Zaide, K. 344, Nur mutig, mein herze,

Nur mutig, mein herze

So why am I on such a Zaide kick? There are lots of reasons. Dig closely into my blurbs for some. But often, we go through artistic phases based on philosophical… existential… queries. One theme that seems quite prevalent is the dystopian future. Sure, they play on our fears. Even this troglodyte at heart has to tame my own ‘prepper’ lusts. My wife has insulted me numerous times for suggesting that it may be a good idea to store a stockpile of dried beans and bullets. Yet, the modern dystopic stories, deep in their core, lack moral dilemmas.

"Hey troglodyte, how do you mean?" Some may say.

Hunger Games? Divergent? 1984 (An oldie). Etc. They all center on protagonists’ wrestling with a society so terrible, they have no other choice but to act. To rebel. Their rebellion is their only chance at survival, their only chance for a slice of pleasure, even though a slim chance. Maybe, that is the appeal. Sometimes, I wonder if deep down we want to be put in a position where we are forced to act. Passive action.  In this same manner, one could say that Gomatz is in this type of position. He has nothing to lose. His escape could be his only survival.

But… He is not the one facing a real moral dilemma.

Lately, I’ve been wrestling in my writings. (I’ve yet to have a hint of success).  I’ve created works centered on a utopic society. But, this society is propped via a corrupt reality. The protagonists wrestle with whether taking a stand is worthwhile, if it means ruining their lives. And, even crumbling the culture.

Then I come to a work like Zaide.

I’ve done some research on Ottoman slavery during Mozart’s time. Of course, we all abhor slavery (or at least should) but Ottoman slavery was… interesting? Many of the most powerful advisors and politicians were slaves. Particularly European slaves. And, during a time when women were downgraded, the wives of the harem had considerable power. Some were the most powerful people in the land.  All this power, yet still a slave. Hence, enters the moral dilemmas of Zaide. Both Zaide and Allazim had a good lot. (Even Osmin acknowledges it in his mocking.) But, are they willing to give it all up for a greater purpose? One can see why Zaide would take a risk for love. But what about Allazim? Why would he risk his life? His prosperity… Love? Possibly a even deeper love?

Nur mutig, mein herze reflects Allazim’s struggle. He has caught young, forbidden love, mid dance. His job is to punish, but he offers mercy. A mercy that could get him killed. In this aria, he fights his fears, trying to psych himself up to do what is right. With a fist pump, he finishes the aria with the phrase, ‘often the weak beat the strong.’ Somehow, someway, he places his confidence in something bigger than himself or his situation.

And, this brings me back to Mozart. Yes. He had a lot of misery in his life at that point. But, as I think about it, in his time, misery was the norm. Having a slow internet connection is nothing compared to the crap 18^th century humans had to endure. Mozart would have had a better lot than most. I wonder if at times, Mozart looked at his life listening to the voices that said, “Suck it up, everyone is miserable,” and thought, “Yeah. They’re right. I have it pretty good.” He tried to convince himself that. Yet, he couldn’t. He would never be content in Salzburg. Thus, his own moral dilemma. Should he stand against his father? Against his employer? Against his city? Even if it led to his destruction?

Zaide, K. 344, Trostlos schluchzet philomele

Trostlos schluchzet philomele 

There are more literary references to a caged bird yearning for freedom than junk cars trapped in groves.  The reference has become cliché, but as with most clichés, they become cliché for a reason. They illustrate truths well. I wonder where the caged bird metaphors came from. Was it Zaide? I doubt it. If anyone knows for sure, let me know on my Facebook page. So, why does this metaphor resonate? In some way or another, we all feel trapped.  Mozart for sure. 

In Trostlos schluchzet philomele Zaide finds herself in a dungeon. She compares herself to a nightingale. Calling out day and night. Interesting fact about nightingales, they are known for singing at night (Duh). But, they do so in search of a mate. So, they cry out day and night until they find their love. Nice poetic happy hippy stuff. The nightingale has been fine fodder for fancy verse from its first flight. I’m sure Mozart was aware of all this. But, I am not out to accuse him of delving into the cliché.  

