I've written at least three or four long blogpost essays nobody reads about how Bach's place in music is overvalued, and I really don't want to write a fifth, but there is something about Bach that, to me, is too heavenly, too divorced from the human experience, too, as we Jews say, 'goyish.' When you get to know Mozart and Beethoven's music, they take on the quality of old friends, but when you get to know Bach, both the glory and the weakness of it is that it never stops being an extraordinary experience. The music is too perfect. There's expression aplenty in Bach, but it's not human expression, it's the expression of divine beings. These divine beings might feel compassion for our suffering, but they can't relate to it, and they rarely ever seem to relieve it. Furthermore, where's the humor in Bach? And most importantly, where's the fallibility? You can search far and wide for a compositional weakness in Bach, and you might find one every million measures. That, as far as I'm concerned, is the ultimate compositional weakness. It's like music assembled by a kind of celestial computer coding. He was so masterful at counterpoint that through his counterpoint he practically created the common harmonic language we use to this day.
But this was entirely an accident. Very few composers knew more than a few pieces by Bach until Mendelssohn worked mightily to revive him in the 1830s to a fame Bach never had in his lifetime, and performed Bach with a seraphic beauty which was antithetical to instruments and performing style of Bach's period. The Bach of the Romantic era was a completely different composer, grounded in harmony rather than counterpoint. As a personal interjection, when I hear Bach performed on original instruments, rendered little different from a generically excellent composer of the Baroque period, I wonder if I understand why Bach's employers in Leipzig offered Bach's job to Telemann or Graupner before him.
Bach's music is pure counterpoint and harmony, there is no flash, there is not even really a style of which one can speak. There is only pure substance; as the musicologist Jan Swafford put it, nobody ever wrote better notes than Bach. In the same way that Immanuel Kant is often considered pure analysis and thought and system that gives little consideration to stylistic clarity or common wisdom for layman readers, the vast, vast majority of Bach's is a pure contrapuntal and harmonic thought that gives little thought to instrumental color or rhythm. Both were revolutions for the humanities that gave them something like the rigor of science and for this pseudo-intellectual, both revolutions achieved more rewarding results when their successors turned their soft science back into art.
Whether it was actually Bach who actually codified common practice tonality or a combination of Bach, Handel, Vivaldi, Scarlatti, Rameau, Telemann, Pachebel, Froberger, Graupner, Kuhnau, and who knows how many other composers, what is much less deniable is that it's Haydn who first utilized how to use common practice tonality to the best effect. His symphonies, his string quartets, his piano trios, are little dramas of harmony. Platonic dialogues carried out in sound between two musical characters who propose ideas that seem to contradict each other in every way, but they work through every conceivable implication of their ideas until they can arrive at some kind of resolution, some synthesis, some livable compromise that allows life to go on.
The Symphony, Haydn's great contribution to the literature of the world, and arguably the greatest of all artistic contributions because it's literally the only place in the world where philosophy and abstract thought has demonstrable physical presence, is about the continuity of life, the pacification of the spirit. Perhaps I'm too much a fundamentalist in this regard, but having just taught a course on symphonies, I'm more in awe of them than ever before. I believe that in a way that songs and operas and ballets never could, absolute music gives us a way of coping with life's vicissitudes. If Greek tragedy is a ritual that purges us of our emotional tensions and repressions, then the grand symphonic tradition gives voice to those emotional tensions and repressions which are too primal for us to attach words. And when we hear them, we understand that there are dimensions out there where our anguish and contraditions are understood, and a place, somewhere in the universe, where they can be resolved. And knowing, as we now do, that there is a chance for some kind of resolution in some far off place, whether it's heaven, or somewhere in the elements of the universe, or simply in the dimension of music, we're free to look at the dimensions of life with much more equanimity, and solve our personal problems without the weight of unresolved passions bearing down on us. The problems of this world were never meant to be transcended, but thanks to music, we can direct the human urge to transcendence to the only dimension we know of where transcendence is truly possible, and the place where it's most possible is the symphony. And the transcendent possibility of the symphony begins with Haydn.
Beginning of Haydn 44 "Trauer" 3rd movement (Fricsay/RIAS)
And yet, in order to get to transcendence in the manner which we get in so many later symphonies, were the symphony becomes like a battleground of diminished and minor chords against which major-key happiness and triumph has to emerge transcendent, we first need the Haydn formula in which music is a conversation between light and darkness. Like in every high comedy, The Simpsons for example, every dark sentiment has to be immediately balanced so that the darkness isn't taken too seriously. In such a world where the imagination can't allow itself to get too turbulent, it's inevitable that formula creeps in. Just think of the Simpsons after Season 8 or 9...
