Beethoven's favourite toilets found in this bar: 135 of Symphony no. 4
At the start of every episode of BBC Radio 4's 'In Our Time', the host, Melvyn Bragg, introduces an interesting topic (usually something to do with a dead white man), and tells us he has some experts on hand to help us make sense of it. He then fights past a catalogue of speech impediments to ask of his experts:
“Can you tell me a little something about [dead white man]'s childhood?”
That is his point of entry. To him, and to many others, context is king. The biographies of his heroes add colour to the content, as well as drawing audiences into the programme. Sadly, I have discovered much the same approach in academic music texts. But instead of just being a point of entry, as it is for Melvyn, it's the full body-text, the footnotes, and the concluding remarks. The whole damn performance.
I was trying to unpick Beethoven's Eroica the other day and was getting nowhere with the liner notes, Wikipedia or my ancient Dad. So I visited a library and checked out a few books with 'Eroica' in the title. Flicking through them, I learned about Beethoven's horse, the height of his piano stool, and the name of his favourite delicatessen. But I didn't find out about what I perhaps naively call 'The Music'.
It is at this stage I should admit that I'm not a musicologist, nor a music buff. So maybe I was simply looking at the wrong books. Even so, the thought occurs to me: Should these books even exist? I'm not saying 'no', but I'm also most definitely not saying 'yes'.
Daniel Barenboim was asked by the BBC to talk about the biography of Beethoven. He refused to do so, saying that the biography of 'The Music' is more important than that of the man. He then changed his mind because he was on-air and he didn't want to seem like a dick. I however, am not on-air, and have no compunction whatsoever about seeming like a dick. So here goes: Reversing the natural separation of the creator from his creation makes arts criticism a kind of pop-psychology, and not even the cool kind depicted in The Sopranos. More like the guys who analyse handwriting for the crown prosecution service.
When the gentlemen in the doorway of the Theater an der Wien exclaimed after Eroica's premier “nothing will ever be the same again!”, were they aware of Beethoven's skin condition? Had they visited his favourite delicatessen? Or had they merely listened carefully to what happened on stage? You see, there is a far better methodology for understanding music. It's fairly technical, and its reliable. Berlioz used it in his very helpful book 'Critical Study of Beethoven's Nine Symphonies'. It's a familiar approach and you'll definitely recognise some of the headings: Melody, Harmony, Rhythm, Exposition, Modulation and Instrumentation.
I conclude with a pompous message from outside the Arts Faculty: When Einstein developed the Theory of Relativity, he was not studying Sir Isaac Newton's underpants.
“Can you tell me a little something about [dead white man]'s childhood?”
That is his point of entry. To him, and to many others, context is king. The biographies of his heroes add colour to the content, as well as drawing audiences into the programme. Sadly, I have discovered much the same approach in academic music texts. But instead of just being a point of entry, as it is for Melvyn, it's the full body-text, the footnotes, and the concluding remarks. The whole damn performance.
I was trying to unpick Beethoven's Eroica the other day and was getting nowhere with the liner notes, Wikipedia or my ancient Dad. So I visited a library and checked out a few books with 'Eroica' in the title. Flicking through them, I learned about Beethoven's horse, the height of his piano stool, and the name of his favourite delicatessen. But I didn't find out about what I perhaps naively call 'The Music'.
It is at this stage I should admit that I'm not a musicologist, nor a music buff. So maybe I was simply looking at the wrong books. Even so, the thought occurs to me: Should these books even exist? I'm not saying 'no', but I'm also most definitely not saying 'yes'.
Daniel Barenboim was asked by the BBC to talk about the biography of Beethoven. He refused to do so, saying that the biography of 'The Music' is more important than that of the man. He then changed his mind because he was on-air and he didn't want to seem like a dick. I however, am not on-air, and have no compunction whatsoever about seeming like a dick. So here goes: Reversing the natural separation of the creator from his creation makes arts criticism a kind of pop-psychology, and not even the cool kind depicted in The Sopranos. More like the guys who analyse handwriting for the crown prosecution service.
When the gentlemen in the doorway of the Theater an der Wien exclaimed after Eroica's premier “nothing will ever be the same again!”, were they aware of Beethoven's skin condition? Had they visited his favourite delicatessen? Or had they merely listened carefully to what happened on stage? You see, there is a far better methodology for understanding music. It's fairly technical, and its reliable. Berlioz used it in his very helpful book 'Critical Study of Beethoven's Nine Symphonies'. It's a familiar approach and you'll definitely recognise some of the headings: Melody, Harmony, Rhythm, Exposition, Modulation and Instrumentation.
I conclude with a pompous message from outside the Arts Faculty: When Einstein developed the Theory of Relativity, he was not studying Sir Isaac Newton's underpants.