The Fine Art of Listening

“What is this? Now there is something one can learn from!” That’s a huge compliment, especially as it was uttered by the arrogant Mozart when he heard the music of J. S. Bach.

The six motets of Johann Sebastian Bach are beautiful beyond measure, perfectly composed, and fiendishly difficult to sing. “Der Geist hilf unser Schwachheit auf” (The Spirit gives aid to our weakness) was composed for a funeral, but the text is equally perfect for the Christian day of Pentecost – the day the Holy Spirit descended upon the disciples and the birthday of the Church. The piece begins with the double-chorus singing back and forth to each other, like the biblical “rush of wind” that occurred on the first Pentecost. A fugue follows, as a sort of response to the fiery opening section – listen for the constant hissing of different s’s, again, giving the effect of rushing wind, or perhaps speaking in tongues. The motet closes with a sweet setting of a hymn which Martin Luther wrote for Pentecost, and would have been well known by any 18th century German Protestant.

0:00 – double-chorus singing in dialogue
The Spirit gives aid to our weakness, for we know not what we should pray for as we ought; but the Spirit itself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

We all have different music we seek out when we are in a particular mood. When you’re itching for a certain song, piece, or genre, take a second and think: what is driving you to that music? Nostalgia, passion, love, sadness, joy, weariness?

What a piece of music means to one person might be completely different to another. One person finds a song to be deep, meaningful, and sacred to his/her soul; another enjoys the same song because it is “hummable”; another person finds it shallow and trite. Can one be right, and the others wrong? Can two, or all three be right at the same time? Does the composer of a piece, or the performers, have any say in what is being expressed, or is beauty simply in the ear of the beholder? Is there a universal beauty? Does it even matter what the composer or performer is expressing? Does it matter what the audience response is? If a composer’s intention doesn’t evoke the correct response in the listener (even if the response is a positive one), is the piece a failure? Does the composer even matter, or is s/he just a random collection of carbon-based molecules that happened to arrange dots on a page in a way that causes musicians to move their limbs in a certain matter which causes air to vibrate which tickles some weird nerves in our ears?

I could go on, but I’ve said enough. Being a human is confusing at times. At some point, we need to let go of all that, embrace our humanity, and just dive into what lifts us out of the muck and mire.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7etjqZmAGs

 

Friday the 13th. How many bad things could happen today?

Instead of a traditional “listen to this” post, I’m going to bend to popular culture and put give a list of fails, not because we need a laugh at someone else’s expense, but because, well, it happens. We’ve all had a day where fate seems to be against us and we screw up big time. The real test is not whether we screw up or not, it’s in how we pick ourselves up afterwards and move on gracefully.

Speaking of picking ourselves up, that’s exactly what this unfortunate tenor has to do.

I really admire this guy, because under the high-stress of being onstage, trying to remember his words, notes, choreography, and acting, his fall only stops him for a second, and then he’s back on task – and look at the great response from the audience. We’ve been there, man, we’ve all been there.

Equipment malfunction is a major cause of musical disaster. Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do except put down your instrument and try to look good.

Hey, it happens.

And of course, the classic “sheet music falls off the stand” disaster – always at the pivotal moment of your performance, too.

It happens; bravo to this timpanist who keeps his cool and doesn’t miss a note.

And then, sometimes the malfunction doesn’t have to do with the equipment itself, but because the musician doesn’t know how to use the equipment – like this organist who accidentally hits a transposing button at the most important and iconic part of Handel’s Messiah.

It happens. Bad luck to this organist that s/he was playing the loudest instrument at the loudest moment of a loud piece when “it” hit the fan.

But then, sometimes you screw up because you’ve been drinking. Even if you don’t know Bolero, you can probably spot the errors.

We’ve been there. Keep calm and carry on making music.