In Haydn's case, his later Simpsons episodes came earlier in his career, when he was still figuring out how to make symphonies into immortal masterworks. Some of them have innovations that are truly astonishing, but with a number of exceptions, don't assume that early Haydn is as interesting as lots of musicologists want us to believe. There's no reason to listen to all 104-and-change Haydn symphonies. Start by listening to the last twelve, the London Symphonies, 93-104, when Haydn polished his equanimity of expression and wit to an agility that seems to float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Then, perhaps, listen to his Paris Symphonies, 82-87, which are meant as grander statements for a larger orchestra, proto-Beethovenian perhaps though Haydn could have no way of knowing - and yet chamber orchestras always play them. Fill in the gap with the five symphonies in between 88-92, fulfilled for other commissions, and many people feel #88 is the greatest of all - though for those who care I'd probably put it in the top 5 with 92, 98, 100 and 103. Then listen to all the 'Name' symphonies. 29 of Haydn's symphonies have names. So far as I know, Haydn never gave any of his symphonies a name, but if a Haydn symphony has a name, that means that the symphony made an impression on someone over the last 200 years, and thought enough of it to call it something unique. Past there, there are a few worth getting to know, but as a homework assignment, I think that's more than enough.
Haydn, having capped his symphonic achievement with Symphony #104, a perfect fusion of light and darkness, has nowhere else to take the symphony after 1795. Anything after Haydn 104 would be a formula. The Symphony, taking place both in a world of metaphysical abstraction and also pitched to an aristocratic audience of this world, cannot at this time be heard to suffer unless the suffering is balanced evenly by joy. But the world itself was suffering - in the Reign of Terror after the French Revolution roughly 40,000 died with 20,000 sent to the guillotine, followed by the Vendee Rebellion, which may have killed 700,000 Frenchmen, along with all the various revolutions that make up the total French Civil Wars from 1789 to 1801, in which a probable total of 1.4 million died. We then follow this with nineteen years of Napoleonic War, the highest estimate being that six million died in those. Haydn's symphonies had no way of coming to terms with a world in which such bloodshed was so visible, but his choral music.... (Nelson Mass Opening First 50 seconds/Peterson/Oslo Camerata)
Sacred music, particularly the Mass, is pitched to God and Christ and the Holy Ghost and the Virgin Mother, and are precisely about the transfiguration of suffering. What we just heard was the beginning of what we now call the Lord Nelson Mass, named for Britain's heroic Admiral who lost his arm and then his life in the Napoleonic Wars. The Latin title is "Missa in Angustiis", or Mass for Anguished Times. It was written in 1798, and can be seen as a sequel to Haydn's mass of the year before, the Mass in Time of War which begins in serenity and ends in terrible turmoil. The Mass for Anguished Times is consistently dark in a spirit that perhaps no other of Haydn's voluminous works shares. Early in Haydn's career came the Sturm und Drang period, and while that could get very dark, it was the kind of darkness you could mistaken for an Italian Baroque composer like Vivaldi - it had a more virtuosic, almost erotic charge to it. The only real precedent for it is Mozart's unfinished Requiem and the hellish scenes of Don Giovanni. Even Mozart's 40th symphony has nothing on this. 1798 is seven years after Mozart's death, five years before Beethoven's Eroica. At this point in history, Beethoven is still known far better as a pianist. Austria, perhaps the world, had only one verifiable musical genius to articulate the spirit of the times, and the spirit of the times were only getting darker.
The elderly Haydn was a seasoned traveller who'd spent much time feted in France and England, but he was forever a loyal subject to the Austrian Crown and the Holy Roman Empire without a subversive bone in his body. He was descended from Flemings and Croats, but the fate of Austria, it's triumphs and tragedies, were his. The Austria of his generation, ruled by Empress Maria Theresa, deeply Catholic, conservative, and declining, depleted first by the War of Austrian Succession in the 1740's, then by Prussia's conquering of Silesia, the most profitable Austrian province, in 1756, meant that the Austria of the time, like so many declining powers, turn especially to culture because they have to find their pride in something other than political achievement. Thanks to Haydn, they found it in music.
