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.  

K. 45a vs. K. 45 deest, Old Lambach vs. New Lambach

K. 45a vs. K. 45 deest,  Old Lambach vs. New Lambach

We’ve got some old manuscripts to sort out.  It is fun to dabble in some manuscript quibbles.  I am a theology major and have researched some of the Biblical text debates.  So, I have a concept of how they determine which texts are more reliable.  A lot of factoring of authenticity concerns comparing unknown work with the more reliable. 

Ok.  There are these Booky folks that have found two pieces from an abbey.  The Lambach Abbey. It is assumed they were gifts from the Mozarts when they visited.  K. 45a (Old Lambach) is attributed to Mozart. And, K. 45 deest (New Lambach) was inscribed from Leopold.  So one day, a scholar came up with a new theory and suggested the works were attributed to the wrong person. (Scholars—actually, people in general—want to strike it famous with new discoveries.)  I thought I’d listen to both, see if I can figure it out, and make myself famous.  Even though I’m a tonedeaf troglodyte, I’m a super genius.  So, I’ll figure it out.  Either way, it will still be fun to compare father and son.

Old Lambach

Some Scholars seem to suggest this is the least quality of the two.  It sounds mature to me.  More so than a lot of the other earlier Mozartian works I’ve heard. 

The intensifying strings building up in the first movement is a common theme in many of Mozart’s works.  I like the first movement’s adventurous feel.   The relaxing breathes in between seem to say, ‘that was fun. Again?’  There is one dark chunk that suggests maybe the last adventure wasn’t quite as exciting.  The second movement stirs moods of returning home from a long trip: glad to be back, yet remembering the good times on the trip.  The third movement is shorter, which if I remember correctly is a common element in his other works up to this point.  This movement is looking forward to the next adventure.  Over all, I’d say this peice has a similar feel to the other Hague works, just with a bit more spectacle. And, I guess that’s why those booky guys guessed it to being written around The Hague period.

New Lambach

First thing that caught my attention was that the strings don’t quite intensify the same way as is familiar to me in many of Mozart’s pieces.  But, they do sigh in a similar Mozartian manner, especially in the second movement.  All in all, I’d say this work is less catchy, but more refined.  (Refined doesn’t always mean more enjoyable.) It seems more like something Bach wrote.  Now, there is this element in the third movement, that I know is repeated in numerous of Mozart’s earlier work.  But, it is hidden in the background, popping its head out like a prairie dog after a fox left.  That ditty from the second allegro in K. 14. It’s there.  Why?  Is it there because, this song was written by Mozart? Did Mozart inherit something from Leopold? Vice versa?

Those are the comments. 

 

So who wrote which? In my extreme less-then-expert opinion… Ahhhhhh… I kind of wish someone would have just told me to listen to both without having done any research, and then guess.  I was biased big-time.  I’ll just agree with most the bigwig scholars.  New Lambach carries a baroque richness. Old Lambach has a youthful attitude.  At least, according to these tonedeaf ears.  

K. 32, Gallimathias Musicum (Quolibet)

K. 32, Gallimathias Musicum (Quolibet)

I think, not sure yet, but this is the last work I will dabble in from Mozart’s time at The Hague. For those who have been wondering, I have been away for so long because a chute load of changes have flocked my way.  We moved (I’ve mentioned that before). And, we’ve had our third son.  Without Internet, try working two jobs, wrangling three kids under 5 and finding time to work on a blog.  Anyway, I don’t have to make excuses.  I’m doing this mostly for me. 

So on to the Gallimathias Musicum.

This is a Quolibet, which I have just learned is a gob of melodies thrown into one work.  I guess, it is the classical equivalent of making an album.  Mozart wrote this work while at The Hague for the installation of Prince Wilhelm, ending it patriotically.  It is a collection of 17 Melodies.  I thought the best way to tackle this work is with a short comment on each melody.  So here you go (hopefully, I get it right where each new melody begins):

1. Reminds me of the opening of Mozart’s Symphony # 29.

2.  Spooky tones, with sighs, disappointed when they realize there is nothing to fear.

3. Triumphant, victory has come.

4. Epic, very powerful.  Has an Irish or Scottish feel.  Like something you’d hear from Braveheart.

5.  A royal piece.

6. A waltzy kind of piece.

7. More royal declarations.

8. A short sigh break in the middle of the quolibet.

9. Horns and Oboes find each other and dance.  Violins say, ‘Get it on.’

10. Spooky melancholy, like the end is near and a person is ready to give up.

11. Racing frolics, like that last gallop home after a long days ride.

12. Apprehensive curiosity.  A kitten peeking out from the hayloft for the first time.

13. Sounds like one of his earlier harpsichord sonatas.  Skipping on a cloudy day.

14.  I know this one.  It is definitely a repeat. I like it and will find out what it reminds me of.  But the mood says, ‘things are tough but they will get better.’

15. This one seems to suggest things will not get better.

16. Life is happy again.

17. The patriotic ending.  A tribute to his Dutch hosts.

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.

The Complexity that is Mozart

Sorry for the lack of recent posts.  At the moment, we have just moved into a new place.  I do not have internet access.  However, I am still listening... And, even relistening to pieces I've already commented on.  I've also compared Mozart's work with others.  I've been dabbling as to what makes him so unique.

Mozart is the Shakespeare or classical music.  How so?  Well, obviously there is the beauty of the music, but that is not unique to Mozart.  Oodles of composers have beautiful music, some may even argue more beautiful.  But, another element Shakespeare delved into was ambiguity.  Literary elitists argue back and forth as to whether Shakespeare condoned, condemned, or neutrally approached particular moral issues.  

In a similar manner, Mozart's music is riddled with emotional ambiguity.  Certain song may have an overlying emotion, but that emotion is all too often a mask.  I've yet to listen to a single movement and say, "That's a (whatever emotion) song."  Most often, the cover emotion tends to be joy.  And, think about it, whenever we want to fake an emotion it is usually joy.   I mean, really, who goes around while in reality happy, yet pretending to be mad?

K. 31, Sonata in B Flat

K. 31, Sonata in B Flat

Sorry for the time since my last post.  I have been on vacation.  I was rec. coordinator at a camp.  Good news though.  I offered a riddle clue referring to Mozart, and a kid actually got it.  I wanted it to be difficult.  This child that was in the 3rd or 4th grade recognized it.  To top it off, he was a bit a rambunctious kid.  Not, the type you'd expect to listen to Mozart.  As some other troglodyte I know.  

Anyway... On to K. 31

I hear many elements of other of Mozart's earlier sonata work's in this piece.  The first movement echos that familiar melody way back from K. 14.  I don't know what it is about that particular ditty that stays in my head, or makes it memorable.  It's got to be Mozart's Camptown Races.  The second movement seem to interject familiar melodies as well.  I wonder if the work is simply an amalgamation of comforting tunes for the young Mozart.