I’m pleased to post my first in a series of columns devoted to musical happenings in Phoenix and elsewhere, as well as random musings about classical music. By posting an excerpt of Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto on Espressopundit.com, Greg Patterson paved the way for discussing music on a site devoted primarily to politics. (I think Ayn Rand was wrong in favoring Rachmaninoff over Beethoven, but that’s the subject of a future post.)
What are my qualifications? I have a couple of undergraduate and graduate-level music courses under my belt, as well as the dubious distinction of having bought up nearly the entire classical music section at Tower Records before it closed. But mainly I’m an autodidact who holds the (perhaps romantic) belief that music can serve to educate the heart’s passions, fostering an understanding of one’s deepest self as it relates to itself and others.
“With what, in this modern democracy,” asks Saul Bellow, “will you meet the demands of your soul?” The demands of which he writes are not religious, for which we have God, but aesthetic. (Romantics, with a capital “R,” have been known mistakenly to conflate the two.) Music answers the call of such demands, if only we are open to it.
Music is itself apolitical, though it can, of course, be used for political ends. On its surface, one opera, in particular, depicts obscure political maneuverings in ancient Egypt, but proves to represent so much more. It was my first opera, with Aprile Millo in the title role, and suffuses my memory with a nostalgic, sepia-tinged glow. Dwelling on it seems an appropriate way to begin these posts.
It is Verdi’s Aida. Here is its eponymous heroine’s famous aria, “O Patria Mia,” sung by Cheryl Studer in a 1994 Covent Garden production. Will Aida betray her beloved, Radames, or her country? Will her father’s love, or Radames’, hold sway? It’s a dilemma that only opera can fully drive home, the ramifications of which I’ll explore in an upcoming post.
What are my qualifications? I have a couple of undergraduate and graduate-level music courses under my belt, as well as the dubious distinction of having bought up nearly the entire classical music section at Tower Records before it closed. But mainly I’m an autodidact who holds the (perhaps romantic) belief that music can serve to educate the heart’s passions, fostering an understanding of one’s deepest self as it relates to itself and others.
“With what, in this modern democracy,” asks Saul Bellow, “will you meet the demands of your soul?” The demands of which he writes are not religious, for which we have God, but aesthetic. (Romantics, with a capital “R,” have been known mistakenly to conflate the two.) Music answers the call of such demands, if only we are open to it.
Music is itself apolitical, though it can, of course, be used for political ends. On its surface, one opera, in particular, depicts obscure political maneuverings in ancient Egypt, but proves to represent so much more. It was my first opera, with Aprile Millo in the title role, and suffuses my memory with a nostalgic, sepia-tinged glow. Dwelling on it seems an appropriate way to begin these posts.
It is Verdi’s Aida. Here is its eponymous heroine’s famous aria, “O Patria Mia,” sung by Cheryl Studer in a 1994 Covent Garden production. Will Aida betray her beloved, Radames, or her country? Will her father’s love, or Radames’, hold sway? It’s a dilemma that only opera can fully drive home, the ramifications of which I’ll explore in an upcoming post.
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