And while France, the most successfully absolute of all absolute monarchies, had been the dominant political power of the Western world and arguably the whole world from the early 17th century to the mid 18th, they began a precipitous political decline in 1740 with the War of Austrian Succession, exploited brilliantly by Frederick the Great of Prussia, who acceeded to the Prussian throne in exactly the same year. As France became ever more decadent, her intellectual accomplishments only increased and the age of the Encyclopédistes began. Frederick the Great did not want Prussia to be a great military power for its own sake, he wanted Prussia to be like France - not a new Sparta but a new Athens - a center of center of thought and culture. A glory for its monarch not only because its military power but for its intellectual prowess. Frederick the Great achieved great political power very easily. But it took the German speaking lands another hundred years to turn Frederick the Great's political capital into an intellectual achievement that excelled even France's, an achievement whose center was music, an art which France's Rococo period thought generally trivial and ornamental. But the very same political and intellectual achievements that propelled France to the center of the universe lead it off the cliff into a generation of decadence, and then a generation long calamity. A full lifetime after the Napoleonic Wars ended, World War I began - a noxious cocktail in which the very accomplishments of Germany and Austria, the two countries most known for the greatness of their culture, were what pushed them over the edge. After the unification of Germany in 1871 came a generation of decadence, and then a generation of barbarism more cataclysmic than any the world had ever known.
We in America are nearly a lifetime after that conclusion of that horrific generation, and the attainments of American deeds dwarf even 18th century France. I don't need to tell you that after the Cold War ended in '89, America has grown ever more decadent politically, with no two people agreeing on what the country's priorities should be. And yet, while we grow farther apart politically and morally, our intellectual achievements are larger than ever before. It may not be a golden age for humanities or culture, at least I don't think so. But who could ever possibly deny that this is THE unprecedented golden age of technology and science. We've created the internet of course and created computers that currently process more than a quadrillion actions per second, we've invented hybrid automobiles and cars that don't run on oil at all are not far behind, we can implant artificial memories, we can teleport protons, we desalinate water, and we've mapped the entire human genome. We can give sight to the blind, put cameras in pills to map our innards painlessly, we can turn generic cells into stem cells that can generate into any body part at all.
But the Golden Ages of France and Germany were precisely ended by their very greatest deeds. 18th Century France believed that reason would enable us to solve our problems. Reason lead them to the conclusion that all the world had to find was a better system of governing itself, and problems would cease - which lead many of their children to ask: if there's a better system out there, why is nobody enacting it yet? 19th Century Germany believed that culture would lead them to the deepest truths about the universe. Culture lead them to the conclusion that by tending so conscientiously to their glorious culture, Germans had found these deeper truths, and the reason no other country was tending so conscientiously to their culture was because they were incapable of it - which lead many of their children to ask - if they're not capable of seeing the world as deeply as we do, doesn't that mean we deserve the world more than they do? Modern Americans believe that liberty will allow us to live our best possible lives. It's lead us to the conclusion that we have only rights and no responsibilities to those around us whom we deem unworthy of our responsibility. And this may lead our children to ask: if people are unworthy of our responsibility, why don't we simply let them die?
The world always has other plans, and the very qualities which propel civilizations to their greatest achievements also bring about their final apocalypse.
(Whole track - McCreesh - the evocation of chaos)
That was the beginning of The Creation, the 1790's evocation of primeval chaos that is sounds both quaintly unlike chaos to our ears, and is incredibly, eternally advanced for the 1790s. When in England, Haydn was allowed to look through the telescope of the Royal Society - no doubt looked through at times by Robert Hooke, Edmund Halle, and Newton himself. The world, suddenly, was not only the perfectly monadized and mechanized best of all possible places, but a nebulous universe, full of uncertainty principles and relativity, and perhaps he realized that the world was more a reflection of the universe than his peasant-educated mind had ever allowed it to be.
This chaos of the cosmos, the suffering it causes, the decline and deprivation, was surely something Austrians of the time knew so intimately. Austrians were not taken in by utopian delusions of the world being anything but what it is. While France was in thrall to Jean-Jacques Rousseau, with his notion that man is born free yet everywhere he is in chains; the German speaking lands were in thrall to the still very young Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, who wrote that what little freedom remains to humans so fills them with fear that they seek out any and every means to be rid of it. Rousseau yammers on and on about nature, yet he believes in reason. Goethe yammers on and on about reason, yet he believes in nature. In The Creation, Haydn seems to unite the two, listen to this nature painting, and when you do, try to remember that Haydn always tells you what text he has painted AFTER he's painted the words with music, not before.
Later Haydn sets animals too - lions, worms, gazelles, it's amazing stuff.
