K. 219, Violin Concerto no. 5 (Second Movement), The Keys of Present-Worldly Unsuccess.

K. 219, Violin Concerto no. 5 (Second Movement), The Keys of Present-Worldly Unsuccess.

I have fully moved into our new house.  I’ve been spending every breaking moment siding.  I’m still not done.  But, man, am I sore.  Hands-on housework.  Another dabblement of mine. 

I once heard Jamie Hyneman from Mythbusters say concerning duct tape, “Duct tape isn’t perfect for anything, but it is adequate for everything.”  Sometimes I feel like I’m duct tape. 

How am I supposed to transition from that to the second movement of Violin Concerto #5?  I will get there, but it will be a bit of a trip.

Few would consider a duct tape job a completely successful fix.  I guess that depends on how you define success.

The term success is a subjective term.  I guess if you’re the goal-oriented type, you’ll be able to tell me objectively whether you’re successful.  Unfortunately, I’m lack some goal-orientation.  So for now, I am going to narrow the definition of success to one label: present-worldly success.  That means the ability to enjoy the fruits of one’s success within his or her lifetime.  Fame and fortune are examples.  

What are the keys to this type of success?  For years, we have been told the keys of success are hard work, talent, and intelligence.  Sounds logical?  But, by that standard, I would have to believe Mozart would have been beyond successful.  (Again, I am out to stress the idea of a present-worldly success.)  And, many tend to believe there are all sorts of characters that are neither smart, talented nor hardworking, yet are successful. 

I do not believe these three qualities are the keys to success.  (Although, they may be helpful tools to reach actual success achieving traits.)  There are two key means of achieving a present-worldly success. And, I don’t think Mozart had a great deal of either, at least in his lifetime.   One is focus.  This is not the radical.  And many might argue Mozart had this trait, but I will make a case contrary a little later.  The second—this is a more essential trait and a more radical claim—is popularity. 

First, let’s focus on focus.  Let’s say you want to hire a plumber.  Do you look for the person that is smart and talented? Maybe.  Let’s say a plumber makes a bid, and says to you, “That leaky faucet.  I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m smart and talented, I can figure it out.” Would you hire the person? What about a hard worker?  If the plumber says, “You tell me what needs to be done and I’ll give you 110% to knock it out for you,” you won’t hire him or her on that fact alone.  You want the person that has devoted his or her life to becoming a plumbing expert.  You want the person that knows city codes, costs of materials, the time it will take to fix, and the cost. 

‘Surely, Mozart was a focused man?’ Some would say.  Yes.  He did have intense sessions of focus concerning music. But, he loved all music so much he couldn’t devote himself to one particular aspect of it.  His father told him to concentrate on the popular.  Salzburg wanted to hear specific types of music, i.e. violin concertos, and not piano pieces.  Vienna wanted lighthearted, Italian language operas.  (These demands also concern popularity.)  Imagine if Mozart would have honed in on anyone of these skills, and tried to become the best of the best in one particular area.  People of his day said he could have been one of the greatest violin players, but I sense that he grew a disdain for the violin.  (Likely, some of his disgust stemmed from his father and Salzburg.)  Concerto #5 was his last violin concerto.  He did relatively few violin works afterward.   Not only did he lack a specialty-music focus, there were extra-curricular distractions that led to financial troubles. But, I would argue that his lack of focus may have been what enabled him to create such beautiful music.  Exploration and discovery.  Seeing larger scales.  An avoidance of contrived works. 

Rightly applied focus can lead to popularity.  (This is the entire purpose of focus groups.)   We’ve been lectured throughout all our lives not to focus on popularity.  If we delve into moral ideals, there are great principles concerning such statements.  And, I agree deep in my moral heart.  But, my pragmatic head has issues with it. If you want to enjoy the fruits of a present-worldly success, (I will not comment about the more important other-worldly successes here) someone, somewhere has to like what you have to offer.  And, unfortunately, it so often has to be the right people.  Namely, the ones willing to pay.  Or, at least, the ones willing to rally behind you.  Even if you want to be the raddest revolutionary, you’ve got to have a following.  Sure, talent, hard work and intelligence can help, but they are not necessary.  Moreover, if you have these traits, but piss everybody off (unless you are trying to be popularly unpopular), you will not enjoy a present-worldly success.

This brings us to Mozart.  His father mostly likely caused the greatest disservice concerning Mozart’s popularity.  In trying to force himself higher up the musical latter, he likely slathered a poor reputation onto his son.  Moreover, Mozart inherited his father’s rebellious nature—yet never fully rebelled from his father.  In addition, Leopold soured Mozart from certain musical avenues.  Haydn commented that Mozart was not being paid what he was musically worth.  All stemming from a lowered popularity. 

Does that mean Mozart should have sucked-up? Not necessarily, but he sacrificed because of it.  And, we all must ask what sacrifices are we willing to make in order to achieve success on our own terms?  This is why those who seek present-worldly successes above all else, are the ones more likely to perform acts we view as questionable or compromised.

