Say the words “abstract art”, and what comes to mind? Scribbly canvases, urinals turned upside down, music that sounds like nails scraping across a chalkboard?

Abstractism isn’t a 20th century novelty, though – it comes and goes. Mosaic patterns on an ancient church floor may not have any specific meaning, but you can still enjoy looking at them. Likewise, a piece of music doesn’t have to tell a story (by words, or without words) to be beautiful. On one hand, we have Till Eulenspiegel, which, without words, tells a story; and then there’s the fabulous symphonies of Mozart, which say so much without telling any sort of story.

It’s easy for us to swallow the idea of Ludwig van Beethoven‘s “Pastorale Symphony“. What could be more natural than a musical painting of a city boy’s refreshing trip to the country? When it was written, though, it was quite contrary to popular style of the classical era, which favored abstract instrumental pieces with solid, predictable forms (even sacred music of the classical era favored compositional form over the meaning of the sacred texts – one of the reasons you’ll hear Mozart’s Solemn Vespers in concerts but rarely in a liturgical setting).

Beethoven closed the door on the classical era and ushered in the romantic; his 1st and 5th symphonies do this by breaking the typical classical forms. The revolution might be subtle to our modern ears, but the Pastorale Symphony crushes the classical era by tossing convention aside and reviving a passion for programmatic music – music that is charged with a story, meaning, and even purpose.

“Nimrod” from Elgar‘s Enigma Variations is supposedly inspired by an all-night conversation about the slow movements of Beethoven symphonies. I’ve always imagined this movement to be the core of that conversation.

A few words about Strings. Of all the modern instruments humans play, the violin family was the earliest to reach (relative) perfection of construction, around 1600. (Side note: the double bass is not in the violin family, but instead a “leftover” from the earlier viol family, and has a different tuning and body shape, among other things.) Strings are the reason we have symphony orchestras. Their range is massive, and they sound consistently good in any register. They don’t tire quickly (compared to winds or brass players), and the ear doesn’t tire of their sound. They are equally adept at slow, sustained music as they are with fast, agile passages. It’s no wonder that many composers enjoy writing for String Quartet. It’s like a completely blank canvas, or a mound of clay that can be shaped into practically anything.

I love spending Saturday mornings with a cup of tea and a String Quartet. So, here’s Beethoven‘s in C minor. Enjoy!

… but it’s no matter if you laugh.

The word Scherzo is Italian for “I joke” or “I jest”. It’s also a very common title for the second or third movement of a symphony. (a movement is a complete musical piece that serves as a part of a larger musical work – for example, you might say “The Fellowship of the Ring” is the first movement of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy.) Typically, a scherzo is in a very fast triple meter, which gives a musical character of lighthearted skipping. Perhaps it’s this jolly, carefree, dance feeling that gives these movements their name. I’ve also heard a theory that the “joke” of the scherzo is that it’s actually a minuet played so quickly that nobody could actually dance it (minuet movements were popular in symphonies before they were ultimately replaced by the scherzo.)

Joke or not, they are fun to listen to, and yes, they definitely make you want to skip around.

Ludwig van Beethoven needs no introduction. This Scherzo is from one of his most-loved symphonies, no. 7.