So the year is 1796, Napoleon would not yet be First Consul of the French Republic for another three years, and not crown himself Emperor of the French for another eight. But the decisive moment in the fortunes of the French republic came in this year with the appointment of this semi-Italian semi-soldier of fortune, not yet thirty years old, to be Commander in Chief of the French armies in Italy during the Wars of the First Coalition. The War of the First Coalition is basically France alone against Great Britain, Prussia, the Holy Roman Empire (meaning Austria at this point), Spain, and Holland - in addition to a few Italian city-states, all of which are terrified of the French Revolution spreading to their Empires as they would be for another hundred twenty years until even the upper classes were compelled by World War I to admit that sovereign monarchy is not a viable option in the chaos of the modern world.
In 1795, Napoleon prevents a coup d'etat in Paris with just a few garrisons. In 1796, Napoleon, now Commander-in-Chief of the French armies in Italy, marches his batallions all the way through Italy to meet with the French troops in stationed Tyrol, southern Austria, and then march on Vienna. In 1797, Napoleon sieges Mantua and the 18,000 Austrian soldiers stationed there surrender. He then conquers the Republic of Venice, which had been a city-state for an unbroken thousand years. As part of the peace treaty between France and Austria, they share joint control of Venice.
When Haydn began the Creation in 1796, Austria was at war. When he finished it, Austria was at peace. But surely, Haydn, like everybody else in Austria, knew that war was always a possibility. If the ancien regime could be laid waste in France, the most powerful state in the world, the establishment could be laid waste anywhere.
('Disorder yields' until 3:00)
The text Haydn really wanted to set was not the Creation story, but music for Milton's Paradise Lost, and I think you can hear the direction Haydn would go in that passage where angelic music yields to the demonic and back again in less than two minutes' span - no matter how light and bright Haydn's Creation is, it's still an awesome, terrifying work of Bosch or Blake-like art.
Now Haydn was no nobleman, he was the son of a wheelwright and a cook, who was always thankful that his father lived to see his son become the chief court musician of one of the world's most resplendent princes. Haydn 'made it' in life at an exceedingly early age, but what of all the friends and family whom success forced him to leave behind? In Joseph Roth's The Radetzky March, about the decline of the Austrian empire, there's a heartbreaking scene between the newly enobled Baron von Trotta, a war hero, and his father, a simple Slovenian solder. Now that the Baron is a nobleman, codes of honor prevent him from behaving like like the peasant he still was at heart, or from sharing any of his true feelings with his father. They couldn't joke together, they couldn't reminisce, they couldn't show each other any of the love that doubtless was in their hearts. They had nothing left to say to each other, and disappeared from each other's lives into loneliness.
Haydn was generally a very cheerful man, and if his music is indication, was about as un-neurotic as a genius ever was. But how could even he, the rock star of his time who owed all his success to the aristocracy, have looked at the French Revolution and not realize that the French Revolution fought for the dignity of his parents, his brothers and sisters, his boyhood friends, of all the people he loved before he ever knew the good fortune that would be his lot? He practically paid tribute to them in every symphony, which ostensibly contained courtly dances, but the peasant fever is everywhere! Listen to the beginning of the finale from Haydn's 82nd Symphony - also known as The Bear because it's supposedly sounds like the awkward - and no doubt cruel to our modern perceptions cruel - way peasants make bears lurch as though they're dancing.
(Haydn 82 - finale until 26:27)
And yet, Haydn seems to give these people whom aristocrats see as crude, these new men and women, a full dignity and honor that gives each of these human creatures, created in the divine image, a small piece of the divine right of kings, to claim equality, fraternity, liberty, life, and the pursuit of happiness.
(The Creation: 'By thee' - McCreesh
Note to Zach the Engineer: I originally I substituted a different recording from the one in the original audio track because the words were more comprehensible. At first I didn't want to use it because it was two minutes longer, but the words are inaudible in the other recording.)
Haydn's world was dying, and yet his world was coming alive. Every employer ever to hire him worried of losing their heads; and yet, as the the France-dominated world of absolute monarchy erupted in blood, a new world of bourgeois liberalism began a few short years after Haydn's death in 1809. After the Napoleonic wars ended in 1815, no major power emerged with more prosperity than Austria - already prudent and chastened by the living memories of defeat. And from the dual revolutions of America and France began the long process of liberation and equality for all those people who existed as the footstools of those aristocrats.
