Yup. I’m a Beliber.

The violin family of instruments reached a point of perfection around the year 1600; modern violins are virtually the same as the instruments made 400 years ago. Whenever humanity produces a new musical instrument (or any worthy invention, for that matter), humans go and push that instrument to the extreme. Enter Franz Biber.

Biber’s contribution to music includes a variety of choral and instrument music, sacred and secular. But mainly, he is remembered for his wicked violin skills, employing double stops and alternate string tunings (scordatura).

Just like Bieber, Biber had some legal issues, but no model-worthy mugshots. The Bib just skipped out on his employer, prince Karl II, for a better gig elsewhere (musicians were servants, and could not leave their royal employers without permission).

Observing the progression of musical ideas and fashion can be truly fascinating. What is good (even acceptable) today might sound ridiculous a century from now.

Case and point: Julius Caesar. A popular subject; there are many famous plays, operas, and movies about him – especially his death. When I think of imperial Rome, a very specific musical sound comes into my head. It’s the sound that was shaped by films such as Spartacus, Gladiator, The Life of Brian (not the silly songs – the incidental music), and of course, the video game Civilization (see 7:05). But that “epic” sound wasn’t always the sound of Rome. When Handel wrote his opera Giulio Caesar, the overture fit the style of his time. Nowadays, we can still enjoy the music, but I’d wager that most people wouldn’t associate this sweet, delicate sound with the leader of brutal, powerful, imperial Rome:

Again, reflecting on our modern associations with musical style, hearing this music makes me think of powdered wigs and ruffly coats, not togas. The music is great, but not Caesarian. Give me the music of Miklós Rózsa, and his score to the 1950s film, Julius Ceasar!

1, 2, 3, 4,
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Happy birthday Albert Einstein! To honor you, how about we listen to a 5-hour opera with no plot and no intermissions?

Minimalist composer Philip Glass‘ 1976 opera, Einstein on the Beach indeed doesn’t have an actual plot, but instead presents a repetitive music with counting numbers and repeated spoken phrases. You could say that it musically presents the inner clockwork of the mind of a genius – pondering and calculating things that most people can’t even begin to understand.

Having played a limited number of minimalist pieces myself, I can say that this opera requires the very best musicians. The concentration of mind and strength of muscle required is enough to give most players some PTSD.