The music’s mood is that of seeking, searching, yet there a smidge of content. It has more peace than Ruhe Sanft. Not a peace that says, 'Things are going my way,' but one that says, 'Things are not, and I'm ok with that.'

The lyrics ‘Ach, wer könnte sie wohl strafen, Wenn sie findet, was sie sucht’ hold the key. (I hope I have them translated right. But if not… Well, what would you expect from a troglodyte.) In both the music and the lyrics, this is the work of a man searching, not the work of a man knowing. Mozart was seeking that thing (or things) that would bring him real, lasting joy. The song (the entire opera even) seems to elude that that joy-invoking element is love. Yet, why do so many, who write these lofty, beautiful songs about love, seem to have such trouble in the practical department? Have they idealized it too much? Or have the sought it in the wrong place? 

Do Zaide’s words “Oh, who could ever punish her, when she finds what she is looking for,” suggest a love no one can ever steal. A love that can endure anything. Do her words reflect Mozart’s desires? His struggles? Is such a love possible? If so, did Mozart ever find what he was seeking?

Zaide, K. 344, Tiger! wetze nur die klauen

Tiger! wetze nur die klauen

If people didn’t fight for what is wrong, would anyone need to fight for what is right?

I wonder if Mozart ever got sick of it.  The voices, pushing, pulling. His father. Colloredo. His fans. His critics. Sulzberger’s. The Viennese.  Fighting their wills, in order to pursue his own.

I don’t see Mozart as a fighter. By fighting, I don’t mean physical alone. We can fight in all sorts of ways. Both peaceful and violent. In fact, I’m often haunted by this reoccurring theme: ‘Stand up for what you believe.’ Sounds great, in principle. Until, as a youth counselor, I have to clash heads with teens who fight me over the slightest instruction, all the while they’re implicitly (and even at time explicitly) standing up for what they believe. Like a chain between two tugging tractors, I have to adhere to the values of my employer—even if I may think the kids have a point. Who am I decide either way? I don’t want to fight. I have to. (By fight, I mean hold kids accountable.)

The world is full of people fighting for what they believe is right. Much of the time that means, in reality, they are fighting for what they want. ‘Ok? Sound good to me,’ some might say. ‘Shouldn’t we fight for what we want?’ I don’t know… Then, am I to drop my ears back, gnaw, claw and kick until I become the alpha stallion? In spite of all the great things people have done by standing strong (and I’m not at all saying they shouldn’t have), I ask myself how many more atrocities were caused by those who stood up for what they believed, or wanted.  Who knows what would have happened had Hitler not been so perseverant? Even peaceful protests are not as peaceful as some would claim. The have a cost.

And…

Oh, how I hate the way people fight to get others’ attention. Maybe, that is part of my problem. I want recognition, but I don’t want to fight with those willing to pull down their pants just to get others to look at them. Or, those who lay guilt trips.  Or, those willing to spend thousands on marketing.  I assume, if people don’t recognize my work, it’s because it’s not quality. (Part of me still hopes I’m wrong.)

Now, I’m not making grand claims saying that we should never stand up for anything, I just wonder if it would behoove us to reflect more over why were fighting, and what standards we use to determine what’s worth standing up for, before assuming we’re right.

Yet, sometimes we are placed in a position where we have to take a stand. One side or the other. Tiger! wetze nur die klauen is a song that reflects such a dilemma. A powerful song of fist-shaking defiance, Tiger! wetze nur die klauen starts right off saying, ‘this is enough.’ She’d lived in luxury, but at a price. A sexual slave to a powerful man. Likely, she could have been beating her brows with guilt, saying, ‘I deserve this. Look at all the other slaves below me. I have it good compared to them.’ Then, she meets Gomatz and everything changes. She tries to escape, and is caught.

Then, enters Sultan Soliman. A man who is fighting for what he wants. The love of Zaide. As a man, I can identify. Who hasn’t had a crush so strong, that he thought he’d do anything to conjure romantic feelings? But, how far should one take that? This is not a battle Zaide wanted. The slower, sadder middle section of the aria laments with regret, but it transitions back to fist-shaking defiance. ‘Let’s do this.’ It seems to sing, ‘The only pleasure, you’ll willingly get from me is my death.’

