The Arts: Music

 

The Arts: Music

When I was telling about my learning to appreciate great music, I referred to that experience as an investment. Over the years (and there have been many) that investment has paid off, as my love for, and even dependence on, that music has grown steadily. There were times when I would be mentally exhausted after hours of study and focusing my mind on a mathematical problem, throw myself flat on my bed and listen to a Brahms symphony. It was the mental equivalent of getting a long, cool drink of spring water, sprawled in a shady, breezy grove after hours of work in the hot sun.

It seemed that there was almost always a need to match or heal a specific mood, and there is considerable variety of moods. A Beethoven symphony expressed that pent up, repressed energy that often needed to be released; or I might sit at the piano and pound away at one of his sonatas. Somewhere among the movements of his sonatas, symphonies, or concertos I could experience profound calm, or rollicking fun, or supreme pathos. I had learned enough German to translate the words to Schubert's song, Der Leiermann, (a destitute organ grinder, hopefully pacing the icy walks barefoot, while his cup remains empty) so that, when I first heard it, I couldn't repress a few tears. Schubert was a master of matching music to poetry to encompass a myriad of moods in his vast vocal output. Listening to "Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren”, one can experience the mood of the boatman surrounded by the vastness of the ocean and of the night sky lighted only by the stars. I could feel myself swept away by the rapid steady movement of a Bach or Vivaldi concerto. But, for some reason, it was the melodic performance of certain romantic era Russian music that literally brought goosebumps to my arms. In short, over time I learned where to turn whenever I needed a “fix”.