Being involved in Art Music often is an experience that produces an oceanic feeling – a sense that we are connected to the past, present, and future, to people around the world, to the entire universe, perhaps. Music has to be experienced in order for it to be music and not just noise. It’s the old “if a tree falls in the woods and nobody is there to hear it” game. Whether the music is performed live, recorded, or in the imagination of a person’s brain, it is the human experience that makes it music and not merely vibrating air molecules (or imagined vibrating air molecules).

So every time you hear a piece by a dead composer, you’re still hearing the present, even if you sense a window to the past. And when you hear a new piece by a living composer, you might envision future audiences being moved by the same strains long after you’re gone. Still, you’re in the present, and the music is in the present.

It is part of the human experience to acknowledge that we are finite. Maybe music is one of the things we turn to because we want something to be infinite; we want a piece of our life experience to exist after we have departed from the world. And that’s when the oceanic feelings come sweeping into the heart.

This week I heard a brand new piece for organ and timpani by Kurt Knecht. The title – Toccata, Adagio, & Fugue – reminds us of a famous piece from the past by the same name by Johann Sebastian Bach. So even though I heard no Bach, in a sense, I still experienced Bach’s legacy. But despite the traditional title and forms, the piece has a harmonic and rhythmic edge – something fresh and exciting – that was emphasized by the untraditional instrumentation: organ and percussion. In the present, I was sitting by the composer himself, and next to one of Philadelphia’s most famous composers, as we heard music organized in a way never heard before (well, except in the composer’s head). In the future – who can really say? The musical ideas are recorded on paper and the piece has a chance at immortality. Even so, the notes on the paper are just dots – and the music itself must be somehow be in the present to become real.

What a thrill to be a part of a continuous, living, evolving, history of music!

Kurt is also a co-founder of MusicSpoke, a music publisher which is nothing short of revolutionary.

Nineteen years ago today, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s (Sorcerer’s) Stone was published – and talk about a fast path to fame. In barely ten years, the series went from small potatoes to worldwide obsession; J. K. Rowling went from nobody (it was her first book!) to a household name. And, as with every hit new book, a movie adaptation is inevitable.

When the first film was made in 2001, the book series was only half-way through. The filmmakers had enough foresight to know that this series would only get bigger and bigger; so they didn’t cut corners when it came to music – no less than the legendary John Williams would score the movie! While perhaps not his move amazing composition, it still carries his tell-tale marks: a memorable, melodic main theme (heard at the beginning of this video); repetitive song forms; contrasting orchestration to help define sections; an assortment of harmonic and orchestration “tricks” that you can hear in any of his blockbuster films (for example, at 0:39, the impression of “flying” given by buzzing strings can also be found in E.T., or at 1:36, it is remarkable similar to the X-Wing “fanfare” music in Star Wars).

Hats off to Harry Potter and to John Williams!

The Summer Solstice,  Midsummer, and specifically, June 24th, are associated with John the Baptist, the cousin, forerunner, and baptizer of Jesus, born six months before his more famous cousin (whose birth is very much associated with the Winter Solstice.)

The story of the death of John the Baptist is revolting and twisted. That means, naturally, that it makes a smashingly good opera. Richard Strauss‘ one-act opera, Salome, is based on a play by no less than Oscar Wilde. Here’s the plot, in a nutshell:

1. King Herod asks his niece (Salome) for a lap dance
2. She agrees to do it in exchange for the head of John the Baptist on a plate
3. She dances, and yes, it’s awkward
4. John’s head is served
5. Salome sings a love song and proceeds to kiss John’s severed head
6. Herod kills Salome – because Herod is clearly not sick and insane as well
7. Everyone goes to the lobby and throws up

Now that’s entertainment! Musically, the opera is Strauss at his very best – lush and romantic, but edgy and unpredictable. This video is the very end of the opera, when Salome sings her love to John’s head. The music is gorgeous and moving, but every time you get caught up in the moment, you remember that this is a girl singing to a bloody head.

At 3:56 you can hear a textbook example of bitonality – music that is simultaneously in two keys.