Despite a short life, Griffes purchased his immortality by leaving a fair amount of music behind. His compositions stand out in early 20th-century American Art Music because of his French impressionist flavor (most composers at this time were modeling German styles), and his taste for the exotic scales and sounds(very much related to impressionism.)
His Poem for Flute and Orchestra is just beautiful; perhaps it is an homage to Debussy‘s Afternoon of a Faun. I think its success is due to 1) the use of the low register of the flute, which gives the piece a dark, mysterious color and 2) the aforementioned impressionist harmonies that keep us suspended over ever-changing tonal centers. What else is there to say?
(continuing the celebration of this blog’s birthday)
If you search for inspirational quotes about music, you will come up with a shitload, er, treasure trove of insipid, er, heartwarming phrases. Joking aside, it is fascinating that our species wastes so much energy on making air molecules vibrate in specific ways – so much so that some people do nothing but make music for a living (depending on your definition of “making a living“).
If cheesy phrases like “music is what feelings sound like” make your eyes roll, then I have good news for you! The great bard himself (Shakespeare) penned a poem about music in The Merchant of Venice. Many composers have set these words, but the most famous is Vaughan-Williams – a Serenade to Music.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There’s not the smallest orb that thou behold’st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn! With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear, And draw her home with music. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. The reason is, your spirits are attentive – The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Music! hark! It is your music of the house. Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. Silence bestows that virtue on it How many things by season season’d are To their right praise and true perfection! Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion And would not be awak’d. Soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony.
The Roman god Janus is the deity of doors, gates, beginnings – basically any point that marks a transition from one state to another. The month of January is named after this god, being the start of a new year.
Tomorrow, this blog will have reached its birthday. It is now over 100,000 words – about as many as Huckleberry Finn, but only half of Moby Dick. I certainly haven’t written a great work of literature here, but even so, The Fine Art of Listening is now a rather large opus.
So as I approach this milestone, this doorway to the future, let’s take a grand, celebratory stroll through Mussorgsky‘s Gate of Kiev.
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