On this day in 1851, Moby Dick was published in the US. It is one of the greatest books ever written – highly recommended reading! First, you learn that all sailors are lunatics. Then, you’ll learn all sorts of useless whale facts as you crawl through chapters of classification and lore. Lastly, you get to endure tens of thousands of words devoted to the slow mental deterioration of an already bonkers-crazy ship captain. (Joking aside, it is a truly marvelous work.)

George Crumb is an American composer whom I deeply admire for his ability to be avant-garde without being off-the-deep-end. He uses all sorts of unorthodox instruments (e.g. toy pianos, tape loops, electronic effects) and extended techniques (i.e. using an instrument in a non-traditional way, like singing into a flute or bowing on the wrong side of a violin bridge) in his music. Many composers have done this, but most fail at making music, and instead make something more akin to organized noise (if you like organized noise, that’s fine. I don’t. When I want to listen to organized noise, I turn on my washing machine.) Crumb, on the other hand, makes music – it is otherworldly, but often astoundingly beautiful.

Among his more famous works is Vox Balaenae, or voice of the whale. On one hand, it’s exactly what you might think – weird underwater “moos” like Dory does in Finding Nemo. But once you get past that, it’s oddly pleasing, calming, and brilliant. The entire work lasts 20 minutes, and is for masked performers (seriously) playing flute, cello, and piano. This video is the beginning of the piece, a flute solo with a little piano to set the mood – both using a lot of extended techniques!

And, unlike Moby Dick, you don’t have to invest hours into it before deciding you don’t like it and quitting. (Joking aside, it is a truly marvelous work.)

I had two different pieces lined up for today, depending on the outcome of the election. I have to admit that I really didn’t expect to be playing this one. We humans are strange indeed. If you’re happy with the election results, congratulations. If you’re saddened, music can be healing. This short piece of incidental music by Edvard Grieg speaks directly to the sore heart. Like most of the other movements of his Peer Gynt suite, it uses a simple four-measure melody that repeats a lot. The simplicity is refreshing, though – sometimes you just don’t have the energy to get involved with a long musical narrative.

Remember that humans are capable of creating things of beauty.

(Aase is Peer Gynt‘s mother.)

Musicians usually have a good sense of humor. Those who don’t are either at the very top or the very bottom of the music world.

A lot of educators use Camille Saint-Saëns‘ Carnival of the Animals as an introduction to Art Music for very young listeners. The lesson usually goes like this:

TEACHER: Ok class, we’re going to listen to some music now. (plays music) Now what did that make you think of?
STUDENT #1: I have a dog named muffin.
TEACHER: That’s nice. Does it remind you of anything?
STUDENT #2: It sounds like SpongeBob.
TEACHER: Well, this music is about an animal! What animal does it make you think of?
STUDENT #3: A Velociraptor.
TEACHER: Don’t you think it sounds like chickens?
STUDENT #4: I think I’m going to throw up.
TEACHER: Let’s do some coloring instead.

Saint-Saëns piece is delightful enough to be enjoyed by little ones, but has some wicked humor in it aimed at adults. Among the “animals” that he paints with music are: Elephants, Donkeys, Birds, Pianists, People with Long Ears (i.e. music critics), and Fossils. He satirically quotes dozens of musical compositions throughout the work: his own Danse Macabre as well as Berlioz’ Faust, Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, Offenbach’s Can-Can, Rossini’s Barber of Seville, and more.

This election year was horrible on so many accounts. Without humor I would have crawled away into a cave until it was all over. So, go vote today, and in the meantime, enjoy “Elephants” and “Donkeys”.