K. 24, 8 Variations of Laat ons Juichen, Batavieren

K. 24, 8 Variations of Laat ons Juichen, Batavieren

I rambled on this one trying to figure out what I had to say.  Not sure if I even fully knew. 

I had mentioned in a previous blurb: on one of those singing talent shows, judges emphasized the need to hear a singer’s interpretation of a popular song.  What does that mean? Really?!  (I don’t watch these shows to often, but this concept must be a theme.)  Most of the time we have the first version stuck in our heads anyway. Why redo it?  Then to top it off, these shows put pressure on their contestants stating that they have to pick the right song that fits their personality. That impress the crowds.

What about songs that state what they have to say?

What am I trying to say? I don’t know.  Are even these words just the same recycled themes as those I’m shunning?

We’re all fighting to find the new different, but is there really anything new?

Don’t get me wrong.  Playing around with the established is a great exercise, but does anyone ever achieve lasting greatness that way? By greatness, I mean fame.  A lasting fame.  Mozart as a child was clearly famous.  The news reports about various child prodigies from time to time, but do we ever find out what happened to them as adults? Even if we do, do they go down in history?

How do these ponderings even remotely relate to Laat ons Juichen, Batavieren?

This was a popular song in The Netherlands and Mozart wrote eight variations of the tune. Clearly, playing with the established has practical benefits.  But, it has its artistic merits as well.  Working with the esteemed often forces us to zot neurons that may have never been stimulated otherwise. And thus, we might discover something new.  Often rebellion or a superior sense of self keeps us from such discoveries.

Laat ons Juichen, Batavieren may have been such an exercise for Mozart.  A discovery of what moods he could stir with a single melody.  With each variation, my moods shifted as follows:

1. A straightforward playing with little harmony.  The melody sounds like the old hymn Wonderful Savoir.  The mood is of an awed reflection. 

2. Joyful reflection.

3. A hopeful smile.

4. The added complexity suggests a celebration with friends and family invited.

5. Prancing with arms in the air.

6. Skipping and frolicking on an autumn trail.

7. A melancholy smile reflecting thanksgiving.

8. Waltzing with one’s beloved.

Sure, it is true, that working to impress others can be the source of discovery, but it can also be problematic.  First, the question of whom to impress arises.  Mozart did not have to decide at that age.  The primary target was his father, the secondary, those his father wanted to impress.   Everyone has a target crowd.  But, who is really worth catering to? Are individuals supposed to go around like politicians, changing tactics in order to gain artistic experience?

Second, typecasting.  When one devotes numerous hours into one region of talent, it becomes hard to grow beyond it.  Mozart had been branded as a child prodigy.  Leopold lied about his son’s age to extend that brand.  But, it could never be a sustainable brand.  Mozart would eventually have to grow up.

Last, if one wants to something great, he or she has to venture beyond what others request or expect.  Not too many people will remember that one guy who sung that one song that one time.  But, just ask people, “Who’s the King of Rock and Roll?”  We remember those who discover the new different. Even once someone has created something new, it may likely take time for someone to appreciate it.  Some artist’s don’t even get validation within their lifetime. 

Then, fact is, just because something is different doesn’t mean it is quality. (It’s quite subjective. I realize.)  Discovering breakthrough work without creating overreaching wannabe garbage is an anvil to the cranium headache. However, Mozart did it, in spite of his father’s nagging to stick with the popular.