And then there’s this Jupiter.

The last symphony Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart composed stands as a monument to his compositional genius, and as a pillar of regret to the fact that he died so young. This symphony looks ahead to Beethoven and the romantic era in general. With its scope, complexity, size, and orchestration, we hear a Mozart who was maturing; many might even mistake this symphony for one of Beethoven’s. But unlike Beethoven, Mozart never gets “lost” in his composition; he’s always completely in control, whereas Beethoven had to occasionally resort to cheap tricks to get him out of a tough spot.

But back to Jupiter. So is this about the planet, the Roman god, or both?

Neither. It was just “Symphony No. 41 in C major” when Mozart wrote it. Like Haydn‘s “Clock Symphony” and Beethoven‘s “Moonlight Sonata“, it was named long after it was composed, and not by the composer.

This is the fourth and final movement of the symphony, which contains some incredible fugue writing – enough so that even Bach would blush!

Stereotypes are as rampant in music as they are in the rest of human interactions. So when you’re a French Horn, everybody expects you to act like a French Horn.

So, berets, striped shirts, croissants, escargot et vin, oui oui? Nein – lederhosen und bier. The common French horn is actually German. (The English Horn is the French instrument, you silly billy.)

Brass instruments have been around for millennia, and because they have the capacity to be LOUD, they were used to communicate over long distances, either in war (charge! or, retreat!) or in the hunt (we’ve managed to catch a single fox/boar with no less than 20 men and 100 dogs!) To make matters worse, valves (keys) on brass instruments are a relatively new invention (late 19th century); without valves, they are somewhat limited in the number of notes they could play. If you think about the pitches heard in a typical brass fanfare (eg, the theme to Masterpiece Theater), that’s pretty much what brass could do before valves were added. Modern brass instruments are able to play any pitch, and are capable of a huge pallet of tone colors – but it’s hard to shake old stereotypes. They still get more than their fair share of “ta-das” and “too-ta-ti-toos.”

But despite all the negative effects of this musical stereotype, the brass do what they do really well. Fanfare for the Common Man wasn’t written for the glass harmonica, after all. So, here is a rondo from a Mozart horn concerto which makes me want to go and chase foxes. Not boars, though. They’re scary.

If you like this, may I recommend this funny song by Flanders & Swann. It requires a very specific sense of humor, and an acute understanding of British pronunciation – namely, that the English consider “horn” and “gone” to rhyme (not to mention “burglar” & “pergola”)

… to work.

After a nice long weekend and holiday, it’s going to take a Grande double-espresso Macchiato to get back into gear this morning. I’ll see your coffee and raise you a Mozart Overture to the Marriage of Figaro.

Here’s a little joke I heard about Ricardo Muti:

Muti is lost in the middle of a hot, dry desert. The burning sun is beating down on him, and he is miserable.
“Please, God,” (said in an Italian accent) “… please, just send me two drops of water. That’s all I ask, two drops of water!”
A second later, a small cloud forms above Muti. He holds out his hands in front of him, hoping God has heard his prayer. Two drops of water fall from the cloud and land, one in each of Muti’s palms.
“Thank you God!” Muti yells up to heaven. He claps his hands together, rubs them, then slicks his hair back.