The Faust legend is a popular one, having been told by many different authors in many different versions throughout the centuries. In short, Faust sells his soul to the devil (Mephistopheles, or Mephisto) for worldly pleasures. Like many romantic composers, Franz Liszt loved this story, so much so that he wrote a Faust Symphony for orchestra as well as a handful of Mephisto Waltzes for piano (which, like most of Liszt’s piano music, are devilishly difficult to play). The most famous (the first) tells a story of Faust and Mephistopheles walking by a village inn; Mephistopheles starts playing the fiddle, and Faust seduces a young woman, before running off with her into the woods …
The notion of observing Indigenous Peoples’ Day is quickly gaining momentum, and will probably soon eliminate Columbus Day altogether. Its first official celebration was, ironically, on the 500th anniversary of Columbus’ voyage, in 1992, in the form of a protest.
Like any other human culture, Native Americans have been making music for thousands of years. Sadly, with the decimation of their nations and people, there are only a handful of living Native American composers today. The good news is that efforts are being made to promote and encourage music by Native American composers, especially by the First Nations Composer Initiative, part of the American Composers Forum. One of the Institute’s advisors is Jerod Impichchaachaaha’ Tate, a member of the Chickasaw, who were among the tribes who walked the infamous trail of tears.
This work by Tate is a longer listen, but well worth it. The following description (slightly shortened) comes from Tate’s website:
Iholba’ (The Vision) is a work inspired by the composer’s native Chickasaw culture…. The musical material for Iholba is based on a Chickasaw Garfish Dance song and work is sung in the Chickasaw language. The text is original poetry by the composer…. The work is in two movements, entitled Halbina’ (The Gift) and Iholba’ (The Vision)…. Iholba’ is dedicated to my grandmother, Juanita Foshi’ Keel Tate.
Don’t do drugs, kids. But if you do, do it like Scriabin.
Alexander Scriabin wrote plenty of perfectly normal pieces; he was a brilliant pianist who wrote his own set of piano preludes and etudes, similar to the great Chopin and Liszt. But once he turned 25, things began to get weird. He developed his own system of harmony based on the whole tone and octatonic scales. At the time, this was edgy, but not groundbreaking; it makes his music sound similar to French impressionism. What sets Scriabin apart is his synesthesia, the “color organ” he invented, his devotion to Theosophy, his rambling writings, and his wild music inspired by religious visions. His two most famous pieces are the Poem of Fire and the Poem of Ecstasy.
Scriabin himself approved this description of The Poem of Ecstasy, which will describe it far better than I:
The Poem of Ecstasy is the Joy of Liberated Action. The Cosmos, i.e., Spirit, is Eternal Creation without External Motivation, a Divine Play of Worlds. The Creative Spirit, i.e., the Universe at Play, is not conscious of the Absoluteness of its creativeness, having subordinated itself to a Finality and made creativity a means toward an end. The stronger the pulse beat of life and the more rapid the precipitation of rhythms, the more clearly the awareness comes to the Spirit that it is consubstantial with creativity itself. When the Spirit has attained the supreme culmination of its activity and has been torn away from the embraces of teleology and relativity, when it has exhausted completely its substance and its liberated active energy, the Time of Ecstasy shall arrive.
Recent Comments