Music is the artform of democracy. There is no understanding of language needed - oral or written. All it takes is the ability to hear it, and it transcends every barrier of communication. It should not be surprising that in this long nineteenth century, marked by so many democratic revolutions, music that was loved by millions took on a complexity that is rarely seen in the mainstream of today's cultural discourse outside of technological developments.
'In The Beginning' (McCreesh)
The Creation is a poem unlimited in which the entire universe is made present in all its manifestations. Sublime church music with street music, tragedy and comedy, the loftiest beings against lowly men and still lower animals and plant life. We have no idea if the chaos before God said 'Let There Be Light' was an eternal chaos or if there was an eternal return and a previous universe dissolved into chaos. But The Creation posits eternal return, it is the work of a society destroyed, and then reborn.
How stand we in the revolutions of 2017 - Occupy Wall Street, Black Lives Matter, Me Too. Make no mistake, these are revolutionary movements, and inevitably, they provoke counterrevolutions and I needn't tell you what those are either. Those who know me personally know that I've been very hard on these revolutionary movements and the people who subscribe to them, no doubt most friends would say too hard, most family would say not hard enough. These are movements that agitate for revolution no less than Marxists agitated for revolution in the decades leading up to World War I. The entire establishment is terrified of them, and the more traction they gain, and there's no question they'll gain much, much more traction in the decades to come, the establishment will hit back - big business, lobbyists, the 80% of legislators on all levels whom to varying extents are in their pockets, and, of course, their lower-middle-class who are their unwitting servants and soldiers. All of them, the forces of reaction.
But for better or worse, I've come to realize that the Universe is chaos, the universe is perpetual revolution, revolution cannot be prevented any more than counter-revolution. They go together like yin and yang, they define each other perpetually, and the more one gains power, the more the other inevitably does too. Our only hope, and it's always a very small hope indeed, is to convince enough people that gradual reform is our best hope, because in war and revolution, nobody is in control. Whatever you thought you were fighting for at the beginning, you're fighting for something extremely different at the end. The new created world that springs up at God's command will not be yours to enjoy, it may not even be your children or grandchildren, who can lose their lives just in the maelstrom just as easily as you. It is for some abstract, meaningless, distant future person who can no more relate to your concerns than you can to the concerns of someone in 1796.
And yet, look around, who can possibly deny that all these intersectionalists and critical theorists and neo-Marxists who now believe in systemic cultural oppression the way Marxists once believed in systemic class oppression, are not almost completely legitimate in any point that actually matters? Even if it's absurd pseudo-science to say as so many of them do that everything is ideology and social conditioning, look at the inequalities of finance, opportunity, and suffering, and dare to tell them that they have the same opportunities we do without feeling like a cretin.
Just as happened under Communism, I have no doubt that there will one day be nation states and Empires like the Soviet Union that enact their critical theories as gospel and dogma, and the results will be disastrous to a point past imagining. There will be states and empires like Germany who will arise in reaction, and may perpetrate still greater horrors. But there will also be states like the United States and England and France and Modern Germany who will be leavened and influenced by the insights of extremely sloppy and dangerous thinkers as Marx once was and like Fanon and Said and Laura Mulvey and Judith Butler and Naomi Klein, who have glimmers of genius that peak out amidst their charlatanry - just as Camille Paglia and Jordan Peterson do from the other side of the ideological spectrum. You don't have to be a good thinker to be a real thinker, but to be a bad thinker, you have to think in two dimensions rather than three. Even in two dimensions, you can have real insight, and illustrate an entirely new and useful way of looking at a three-dimensional world, but to apply the insights in anything but a three-dimensional context is a disaster every time it happens, and it always does. But just as the United States and those who followed suit found ways of incorporating social programs that took the best of socialism and communism while excising the dangerous elements, so will some countries one day find good ways of incorporating the best insights of social justice, intersectionality, deconstruction, hermeneutics, patriarchy, postcolonial studies, semiotics, mythopoetics, poststructuralism, and all those other mountains of bullshit which, against my will, I must admit have glimmers of true insight within their dangerous falsifications and may never have arisen had those of us in more powerful positions kept a more open heart, a more open mind, and a more open wallet.
But in all these places, no matter how dark, the world necessarily seems to go on, life goes on even if lives end prematurely, and in every place there will be light and dark, and amidst all the hopelessness, there will be great hope. What The Creation tells us is that being alive, in all its infinite manifestation, in every minute of joy, and in every longer minute of suffering, is the greatest of all possible gifts.
Praise the Lord - McCreesh