Beethoven was not known for being a polite and gentle man. When he was alive, the European ruling class called all the shots, and musicians were most certainly considered to be of the servant class. So it’s natural that he championed Napoleon‘s revolutions against tyrannical monarchies, so much so that Beethoven decided to dedicate his third symphony to the Frenchman. Well, it was a good idea until Napoleon declared himself emperor, at which point Beethoven angrily ripped off the front page of his symphony and violently rubbed out Bonaparte’s name, leaving a gaping hole in the page.

The fourth movement of the symphony is a set of variations on an original theme Beethoven had written earlier. Putting political and military personages aside, Beethoven is both revolutionary and heroic in this music: Revolutionary because he expressed his unbridled emotions and wrote what he wanted to, practically ushering in the romantic era; Heroic because there are parts in this movement where I believe Beethoven becomes completely lost and doesn’t know what to do next. He doesn’t have Mozart’s grace and complete control over his score; he doesn’t have Bach’s brain for organization, which knew the limits of a piece of music based on the first couple measures. Beethoven has to fight for it – and fight he does, with bravura that you have to admire.

Don’t ask me, I didn’t come up with that.

Maybe from boredom, maybe from drinking, or maybe from a sudden burst of creative energy at 4am – whatever the cause, sometimes people write wacky lyrics to instrumental pieces. Sometimes they’re very clever – for example, I’ve heard these words sung to the opening bassoon solo in Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring:

“I am not an English horn, I am not an English horn, this goes too high for me, I am not an English horn.”

Another one which is hilarious (albeit on an esoteric level) is this text for the secondary theme in the slow movement of Franck’s Symphony:

“Cesar Franck composed the best he could; his music sounds like Brahms, but not as good.”

But then there’s this one, which is used primarily as a mnemonic device for music students to remember the melody of the minuet from Mozart‘s Symphony in g minor:

“Insane men, ripping out their hair.” Wat?

I can almost rationalize these lyrics: the melody of this movement is somewhat in 2/4 time, while the dance itself is in 3/4 time. It’s like trying to dance a polka when you’re supposed to be dancing a waltz. If you feel the melody in 2/4, then you’ll find yourself adding a beat here or there to compensate, and it can make you insane, possibly causing you to rip out your hair. Whatever, I didn’t come up with it.

Ugh, the stress, the confusion, the emotional rollercoaster of paying taxes. Well, it’s over now – how about something uplifting to get us out of the grave?

On one hand, I feel bad for Johann Nepomuk Hummel, because he is only remembered for one piece – his Trumpet Concerto. On the other hand, it’s not so bad to have your name forever engraved in the annals of history, even if it’s for a single composition. Anyway, despite a large output of music, he is a classical one-hit wonder.

Perhaps what makes this concerto so popular is its place in history. Before Hummel’s time, trumpets didn’t have keys, and tended to play either extremely difficult, sky-high parts, or dull notes that merely added “punctuation” to orchestral music. The 19th century saw an outpouring of new and improved instruments, one of which was the keyed trumpet (holes in the trumpet, like a clarinet or flute – very different from valves, which is what we consider normal for a trumpet these days.) Hummel’s concerto could not have been played on an instrument without valves or keys, so in a sense, it’s the earliest piece of its kind, and the closest thing to Beethoven or Mozart that trumpet players can play. Eventually the keyed trumpet disappeared because the valved trumpet was far superior. The concerto is brilliant and virtuosic, and began a new chapter in the history of the instrument (and the whole brass family, for that matter).