I wonder if at the Zaide period of Mozart’s life, he believed a fight was inevitable. A fight with his father? Colloredo? Did he daydream about the eloquent words he would use that would put either in his place? What would it take to get Mozart to stand up for what he wanted? Either way, it was not a battle he wanted to fight.

Sometimes, people like to push others, to try to get them to fight back. I’m not sure what I think about the principle. I can see merit, but it still bothers me. Henry Ford was a jerk to his son. His son never stood up for himself, and eventually, died. Ford was devastated, and said something akin to, ‘I loved him. I just wanted him to stand up for himself.’ Who wants to be that person? I don’t get it. And, if there weren’t any people like that, would we need people like that to train others to stand up for themselves? My brain hurts just now. I don’t know… Maybe I have to live in the ‘real world.’

I still can’t shake the feeling that Colloredo had the same mentality. Read my blurb on Colloredo if you want to see why I think so. http://tonedeaftroglodyte.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-radical-theory-about-archbishop.html   Colloredo goaded Mozart’s Tiger! wetze nur die klauen fight. It was his actions that brought Mozart to Vienna, weaning him from his father. Was that good for Mozart?   ???   Or, was it simply good for us? We’re the ones that get to enjoy the music.

K. 344 Zaide, Rase schiksal wüte immer

Rase schiksal wüte immer

I was in stationed in Ft. Stewart Georgia. It was November, around the time of my birthday. I was informed that I was volunteered for a BS (the cuss word, not an Army acronym) training mission. I found out last minute I was going to spend a week or two at an airbase. Just before, I had learned that—do to a clerical error—I didn’t get my promotion to Sgt.

So, I was on the air base. The training concerned securing an enemy airbase. I was drive the Hummer out of a C-5 and provide support for the paratroopers. The actual mission was going to use Bradley, but they wanted to get a feel for the mission with Hummers first. (To me that was like practicing basketball with a football.)

We were there. Staying on the runway. The C-5 (the world’s largest plane) was yards from us. I was too bitter to appreciate the machinery, and the fact that I was going to drive a Hummer in and out of the funky opening front hatch. I was also going to get to watch paratroopers jump out of it.

But, I was miserable. And, my misery only grew. Because, I was not a Sgt, I was put on guard duty, to guard the infantry guys’ Bradleys. Whereas the Sgt assigned with us went to PLDC with me. I should have gotten my Sgt rank at the same time as him. So, I did my shift, sitting in a truck, staring at the massive plane. My teeth probably gnashed like a cud-chewing cow. The next day came, but our mission wasn’t until the night. We did nearly nothing all day. The day of my birthday. Then, night came. The belly the plane was at least as big as a basketball court. We had to take a latter to the second story (not level) or maybe it was more like the third. The thing was huge.

After we parked our Hummer and strapped it down, we buckled in and took off. I was ready for this mission to be done. But, I had days left. The plane rode smooth, not shaky. That didn’t matter. I’d never been motion sick, well at least not to a certain point. To add to my misery, you probably know what happened next. I filled an airsick bag. That’s just the way everything had to go. An hour passed. As we circled the air waiting for the paratroopers to surround the airfield, I was feeling better. Dreadfully thirsty, I needed water. At the top of the plane, I drank a lot of water. I returned to our hummer and sat on the driver’s seat waiting. My stomach started its lurching, churning motions. I filled another airsick bag. Just as I finished, the lights went out. Everything was dark.  It was time to land. After closing my airsick bag, I hastily placed it on the radio shelf next to my seat…

As soon as the feet of the plane's wheels struck the airstrip, I jumped out of the vehicle to unstrap it. We practiced this drill from the landed plane. Mission required that every man, truck and weapon rush out, so the plane could get out of target range. I did my part. Once everyone was done releasing the truck, we were to drive out of the plane. I opened the door, and jumped into the truck with the Army sense of urgency.

Pop. The same pop you hear when you pop a bread bag.

