Often, non-living “characters” play important roles in stories or staged dramas. I’m not referring to a mountain that magically speaks, however. I’m thinking of landscapes, weather, or other things that metaphorically relate to the actions and emotions of the human characters: for example, a movie where, at the moment of greatest tension, a thunderstorm breaks; or, a dry, desert landscape when the story has reached a point of despair and emptiness.

Peter Grimes is an opera by English composer Benjamin Britten, which was first performed less than a month after the European fighting of World War II ended. The plot is dark and disturbing; I wonder, though, if it didn’t seem so creepy when it was premiered, considering the destruction that British audiences saw during the war. From this opera, four musical interludes have been excerpted and used as concert repertoire by orchestras. Within the opera, these “Sea Interludes” set the scene both by painting a landscape, and by establishing a mood.

The first interlude is titled “Dawn”. Unlike the sweet, cheerful “Morning Mood” of Grieg, this morning reeks of a small, poor, fishing village, of closed-minded, spying villagers, of a brutal man, and of the impending doom of a young boy. It’s peaceful, but unsettling at the same time.

According to Wikipedia, the Viking Age began on June 8th, 793, which makes today the beginning of the 1224th year of the Viking Age. Still going strong.

I posted some Wagner yesterday, so it feels wrong to post Wagner again – but I just can’t help it. This aria is a love-song that a bad-ass Nord (who is also a dumb-ass) named Siegfried sings to a Viking’s most valuable possession – his sword. The little troll guy running around that Siegfried abuses is a horrid nuisance who also happens to be the sword’s creator.

This opera comes from a set of four operas by Wagner, known as the Ring Cycle, which tell a story from Norse mythology which bears great similarity to The Lord of the Rings. This epic opera cycle is so significant that you can hear its influence in the music of practically every medieval / fantasy movie ever made.

the video ends abruptly … Wagner arias are hard to contain into bite-sized chunks – I wrote about this yesterday.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the distinct pleasure of playing the violin in an orchestra while a friend of mine sang this beautiful aria from Richard Wagner‘s opera, Tannhäuser. This was a joy to me for three reasons:

1. The violin part was easy enough for me to play without noticeably screwing up.
2. My friend’s rich bass-baritone voice was like rich gravy on a perfectly roasted Thanksgiving turkey. (I love to compare music to food, by the way.)
3. Um, it’s WAGNER!

This famous aria is often used to introduce young musicians (singers and instrumentalists alike) to Wagner. Unlike earlier scene-and-aria operas, Wagner’s arias are difficult to extract from the action of the opera. In an 18th century opera, there are very clear beginnings and ends to pieces; by the mid-19th-century, composer like Wagner blurred those lines, which allowed the action and music to flow seamlessly from one scene to the next. So it’s rare to find a piece like “O du mein holder Abendstern” – a complete aria, with a clear beginning and end, with poetic words that can be taken out of the action and not lose its integrity.

Tannhäuser was one of Wagner’s early operas, but the sound of this aria really captures the essence of his musical legacy – at least, the softer side of it.

When I hear the word “Abendstern” (Evening Star), I can’t help but think of the brightness of its opposite, the “Morgenstern” (Morning Star.)