It was 1750. For nearly a century, Baroque piety and gravity weighed heavily on European aristocrats. “Hey, enough of this square, complex music that makes me think about death and stuff. Don’t you know anything, you know, hummable? Something light and upbeat? We just want to party.” Poor aristocrats. What was there to do? The colonies were colonial, the soldiers were soldiering, the peasants were peasanting. They desperately needed a new entertainment – something their parents and grandparents would despise.

Thankfully, the tides were about to change, and the classical era was about to explode. Complex musical patterns gave way to simple, transparent forms. Rich harmony gave way to (essentially) three or four chord functions. Serious, “what is the meaning of life” oratorio gave way to light “let’s see how many people I can sleep with in three hours” opera. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times (quite literally, too.) And, generally speaking, it didn’t end well for those poor aristocrats.

Perhaps it was more “worst of times” than “best of times”. Even so, plenty of real treasures of astounding beauty remain from the classical era, including this well-loved dance from the opera Orfeo ed Euridice by Christoph von Gluck.

American composer Aaron Copland‘s best-known piece (surpassing even Fanfare for the Common Man) is a set of variations on the Shaker tune “Simple Gifts,” found in his ballet Appalachian Spring.

The ballet portrays the daily life of American pioneers in Pennsylvania; while it doesn’t have much of a specific plot, it covers themes of love, religion, dance. Copland’s use of “Simple Gifts” is much more than just setting a lovely tune – the words here express our modern fascination with the life of our ancestors. Theirs was certainly much more difficult, but perhaps free from the complexities that we face.

The Shakers are a truly fascinating religious group, and I recommend reading about them. They have dwindled down to three full members and one initiate, but are fully intent on continuing their work and their beliefs. Their worship included dance, and many of their hymns, like “Simple Gifts”, include not-so-hidden dance indications (turn!)

What Spring celebration would be complete without a romp through pagan ritual?

Igor Stravinsky‘s Rite of Spring is one of a few modern pieces that doesn’t require an introduction. (but if you need an short introduction – it’s a ballet piece that depicts ancient Russian equinox rituals of fertility, war, and human sacrifice.) I’d say it has already become the stuff of legend; there are many anecdotal stories about it. Its premiere ended in somewhat of a riot – but the music and the primal dancing were more of a spark that ignited the fuel laid by early 20th-century French social issues and class warfare. I’ve read both that Stravinsky was hurt that people laughed at the introductory bassoon solo, and that he himself laughed at “knock-kneed Lolitas” who were dancing.

And then there’s the dancing dinos of Disney. Copyright law wasn’t strong in 1940, and there’s a story of Walt Disney calling Stravinsky and demanding permission to use The Rite in his film, Fantasia – because Disney was going to use it regardless of Stravinsky’s answer, he had little choice but to agree. Having a film which included this score lead to lawsuits by the Philadelphia Orchestra and a music publisher, who sued Disney for a share of their massive profits.

Nowadays, The Rite continues its crazy influence. My favorite is a new cult of hosting Rite Dance Parties – bring your glow stick and your drugs.

So here it is, with a Ballet performance which attempts to recreate the legendary 1913 Paris premiere.