I cringed. I retched. I cussed (I was known in my platoon as the one who didn’t cuss). My thighs and rear were soaked. My TC shouted ‘go.’ And I drove out, sitting in my own vomit. The landing had rattled my airsick bag of the shelf.  Of course, it landed on my seat. Not the floor, but my seat. The rest of the mission continued. I surrendered. “You know what,” I told myself. “Being miserable is not going to make anything better.” I was right. I laughed. I let myself realize, how lucky I’d been to even get to have this experience. And, having done it while not in a real combat.

The next day we left, because they used Bradley's for the next practice run instead. I was only gone for three days. And, I got this great story out of the experience.

So, why do I tell this story for the aria Rase schiksal wüte immer. Gomatz is in a state of complete misery. (My experience is nothing compared to what he was going through.) He believes fate is against him. Then, he wakes. He wakes with a portrait of a beautiful woman in his hand. And now, this shield (her picture) will protect him from fate’s anger. Having seen it brings him enough joy to endure impending misery. The music reflects these emotions well. I wouldn’t call it merry, but the music of someone whose has discovered the thing that will get him through.

Truth: We can always find an excuse to be miserable. And we often do. This music is that of one who doesn’t want to cling to the misery of his miserable situation. Music that is desperate to push it away. When Mozart wrote Zaide, did he have something in his life akin to Zaide’s picture? Or, was Rase schiksal wüte immer a cry for a misery-chasing hope to come into his life? Did the commission of Idomeneo give him that hope, thus he scrapped (or at least gave up on) the Zaide project?

Zaide K. 344, Wer hungrig bei der tafel sitzt

Wer hungrig bei der tafel sitzt

Mozart failed. His mission, find a job. Find a job that would support his family, or his father’s family, if you will. All the while, he likely had these grand schemes of what he would do with is life—with his musical career.  His mother died on the journey. His father held it over him. The woman he loved, or thought he loved, dumped him. Had he been tormenting himself? "If only I had traveled with the Webers, and let my mother go home, instead of going to Paris. Mom would still be alive. Aloysia would be my wife. And, I’d most certainly have found a career."

Who knows? 

Then, as the Zaide period in his life continued, how did he believe others looked at him? The mocking? Laughing crowds? “Silly, goofy Mozart. Needs his father to coddle him. Can’t do anything himself. Can’t get anything right, but belt out a lovely tune from time-to-time.” I wonder if he thought that people had a hard time taking him seriously.

Oh those mocking voices. We’ve all heard them.  How can I talk of mockers without mocking? Haven’t we all taken part? We gather with a group of cronies telling stories of the stupid things people do. We laugh and delight. “Man at least I’m not that dumb.” In reality, I wonder if we’re actually thankful there are stupid people out there doing stupid things, so we can look at them and feel better at ourselves.  (Maybe, the TV industry has made a nice profit from such mentalities.) But, then what of those who do something we believe is stupid because of their values? It’s one thing to disagree and even be saddened (or maddened), but another to mock and laugh and their perceived ignorance.

Wer hungrig bei der tafel sitzt. Osmin’s Aria. The galloping of this marry tune… The voice of a man who gets great satisfaction over the failures of others. He enjoys his rival’s misery. Even in the music of Sultan Soliman, I hear the voice of a hurt person, who does not want to be cruel, but feels he has know other option. With Osmin’s aria, Mozart perfectly and powerfully demonstrates the belittling voice of a mocker. The incorporation of the laughter—the rotten cherry on top a mayo sundae.

K. 344 Zaide, Ruhe Sanft

Right now, I’m on a Zaide kick. I’ve been working on a project centering on the Opera for about a year now. I’m getting close to revealing it. So, since I’m studying it like a prized buckskin paint yearling (horse terms: a beautiful colored horse that if has a great disposition could sell for a high price), I’d thought comment on each of the songs.  I even bought a CD for this one, makes it easier to listen to it all the time. 