Even Mozart’s post-worldly success stems from his popularity.  The world remembers him, because his music has touched it.  (Maybe, some have become fascinated by his off-color behaviors.)  But, if the right people had not heard it and shared it, what would have happen to his name?  Yet, his music’s beauty is not dependent on our having heard it.  Such thoughts make dreary existential wonderings circle in my brain.  How many great works have vanished into oblivion because they have never gained popularity? Then, in arrogance (because I believe I am uniquely brilliant), I think, “Are my works destined for such a death?”

So why am I tying all these rambles into the second movement of Violin Concerto #5.  First, the music stirs such thoughts. The orchestra opens as if it is a friend coming to comfort. The violin solo mopes in.  It is not sure where life will take it.  Its dreams have been crushed. The orchestra tries to encourage it.  The violin seems to perk up, but sighs in sorrow.  The orchestra sighs alongside.  Then, the orchestra’s mood brightens as if to say, “You’ll be all right.  Just do it our way.” The violin doesn’t buy it.  Mourning some more.  At times, the violin seems to submit, only to sink back in melancholy.

The second reason I rambled using this piece concerns the crossroads in Mozart’s life at the time of this composition.  Prospects of a grander musical commission were bleak.  Mozart had to be considering the possibility that his lot in life would be nothing but a servant of Colloredo.  During this period, Mozart wrote his violin concertos.  Salzburg loved them.  (I love them.)  I wonder what kinds of benefits he would have gotten if he had just stayed in Salzburg composing violin works.  Maybe, he wouldn’t have had the fame he has today.  But, I can imagine he’d have had a more comfortable life.  Pies from old ladies.  Hat-tilted respect from city elders.  A stable income from a career in his passion, amongst poverty norms.  Who knows? 

But, Mozart couldn’t devote himself to that particular focus.  I think such wrestlings bounced around in his head as he wrote this final violin concerto.  He wanted to write operas, piano concertos, and chamber music.  But, what could he do?  Did he simply have to accept his lot in life?  Clearly, we know what he decided.  Unfortunately, his audience’s demands chased Mozart away from a beautiful genre.   

K. 246, Piano Concerto No. 8 in C Major

K. 246, Piano Concerto No. 8 in C Major

A little ditty written for Archbishop Colloredo’s niece.  So this was a piano work, not as popular in the Salzburg area.  So how could a guy like Mozart make such a medium more popular?  How does anyone make something new acceptable to his or her audience?  By tying it to something familiar.   The first thing I thought when I heard the first movement, “That has a familiarity.  It has a build up similar to Violin Concerto no. 5.”  So I checked the tempo marks.  The same as K. 219, except the second movement is an andante instead of an adagio.

As with K. 219, Mozart starts off with the orchestra’s anything is possible tone.  Then, comes the piano solo.  But, this solo isn’t unsure of itself, although it has a similar melody as K. 219’s solo opener.  This solo carries a more curious mood.  “I wander what’s out there?” It says.  Not sure if that is a musical difference between the pianoforte and the violin, or if it is the music itself.  Then we come to the coming-out-of-its-shell element.  This is where the melody is the most similar to K. 219, but it is not as intense.  It builds at a slower pace, and the climax is more mellow.  I prefer K. 219’s first movement’s contrast. “I’m scared” turns into “You’re right, I just might be able to do it.” As opposed to, K. 246’s “I wonder what’s out there” turning into “gee golly, that’s kinda neat.”

Now I’m not sure how much detail I want to go into about the next two movements, because I have not commented on the next two movements of K. 219 yet.  Just to suffice, the second movement has the sighing elements of K. 219.  And, the third movement’s melody feels like a mirror version of the main melody.  As in, a reverse build up. 

A quick tidbit I read about the piece.  It is supposed to be an easier peace to play.  Mozart used it to teach pupils.  And, if you want to make a genre popular that is a good strategy.  Make it easy and make it familiar.

K. 219, Violin Concerto #5 (First Movement)

K. 219, Violin Concerto #5 (First Movement)

There tends to be two types of openings in Literature and Movies.  One starts at normalcy.  The plot boils as conflicts are introduced, until we reach the climax.  The other starts with the final stairs of the climax then knocks the audience down to the bottom of the plot-hill.  We wonder the rest of the movie how the protagonist is going to find him or herself in the introductory predicament. Or, in some cases the introductory jubilation.  The second type of opening has its place, but is so often over-used simply as a means to grab the attentions of an ever-growing impatient audience.

Why bring this up?  The first movement of Violin Concerto #5 has such an opening.  Many music pieces have this element, and I prefer this opening in music as opposed to books and movies. The first strum of stings tick with clock tocking precision.  Cheerful strings proclaim among the increasing beats that they’re ready to take on the world.  The orchestral opening dances with a sprinting optimism at its peak.  ‘Anything is possible’ the voice declares.

