Melons and Music

I have a son who loves music. He plays piano all day and can pick out melodies by ear, which is a rare skill. I’m proud of him. But he listens to very simple music, mostly video game themes or piano music geared for the pop music ear. While I’m happy to hear him play, the monotony of the music bugs me.

I say “monotony” not in the literal sense of the sameness of tone, since the music he plays does have movement in the melody. It isn’t monotonous, but it does have the other definition: “tedious sameness.” Usually there is one idea which is then repeated without much alteration through the entire song. Sometimes it is a good idea, a catchy bit of melody, which is then beaten to death for the next four minutes.

I don’t want to snuff the candle-flame of his love for music, but I keep waiting for him to fall in love with Beethoven. Take my favorite symphony, No. 6, the Pastoral Symphony. Go dig up a streaming version and listen. I’ll wait.

Note the first four notes: A Bb D C. Listen to how it is repeated in the beginning, then mutated, moved around the scale, given to different instruments, rhythmically changed, but always recognizably the same theme. John N. Burk describes it thus:

There is no labored development, but a drone-like repetition of fragments from the themes, a sort of murmuring monotony, in which the composer charms the ear with a continous, subtle alteration of tonality, color, position. One is reminded (here and in the slow movement) of the phenomena of floral growth, where simplicity and charm of surface conceal infinite variety and organic intricacy.

I think that’s a good metaphor, the bit about floral growth. I have a plot of watermelons growing right now, and the vines and flowers have scattered over the earth in a pleasing variety, but it’s all recognizably watermelon. The symphony is the same. It’s all the opening theme, but growing out wherever the sun and water lead it.

The modern popular music would not be floral. If it is to compared to any agricultural product, it would be the factory chicken farm, where the birds are debeaked and kept confined, so that they may only develop in a narrow band of possibility.

Unfortunately, listening to and enjoying the 6th Symphony requires a little bit of musical discernment (the ability to follow a theme), time to listen, quiet, and patience, all things which are in short supply. You can certainly listen and enjoy, but it may seem as merely pleasant background music until you open yourself up to let Beethoven lead you on his journey.

The upside is that the music is much better. It isn’t that what my son listens to is bad. It’s not. It’s just not as good as what you’re capable of. The peak of European concert music is one of the great accomplishments of the human race. Pyramids, aqueducts, the Great Wall of China, geometry, and European concert music.

Try to dig into it. There are treasures.

6 thoughts on “Melons and Music”

  1. The Sixth Symphony of Beethoven certainly is a “treasure” and one of my favorite symphonic works. I begin each new year listening to this symphony and each time I continue to revel in the way that Beethoven can use repetition, particularly in the first movement, in a way that reminds me of the power of music to move one’s soul. The inspirational main theme from the final movement provides a fitting capstone for this great symphony. The musical discernment that you refer to allows the listener to experience the depth and power of the beautiful music produced by Beethoven’s genius.

    1. Yes. I fear that I don’t have enough musical discernment to really “get it.” I worry that in the future, hardly anyone will be able to experience these treasures.

    1. my pleasure. It’s probably a better symphony, but I love 6. I used to listen to it as a kid from my dad’s record collection.

  2. I’m trying to remember how I came to love classical music, and I think it was through playing an instrument (as you often recommend to us deer listeners!). It began with the meager motivation of being a cool dude who plays guitar, which became a genuine interest and eventually curiousity brought me to some guitar transcriptions of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, and Bach’s Little Fugue in Gm. Slowly learning the notes was what made me listen deeply, and found depths and mysteries I never imagined.

    Such beauty has it’s own gravity for anyone who wanders close enough.

    I remember being somewhat perplexed in my earlier listenings, but there was the sense that there’s something to this complicated music that’s worth sticking with.

    1. I think a lot of my own love of it (and jazz) was from great film and TV scores.

      I feel like everyone of my generation is familiar with certain melodies even though they may have never consciously chosen to listen to classical music.

      I also got very spoiled living in New England and going to a bunch of “free” concerts and a great show on NPR on Saturdays (for kids) that gave little history lessons and introduced people to the “Greatest Hits” and some “B-Sides”.

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