 I’ve already commented on the cantor so the next song is Ruhe Sanft. First, I must say this song drew me to the Zaide opera. The most beautiful opera aria. Ruhe Sanft makes Shubert’s Ave Maria sound like a commercial jingle. When I first heard it, its beauty insisted that I find its origin. And, then when I read that it came from an opera that had never been finished—from a work scrapped and thrown into a slush pile—my gut coliced (a twisting stomach condition that can kill a horse). How could something so precious have just been thrown out?  From there, I had to know why. Why did Mozart stop working on it? I’ve read various theories, all likely to have some truth to them. But, I’m just talking about the song right now, not the opera. 

 We’ve taking in a foreign exchange student from Indonesia. And, the other day we were at a fellow host family’s home. Their student was from Germany. So, I thought I’d be clever and say Ruhe Sanft. She couldn’t understand what I was saying. I forgot that they actually use all their letters. None of that silent sound stuff.  (I did spent two years in Germany, but they spoiled me there, for I didn’t need to learn any German to get by.) She said it was rue heh not rue. Then, ad the accent and, well, I didn’t get it quite right. You’d think that for as many times as I’ve listened to the song, I’d have gotten it right. That baffles me all the more, how could the most beautiful song come from what many consider a… a… rough language.

Maybe, sometimes, the roughest, harshest environments produced the purest beauty. (Not trying to sound like a hippy.) 

First, let’s start with the opening. The sweetest opening to the sweetest aria. Such sorrow filled longing right from the start. Mozart tells the world, Zaide knows what she wants, but knows she can never have it. Plucking strings are tears. The notes ask, ‘Would I be better off never having known, or has seeing given me the a joy that can sustain me.’  The notes wrestle with the old adage, ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, then…’ yada, not convinced they agree. 

Then, the soprano voice seems to wish, the wishing turns to pleading. Selfless pleads, begging not for her wellbeing, but for the one she loves. By her voice alone, I wonder if I could have guessed she was giving away her only possession, in order that it may revive the receiver.  If the words to this song were a dear and the music was an arrow, Mozart would have pierced the heart. Did he have Aloysia Weber in mind when he wrote the song? It was about the right time. The girl he wanted. The one his father chased him away from. The one who rejected him when he returned. 

After the first theme, the music shifts from pleading/wishing to a daydream state. It imagines what could be. I have that kind of daydreaming all the time. I picture, what would happen if… Sometimes I chide myself, and say things akin to, ‘stop dreaming, start doing.’ But, this second theme says, ‘let yourself dream. Why not if it brings you joy?’ A bit of the cantor creeps in and whispers, ‘you can’t make it any different.’

K. 40, Piano Concerto No. 3

Onto another partial Piano (or harpsichord) Concert.  The third movement was a C. P. E. Bach inspired work, whom Mozart said was an influncial master. How many of us seek out that influence? That one creative force that speaks to us. And, how can we let that influence transform us practically? That's my curse. I've attached myself to impractical influences.

Anyway, back to K. 40. Another nice piece. (Am I so bias that I have psyched myself out of not liking a work? I don't know.) For some reason, the first movement reminded me of Mozart's Sonata for Two Pianos K. 448 (First movement). It didn't sound quite the same, but had that feel. It was mostly bright with just a hint of shadows. The second movement was like a peaceful set sighs, some discontent. And, the third, felt like various sets of waves. And ebb and flow of both clam and vibrant waters. The music surge forward with lurching reaches, and then collapsed back on itself, smoothing out the sand.

K. 39, Piano Concerto No. 2

K. 39, Piano Concerto No. 2

I wrestle with how many words I want to devote to this ditty. I like it.  It was, as an old preschool teacher would say, very lovely.  But, I wrestle with its Mozartian purity.  If the first set of piano concerts were young Mozart’s dabblings using other people’s work, how much should I chew on it? I listened to the piece for a few hours as I cleaned the house the other day. It worked great for helping my efforts, which one could take as either good or bad.  The music, particularly the first and third act, energized.  Light lively stuff.    Kind of what some people think of when they think of Mozart.  Even the slower second, had a hint of drama, but was still more peace-lashing and less trial-tinkering. Yet… It was single layered.  When I write, I like to listen to classical music. It stirs the right moods. It invokes.  All while not distracting… I’m listening to this concerto right now as I write. And, I don’t want distracting songs. But… It is the distracting songs that I remember. The ones I have to stop what I’m doing. I have to listen to. No matter how many times I’ve heard. The songs that stir something in my gullet.  