Then, the music knocks back the in mood.  The solo violin, timid and frail, asks if it has what it takes.  ‘Is anything really possible?’ The orchestra replies with a gentle touch to the back, ‘yes.’  ‘You can do it.’ The solo violin gains self-confidence, bolstering ‘you’re right.  I can.’ The accompanying strings agree with jubilee, as the solo violin seems to list off each of its attributes.

Around the four minute mark self-doubt seeps back into the violin.  The orchestra reassures the violin, but with less patience.  The violin submits saying, ‘Yeah.  You’re right!’  This banter continues mostly in an optimistic voice with only hints of doubt. The orchestra grows more demanding and seems to want top kick the violin in the rear to get moving.  With one last self-struggle, the solo violin is waiting at the door.  The orchestra encourages it to go out and conquer the world. 

But, what kind of conquering does the orchestra want from the violin?  As I delve into the rest of K. 219 in later blogs, I will explore more how Mozart’s mood may have influenced the work.  Although, the first movement is primarily optimistic, it is peppered with self-doubt.  I see Mozart standing at his Salzburg door, on the verge of manhood.  The world tells him he is destined for greatness.  His father. Salzburg. Whatever… But, the same world that is proclaiming his brilliance is also trying to dictate how it wants him to use it, most likely for self-serving purposes. 

I don’t know… How does one find that balance?  We can sit back and whine about how the world won’t let us be ‘us.’  But ultimately, how can we ever get the recognition we want, if we don’t in some way, at some time, cater to the world’s demands?  Really, isn’t the world full of self-doubting individuals who seek out certain mediums for their own comfort?  Although, we are prone to seek out vain, unlasting comforts.  Sometimes, we do need something larger than ourselves to encourage us to seek out comforts of greater value (an everlasting comfort?) even if the journey is scary. And… Even if we don’t get the adulation we crave. 

K. 320d Sinfonia Concertante for Violin, Viola, and Orchestra in E flat

K. 320d Sinfonia Concertante for Violin, Viola, and Orchestra in E flat.

We had a power outage in our area, so I missed a couple of days of writing…  

The third movement of this piece seems to following me wherever I go.  I have gathered a few compilations CD’s, the third movement bumps right after songs that I find particularly powerful.  Thus, I have heard it numerous times. And fatefully, the entire work happened to be played at the first Mozart concert I attended.

The third movement is a pretty piece that gets stuck in my head easily.  (Unfortunately, easier than first and second movements.)  But, I’ve never really been moved by it, although I know it quite well.    The violin and viola frolic with each as if racing through a meadow.  Violin runs.  Viola catches.  The orchestra lounges on a hill and cheers.  All have surrendered to their fate and have decided to simply enjoy their surroundings.

But, what have they surrendered to?  A reference to the first and second movement. The first sings with and air of fearful, yet hopeful, anticipation.  The Violin and Viola lament together in the second movement, asking: ‘why?’  ‘How did things end up this way?’  Never, finding a satisfactory answer.   The orchestra’s attempts at comfort are largely ineffective.  I am compelled by the fact that, in the other two movements, the orchestra seems to be a more dominant voice, where as it cowers in the second.  Do either the violin or viola represent Mozart, and the orchestra, the Salzburgers?  Maybe a stretch. 

The interesting fact about the Sinfonia Concertante is that the style was a new fangled thing back then.  Mozart experienced it on the very journey in which his mother died.  And like many fads, the style did not last long.  But what made Mozart venture here?  With his mother dead and now forced to stay in Salzburg, Mozart’s dreams eroded.  Salzburg loved the Violin Concertos (I agree with Salzburg), but they were less receptive to piano solo and chamber music.  And, they had limited opera venues (even the ones they had had were closed).  After his five violin concertos, Mozart did limited violin pieces.  Mozart hated being stuck in Salzburg. I could imagine his fellow citizens nagging him, ‘when are you going to do another violin concerto?’  Add, his father’s strains ‘you need to focus on popular music,’ and you have a man soured from a genre he once loved.  How long could he stave off demands for a grand violin piece?  Moreover, critics may have told him, he needed to focus, specialize in one style (of course, they made strong suggestions of where to focus). His Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola may have been his compromise.  A new style.  Something not forced upon him.  Yet, a double violin concerto, if you will.  And, I’ll bet the third movement was Salzburg's favorite. 

Interestingly, this Sinfonia Concertante was the only one he did for the Violin.  Even the only other piece in the Sinfonia Concertante style is of debatable authenticity.   I wonder why no others followed.  Was he disgusted at prostituting himself out to the popular Salzburgers?  Was he trying to stick it to the city essentially saying, ‘here’s what I could do, but I’m not going to give you any more’?  Or, (to be a little less conspiracy theorist) did he prefect the style with this work, and simply want to move on?  Was it something he tried, but didn’t particularly care for?  Either way, one fact is sure, with his genius, Mozart could make even the faddist, legendary.