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.)

We humans naturally compare our lives to the world around us – the start of life at spring, the fruits of summer, the autumnal decline, the dead winter. We find these cycles in many different aspects of our lives, not to mention our own existence. November, therefore, might be a time when we prepare for death, Thanksgiving, like a joyous last meal. Some people find this morbid, but, I find it comforting. Why else would we devote so much time and energy surrounding the end of our lives if not to bring some peace? We have religious practices to prepare us, social rituals to go through to help us through the loss of a loved one, and of course, art!

Johannes Brahms was utterly heartbroken when his mother died; he nursed his spirit back to health by writing what has become one of his best-loved works, his German Requiem.

Brahms’ mother died in February 1865; by the end of the year, he had written most of the Requiem. It is not a liturgical work – it is better described as a sacred concert work. It is a collection of Bible verses, sung in German, that gently take the listener through the stages of grief. Eighteen months later, Brahms completed a movement for soprano solo – some say it is his mother’s voice, singing from heaven:

And ye now therefore have sorrow; but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice …
as one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.

Perhaps Brahms had finally come to terms with his mother’s passing.

It is necessary to note that Brahms was an agnostic; still, he chose to set religious texts. I don’t think this is that bizarre, really. Plenty of people with no religious beliefs will arrange for a religious funeral for themselves or a loved one. Even if the belief isn’t there, comfort can be found in moving through the rituals. You don’t need to understand German or be a Christian for this music to move you to tears. It is simply a human work – which I believe is exactly what Brahms intended.

For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away.

Happy Veterans Day!

I am humbled when I think about those in the armed forces, willingly putting themselves in danger for the welfare of others. They have more bravery than I could ever have, and I am thankful for their service and sacrifice.

American composer John Adams set Walt Whitman‘s “The Wound Dresser” for voice and orchestra. It is a lengthy and emotional narrative, in the tradition of Barber‘s Knoxville: Summer of 1915 (listen to it here). Musically, it’s somewhere between an opera and a song cycle, and the text ranges from fine poetry to graphic description. It’s a longer listen, but well worth it, especially on this day. Whitman wrote his poem shortly after the Civil War, 150 years ago. Only 100 years ago, the Great War ravaged much of the world. And World War II was so horrific that we are still in shock concerning the horrors of the holocaust and atomic bomb. Take a mere 20 minutes, have a listen, and give thanks for our soldiers.