So if you’re asking, whether or not I like the piece? I do. I like it very much.  I just can’t really describe what it does to me. Gives me energy? Yeah, but simply saying, ‘this song energizes’, doesn’t seem like much of a blog blurb.

Apollo et Hyacinthus, K. 38

Now some would consider this Mozart's first true opera. Where they would say Die Schuldigkeit des ersten Gebots was a sacred work. Semantics. I'm not concerned.  So anyway. Apollo et Hyacinthus plots itself on some Greek Mythology.  Now, I've read that they changed it up a bit in Mozart's day to fit the time's ethics. (As if promoting foreign gods was more scriptural.) I'm not sure how much of this debate the 11-year-old Mozart dabbled in. 

Again, the music is very impressive for such a young man.  I mean, an opera? How many adults can do that? I do remember reading somewhere, that some in the past criticized Mozart's opera. They said he was too young to do 'em. Maybe.  But, in this opera, I think he is beginning to claw into the some good emotional stuff.  Natus cadit atque Deus is the first example a fitting great emotional theme. The death of a child requires a sad song. But, it still has a nice shade of hope. Even at 11, Mozart sipped from the cup of death. Did he draw from his experience to come up with the music from this song? In addition, I know I have heard the music before. Did I hear from another opera? Have I just heard it on the radio? I don't know, it is so familiar. Maybe it is one of those jackpot rhythms he reused. 

I little extra. I watched a youtube clip with some kids playing many of the parts. They had great voices. Did children play the parts when Mozart first had it performed? Was Mozart actually conducting it? Would he have seen the kids as peers, or underlings? 

Piano Concerto No. 1, K. 37

A practice run for what some could call Mozart the father of. The Piano Concerto. I was trying to figure out which instrument her would have first used. Piano or Harpsichord. I listened to this piece in each.  But, I’m not sure if you can really call this Mozart’s first piano concerto. It seems to be a work of others turned concerto, with a helping hand of his father. Yet, Concerto’s 1-4 must have given him a taste.  And, they are very nice. But, I noticed there seems to be a lack of banter between the orchestra and the Piano.  They agree too much to itch my concerto sensibilities. I guess I like conflict.

First hoof off the trailer, I liked the opening.  The allegro suggests a fun adventure is about to begin. Like a group getting ready for a trail ride into mountains on a warm cool day. The keys are the ramrod and the orchestra is the riders. The piano solo progresses in a manner that gives me the feeling, I am moving higher and higher into the mountains.  The Andante Movement, while slow, is not sorrowful, but content. It is the music from the top of the mountain. The sun is out. And, I just sit back, breathe the cool air, let my skin absorb the warm sun, and enjoy the view.  Toward the end, there is a hint of darkness, but I think the darkness is just a quick realization I can’t stay up there forever.  With a one last sigh, it is time to leave.  The third movement shouts, this trip was a miracle. I see things differently now, and I am better because of it.

Die Schuldigkeit des ersten Gebots (The Obligation of the First and Foremost Command) K. 35

Every discipline has its Mount Everest, White Whale, Super Bowl, magic fairy dust ice cream sprinkles, or whichever idiom you choose to use.  It is the accomplishment where one passes from good (or even great) to master.  From what I have seemed to read, for a musician to master an opera was the greatest feat of a composer. To tame the beast, that is opera.  An 11 year old dare try. Or was pushed to try.  Die Schuldigkeit des ersten Gebots. Young Mozart’s try in the ring. I would have liked to watch the whole thing, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.  I was able to listen to  all the music and snippets of the opera, and was surprised to hear a voice very similar to his later operas. I have no Idea how such a young person could write such beautiful music.

The music was beautiful, but it lacked what I think to be the emotional complexity of the libretto. From what I gathered (kind of an uneducated guess using Google translate and other tools), the story seems to be an internal struggle of one coming to fully accept the Christian faith.  The voices of faith compete with the blathers of worldliness.  The subject matter is rife with good emotional material that young Mozart doesn’t fully exploit.  He seems primarily concerned with making lovely music.  

