During my sophomore year in college, I took an English Composition course from a very talented writer. But he was an even more talented violinist.
To curry favor, I wrote an essay on Bach writing something like: “You can hear the voice of God in Bach’s music.” The type of thing you would expect a sophomore to write.
My teacher, who adored Bach’s music, called me in for a conference. Not to talk about my writing, but my perception of baroque music.
He told me I had fallen into the romantic heresy of believing music stood for something. I remember his exact words. “Bach is not program music. It is an intellectual construct. Saying it is anything else demeans its beauty.”
I thought of my professor on Sunday afternoon while attending the last performance of the Atlanta Chamber Players. Over the years,I have concluded he was wrong.
Music is not merely an intellectual construct. No matter what form it takes, art is the artist’s method of communicating something to us about our world and ourselves. And how to make sense of both.
Sunday night’s performance successfully did just that. Starting with the selection of music.
To curry favor, I wrote an essay on Bach writing something like: “You can hear the voice of God in Bach’s music.” The type of thing you would expect a sophomore to write.
My teacher, who adored Bach’s music, called me in for a conference. Not to talk about my writing, but my perception of baroque music.
He told me I had fallen into the romantic heresy of believing music stood for something. I remember his exact words. “Bach is not program music. It is an intellectual construct. Saying it is anything else demeans its beauty.”
I thought of my professor on Sunday afternoon while attending the last performance of the Atlanta Chamber Players. Over the years,I have concluded he was wrong.
Music is not merely an intellectual construct. No matter what form it takes, art is the artist’s method of communicating something to us about our world and ourselves. And how to make sense of both.
Sunday night’s performance successfully did just that. Starting with the selection of music.
- Mozart’s Clarinet Trio in E-flat major K 498
- Ned Rorem’s Trio (for flute, cello & piano)
- Mendelssohn’s Piano Trio No. 2 in C minor Op. 66
Mozart was once the prime example of chamber music frozen in amber. Groups attempted to play his music as they imagined The Great One would play it. Forgetting that Mozart, with all of his genius, was the most human of composers. A fact that Peter Shaffer's play, Amadeus, helped remedy in contemporary minds.
The players embodied exactly the right mood in the Mozart piece. Playful. Joyful. Hypnotic enough to make the audience sway along with the clarinet
The Rorem trio was fully modern in its concept and filled with existential angst. In addition to being a composer, Rorem is also a writer. And that is apparent in the architecture of is music.
He does what good writers do. In his Largo (the second movement) he has the flute and cello exchanging soft lyrical phrases while the piano intrudes in the background with rhythmic cacophony. Until the soft exchanges begin to echo the piano and their tension matches the thrust of the piano.
Edward Albee did something similar in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And to similar effect.
The piece is technically very difficult. The players were easily up to the task. Where the piece called for lyricism, their instruments sang. But they absolutely excelled in the very difficult syncopation of the last movement. Playing as one with three voices.
And then there was the Mendelssohn. He has long been one of my favorite composers.
I suppose I first knew him only as that guy who wrote The Wedding March. But, somewhere in high school, I bought an album containing a couple of his chamber pieces. I was hooked.
His piano trio is quintessential Mendelssohn. Intricate and lyrical, but simultaneously infused with German philosophical concepts. Allowing the audience to easily imagine Mendelssohn sitting with Hegel and Goethe, bedecked in black frock coats, discussing the very meaning of man’s existence.
The full gamut of the human soul is here. Melancholy. Remorse. Bittersweet joy. Love unrequited. Love lost. Love shared. Exhilaration.
For me, this was the high point of the three nights I attended. It was technically the most difficult piece played. And the players performed it flawlessly.
The first movement is an incredibly physical piece of music. The violinist is required to play at the very edge of control. At the close of the movement, you could feel the audience straining to violate the “no applause” convention. As for me, I was ready to shout “bravo.”
Mendelssohn includes a phrase from a hymn (Vor deinen Thron tret ich hiermit) as musical quotation in the closing portion of his fourth movement -- weaving it into the theme he develops in the previous three movements.
The players caught that flavor perfectly. Shifting from the lyrical to the majestic. Evoking the nobility of man through his subservience to a mighty God.
I wish I could have attended this concert with my writing professor. There is no doubt that music is arguably the most intellectual of the art forms in its reliance on abstract mathematics.
But music is far more. And I, for one, thank the Atlanta Chamber Players for being the talented communicators of composers who have something to teach us about who and why we are.
The players embodied exactly the right mood in the Mozart piece. Playful. Joyful. Hypnotic enough to make the audience sway along with the clarinet
The Rorem trio was fully modern in its concept and filled with existential angst. In addition to being a composer, Rorem is also a writer. And that is apparent in the architecture of is music.
He does what good writers do. In his Largo (the second movement) he has the flute and cello exchanging soft lyrical phrases while the piano intrudes in the background with rhythmic cacophony. Until the soft exchanges begin to echo the piano and their tension matches the thrust of the piano.
Edward Albee did something similar in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And to similar effect.
The piece is technically very difficult. The players were easily up to the task. Where the piece called for lyricism, their instruments sang. But they absolutely excelled in the very difficult syncopation of the last movement. Playing as one with three voices.
And then there was the Mendelssohn. He has long been one of my favorite composers.
I suppose I first knew him only as that guy who wrote The Wedding March. But, somewhere in high school, I bought an album containing a couple of his chamber pieces. I was hooked.
His piano trio is quintessential Mendelssohn. Intricate and lyrical, but simultaneously infused with German philosophical concepts. Allowing the audience to easily imagine Mendelssohn sitting with Hegel and Goethe, bedecked in black frock coats, discussing the very meaning of man’s existence.
The full gamut of the human soul is here. Melancholy. Remorse. Bittersweet joy. Love unrequited. Love lost. Love shared. Exhilaration.
For me, this was the high point of the three nights I attended. It was technically the most difficult piece played. And the players performed it flawlessly.
The first movement is an incredibly physical piece of music. The violinist is required to play at the very edge of control. At the close of the movement, you could feel the audience straining to violate the “no applause” convention. As for me, I was ready to shout “bravo.”
Mendelssohn includes a phrase from a hymn (Vor deinen Thron tret ich hiermit) as musical quotation in the closing portion of his fourth movement -- weaving it into the theme he develops in the previous three movements.
The players caught that flavor perfectly. Shifting from the lyrical to the majestic. Evoking the nobility of man through his subservience to a mighty God.
I wish I could have attended this concert with my writing professor. There is no doubt that music is arguably the most intellectual of the art forms in its reliance on abstract mathematics.
But music is far more. And I, for one, thank the Atlanta Chamber Players for being the talented communicators of composers who have something to teach us about who and why we are.
