably tedious opera, La clemenza di Tito on stage: by now, it is part of the standard repertory, unfortunately.

Why Mozart? Perhaps it was something to do with the constraint of the expression. The passion and even violence of the music is expressed within safe bounds; the dissonance is aching, but never crude. Basically, the good taste which the 1990s perceived in Mozart suited its aspirational face. And the divine, mysterious perfection of the style discouraged active participation.

Mozart is the one composer where, even at his simplest, the audience can't see how it is done; a composer who discourages anything like argument. You sit through even the D minor Piano Concerto, and marvel safely from row G in the stalls. That was very much the spirit of the 1990s.

Stravinsky said that Mozart's working method was ultimately mysterious. On the other hand, he thought he knew how Beethoven composed. He could argue with him too — 'I do not understand how a man of such powers could lapse so frequently into such banality'.

Beethoven has been exploited by every European political regime you can think of, for its own dubious purposes. One of the casualties of the French referendum is that the theme of the variations in the Ninth Symphony may not, now, become the 'national anthem' of Europe. It was played, by Leonard Bernstein, to celebrate the fall of the Berlin Wall. The 'Eroica', on the other hand, was performed at another famous concert in Berlin, in 1945, as the city fell to the Russians; members of the SS stood at the exits with baskets full of cyanide tablets.

The authorities will exploit Beethoven, but we are free, too, to find our own meanings in him. And he seems uniquely sympathetic now. The massive outbreaks of violence in the Grosse Fuge or the 'Hammerklavier' Sonata are still shocking. The death of ideals, the blunders and fury of the 'Eroica' are not just the music of the end of the Enlightenment, but for all time.

And those extraordinary last pieces where incompatible voices slam against each other seem more pertinent than ever. The strange sequence of the C-sharp minor String Quartet, or the marvellous late piano Bagatelles; the bizarre collage of the Ninth Symphony's finale is music for a confusing world. And when the distant sounds of war enter into the last pages of the Missa Solemnis — the greatest thing Beethoven ever wrote — they are not just the guns of Waterloo, but those of Iraq, too.

At the moment, Beethoven, even without an anniversary, seems like the right composer to be listening to. He is frightening in a way which needs no explanation; many of his greatest pieces, like the finale of the 'Hammerklavier' Sonata, still seem as difficult to listen to as Stockhausen. Radio 3 has found a good moment to throw him at us in bulk; he reminds us that the world — even the world as found in one remarkable mind — cannot always be subdued to our own small pleasures.


(C) 2005 The Independent - London. via ProQuest Information and Learning Company; All Rights Reserved

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, yeah. Fandom. Beethoven was one of my first childhood heroes (the other one was Maradona aka The Hand of God). Hmm. i see an early fascination with rebels, with people who break the rules, who have a sense of daring defiance, and who put their inspirations into practice in the real world.

This article basically puts in words what i think about Bach, Mozart and Beethoven. i've always felt that Bach was too dry, Mozart too perfect. Beethoven, on the other hand, was uber-human.


A few recommendations for Beethoven newbies:


Orchestral Music:

1) Symphony No. 3 in E flat major, 'Eroica'
- a rousing, heroic piece originally dedicated to Napolean, until he made himself Emperor and Beethoven, deeply disappointed, scratched out the dedication on the first page of the score.

2) Symphony No. 5 in C minor
- the 'Fate' motif of the 1st movement is probably the most overplayed tune in the entire classical repertoire. But if you're willing to take this piece on its own merits instead of finding fault with it for its popularity, you'll find out why everyone loves this so much.

3) Symphony No. 6 in F major, 'Pastorale'
- if you like gurgling brooks and birdsong and wide blue skies with cotton-wool clouds, this is for you. You'll hear all these things in the first movement. And the rest of the symphony is an exuberant celebration of pastoral life.

4) Symphony No. 7 in A major
- i have deeply personal reasons for loving this. The slow movement has seen me through some of my worst life crises (such as they have been) - there's something about the fugal layering and that soaring violin that feels so very poignant, full of aching and longing.

5) Symphony No. 9 in D major, 'Choral'
What can i say? i think this is the apotheosis of musical brilliance. The Alpha and the Omega of all music. And the joy of the last movement is almost palpable. Before such genius, we can only bow down and worship.


Piano music:

1) Piano Sonata No. 8 in C minor, 'Pathetique'
- The second movement is unbelievably tender, without being mushy. i don't like the recordings that romanticise it. That, as far as i'm concerned, goes against the heart of this piece, which is vulnerable in the most cleanly restrained way.

2) Piano Sonata No. 14 in C sharp minor, 'Quasi una Fantasia' aka 'Moonlight'
- i love the calm sostenuto of the first movement, and the fiery passion in the last. i used to think of the last movement as a cat on a hot tin roof. Funny, that.

3) Piano Sonata No 17 in D minor, 'Tempest'
- It's true, the third movement does sound like rain falling insistently and incessantly on the good green earth. i love this because of the surprise modulation towards the end of the last movement that my piano teacher pointed out to me when i was learning to play it. She said that it was characteristic of Beethoven's genius to be able to wrench your heart with just one unexpected note.

4) Piano Sonata No. 21 in C major, 'Waldstein'
- i love the clear, bell-like soprano line in the first movement, soaring above the turbulent thirds that roil furiously in the bass line.


Concertos

1) Piano Concerto No. 5 in E flat major, 'Emperor'
- Beautiful. This is one of those pieces of music that make life worth living.

2) Violin Concerto in D major
- Sparklingly beautiful. This is one of the great violin concertos, and no wonder: not many other composers could make a violin sing the way Beethoven could.


There's more good stuff, of course. But i think these are good to start with.

Happy exploring.
...
...