As I continue to watch, I am curious to see where in his operatic history he progresses in his emotional connection with a work’s themes. What was the one opera that thrust Mozart into a master? An Opera Game changer.  Zaide is the earliest opera I have absorbed, where he has clearly grasps emotional complexities.

But, even with this work, there is some deep stuff there. In his own life, which voice won out? It seemed worldliness had a tight grasp on him. As he struggled, how did such Christian themes affect him? Were his sacred works, simply a means to make money, thus feeding worldliness? Were they tightly held virtues, he didn’t believe he was breaking? Or, did they reflect values he wanted to adhere to, but couldn’t get himself to act out?

Zaide Cantor K. 344

Brothers, Brother, be now merry

Find your couage, swallow your gripes

The Earth is cursed, we’re all doomed

Everyone, too, is wrought with strife

Let us sing

Let us laugh

You can’t make it any different

This world, this pain, doesn’t matter

No one, no where is free of pest.

(My own attempt and translation.)

 

A jovial opening with austere lyrics for a melancholy opera.  I wonder if Mozart's kin, friends, acquaintances, and wannabe therapizers, were saying similar things as written in this song. 'Hey, Wolfgang buck up. Life is miserable for everyone.' As I have said in my Zaide post, life was rough at this point in Mozart's life. He could have seen himself as a slave in his own right. But, why such happy lyric to begin the opera. Much of Mozart music seems to be an attempt to mask or cure misery. Was that what going on here? Did he write the jovial musical opening, as a means to convince himself? An 'fake it until you make it' kind of thing. Or, is it simply an ironic device? "Oh. You want me to be happy? Ok. I'll just do that then."  Or both?

K. 33b, Piece in F for keyboard, Klavierstück

I've hit a sloppy patch of pieces.  It was hard to know what to do next.  I got through all the Grand Tour works. I think.  Maybe. Sort of.  Who really knows?  So I went with K33b.  Was it a quickly doodled bit? I don't know.  I'm sure Mozart had a lot of quickly doodled musical tidbits.  This one had staying power.  In fact, it was used in the movie Amadeus.  The scene where young Mozart was touring.  If I am understanding it right, Mozart would have actually wrote it after the tour.  The movie may have got the bit wrong.  I don't know.  

Apart from the nerdy stuff, this song is a fun cheerful piece. It's full of youthful hope.  If it was written near the end of the grand tour, I could see it being a "that was fun, but thank God it is over," tune.  There is hope in it.  "I done with that crap" kind of hope.  Or, maybe I'm reading too much into the historical context.  And, relying on personal experience.  We all hit those moments after a long hard trial, or straining effort.  We think we've reached a point of smooth sailing.  The young Mozart may have reached that point.  Of course, when we look back on it, we often see our rest was only a rest, it wasn't a lifestyle changing event.  New trials, new strains come.  

This song suggests 'enjoy the rest.' 

Mozart fights for Figaro

I was thinking of the scene from Amadeus.

Mozart fights for the right to display The Marriage of Figaro.  The emperor admits he has passion.  Mozart worked hard, and some would have thought him arrogant to think it was the best Opera yet written, but… I don't know.  Sure, he writes to his tastes. So one could say he wrote the best according to his standard.   And maybe, history proved him right.  

But with any work, of any art form, it is like a child.  We love ours with a blind passion. And, we can get bitterly offended when someone attacks it.  On the other hand, what if a person is giving us solid advice on how to get your 'baby' to reach its full potential?  Which is worse?  A critical eye on one's work? Or, like the the emperor, an unwillingness to even see it? Hence a need to fight… 

So, just a strange aside: is it callous for people to hate the fact they show pictures of their children on social networks?

K. 33, Kyrie

K. 33, Kyrie

Its hard for me to get into heavy Gregorian sounding music.  K. 33 is a bit of that.   Kyrie Eleison ‘Lord have mercy’.  Why ask for mercy? And what music fits best such a plea?  Their grand tour was winding down.  Much of the family had nearly died on the trip. And, the 10-year-old boy wrote this piece.  But, it doesn’t seem the tones are a plea for mercy. The music seems, in fact, to declare, ‘God has been merciful.’ Soft and surrendered. 

