Simply mention the hit video game Tetris to someone who has played it, and they will instantly think about the catchy music that accompanies the game. In this game, the player organizes blocks into (hopefully) organized stacks. The music of Johann Sebastian Bach is similar, in that he often takes a small musical idea (motif) and turns it into a building block out of which he builds an entire piece – much like building a house entirely out of tiny Legos.

Anyone who has played Tetris knows the main theme music (Music A), but for those more adventurous types who chose the B or C music, you might recognize the Minuet (jump to 11:35) from Bach’s French Suite in b minor. Many of the movements of this suite are built on small motivic ideas, which, when stacked correctly on top of each other, can create magnificent structures.

The final movement of Bach‘s St. Matthew Passion is a tearful lullaby to Jesus: “rest sweetly, good night!” There is a figure that Bach uses over and over again to emulate the sound of sobbing – you can hear it clearly at 2:26, but it is found throughout the piece.

But the best part of this piece is the 7-8 suspension that happens at every important cadence!

if you have no idea what that means, let me explain:

A cadence is a stopping point. A suspension is when you expect a certain note at a certain time, but the composer delays that certain note to intensify the feeling of resolve that you get when you finally hear said note.

So, at 4:48, we expect to hear:
sol fa me re DO

but instead we hear:
sol fa me re TI DO

And that TI, it hurts, but it hurts so good.

This version is very tastefully done. If I ever get to conduct this piece, I assure you I will make that suspension as tasteless as possible.

One of the most stunning arias in Bach‘s St. Matthew Passion is without a doubt Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben. This aria comes as a quiet interruption of the most intense part of Jesus’ trial before Pilate. The crowd is screaming for Jesus’ crucifixion, and Pilate, fearing a riot, gives them what they demand. In between two shouts of “crucify him”, comes the aria.

Even more stunning is the bizarre orchestration: flute and soprano dance together on two unique melodies, accompanied by two oboes da caccia (predecessor of the modern English horn) – basically a low-pitched oboe. The oboes, I should mention, are by no means low-pitched instruments, nor are they really well adapted at playing the part Bach wrote for them – a funny, pulsing sort of heartbeat.

Heard alone, the aria is so melancholy it hurts. Heard in context, between two loud shouts of “crucify him!”, it is as if Bach was able to pause time to illuminate a glimmer of love in a time of intense hatred.