If you want to hear a real music that captures real pleas for mercy, listen to the Kyrie of Mozart’s Mass in C minor.  K. 427.  That’s music of a pleading heart.

Top 5 most recognized Mozart melodies.

Everyone likes to try their luck with lists.  It's an easy concise way to say something.  Thought I'd try my luck with one.  Here what I believe to be Mozart top five most recognizable melodies.  There the ones that when I started getting in to Mozart, I said, 'Yeah. I've heard that.'

5. Symphony No. 40, Molto Allegro

I've heard this as a number of default cell rings.  I've also remember it on some old school CPU games.  

4. Piano Sonata in C, Allegro

Get any number of children's toys highlighting classical music and your likely to hear this ditty. 

3. Piano Sonata in A, Rondo alla Turca 

Another child's toy fav.  And, I hear a lot in commercials. The mystery show 'Who dunnit' had it as their theme song, and there's that 'feed the big' commercial that has a scene playing the song. 

2. Marriage of Figaro overture

The music is used quite often to express jubilation.  A Doritos a subway commercial come to mind as recent uses.  It is slathered all over the place.

1. Eine Kliene Nachtmusick, Allegro

Like Beethoven's Symphony no. 5 is to Beethoven, this work is quintessential Mozart.  Many not only know it, but link it with Mozart.  In addition, it is a classical music icon.  If someone wants to play a background piece the declares sophisticated classical, they'd likely pick this piece. (Along with Vivaldi's Four Seasons).

K. 466, Piano Concerto No. 20, A Broncos Fan Lament

Still listening, not writing much though.

What Troglodyte isn't a football fan? And, I happen to be a Broncos fan. Anyone following the recent events, can see a need for lament.  (Not that I am vainly seeking hope in a football outcome).   

I was thinking: How many people have as many career ups and downs as Mozart and Manning?  Regardless of whether either received his just reward, both will go and have gone down in history as some of the greatest in their field.  I thought it fitting to find a ditty that trebles the trials of Peyton Manning and the Broncos.

Piano Concerto No. 20.

The first movement begins at the end of the fourth quarter against the Ravens.  The orchestra opens dark.   The Broncos had chosen to kneel down with time remaining.  A looming doom declares the Ravens now have the momentum just after the Broncos had given it up. Overtime starts, the battle begins.  Manning throws an interception.  Raven's kick in double overtime.  Broncos lose. 

Enter Piano solo.

A head-hung depression. The Ravens charge through the playoffs, crushing every other team.  No other fought as hard as the Broncos.   The Brocs sigh, saying, "We'll get them next year." The music builds more and more hopeful.  Pulses of "We can do it," mixed with sighs.   The season starts.  Broncos storm through with fury.  Game after game, all the while the critics shout, "of course' Peyton can do it in the regular season.  But let's see what he does in the post season." He wins his first.  A sigh of relief.  He wins another. Their in.  Their in the Super Bowl.   The first movement ends at the precipice of the big game. 

Second movement. 

A hike for a Seattle safety.  The Broncos sigh.  "Let's calm down.  Collect ourselves." They stop them from scoring a touchdown.  5-0. That's doable.  They get the ball back, fail to score.  They keep Seattle to just a field goal again. Sigh. "Ok.  Come on. Take it easy.  It's not out of control yet."   Piano solo rattles dread, seasoned with a bit of hope.  Slowly, things unravel. Piano strikes growing  with intensity, chipping away any remaining hope.  Second half, Seattle scores on first kick-off drive.  Seattle: score after score and stop after stop. The music returns to the sighful laments.  "This is not their year." It says.  They still try, but critics and fans know it is over. 

Third movement. 

The music is celebratory, but with dark undertones.  The celebration of the enemy. Critics joking about the defeat.  The rival team celebrating.   The music suggests a few pats on the back, saying maybe next year. At first, no one's ready to think about that.   

Eventually, they slap their faces and a find the ever present optimists inside themselves… 

Well... at least, that's what the tucked-deep-optimist in me is hoping they're doing.