We all sing in a chorus

Republished from April 30, 2009

Trying to contextualize Beethoven’s 9th Symphony is no easy task. Groundbreaking even in its own time, it has come to mean many different things to many people. In examining all nine of Beethoven’s symphonies, I have always found it interesting to note that in each of them, it feels as though he is attempting to express an aspect of himself in a way that couldn’t be verbalized — not easily, at least. Some portray a particular thought, place, or even person, while others follow a form demonstrative of his brilliance with theme and variations. Each bit, each movement, is a musical amuse-bouche of his many personas. With the 9th, however, Beethoven conquers the frustration of self expression with a blossoming, rapturous unveiling of who he is, and with context.

We each have our interpretation of what Beethoven was so earnestly and exuberantly trying to say through his final symphony. It has been parsed and autopsied by musicologists for years, every artist insisting on his or her own view as the definitive view. Interesting, because the divisiveness of the ongoing debate is exactly what the first sung line attempts to halt: “O Freunde, nicht diese Töne! Sondern lasst uns angenehmere anstimmen und freundenvollere!” The baritone cuts through an entire orchestra to say, “Hey! Knock it off! Is there no peacemaking path forward?” Well, actually he says, “O friends, not these sounds! Let us strike up more pleasant sounds and joyful!”

As for me, of course I have my own imagery when listening to the piece, but I would not insist that anyone agree with my interpretation. The Mandan tribe of North Dakota have a saying: “That is what works for you.” I love to be transported to a different world, trying to see through the composer’s eyes. Always tainted by my own experiences, I enjoy the chance to see into the soul of someone whose life path was so different from my own. When I listen to the 9th, I hear a man enveloped in an unfathomable array of emotions. This work is akin to Moses viewing Canaan; the fields of Elysium are within sight, but still tinged with the warfare surrounding the path that leads to the gates. Beethoven was surrounded by war and instability for most of his life. Germany was not officially a nation until long after his death. The Austro-Hungarian empire was bombarded on one side by Napoleon and less formidable French incursions, to the south and east by the Ottoman empire, and Prussian factions to the north. As a child, even home was no safe harbor. Beatings inflicted by his father later contributed to his deafness.

History comes to life in the fourth movement. Ambiguous open fifths resonate like a charged dawn over a broad field, two armies positioned but hesitant to fire first. Perhaps a careless slip of a finger, and the entire stage erupts into explosive volleys. As with all battles, it gradually simmers back to a tenuous semblance of peace. Occasional skirmishes break out in this section or that, until at last, every faction lays down their arms after a particularly stubborn statement of, “I’m NOT giving an inch.” (Now, that’s a cadence — take that!) The basses introduce a melody so simple it can be understood in any language, sung by any person, and remembered by the youngest child. It’s very soft, though; at first, only their neighbors hear it. The message is picked up in the cellos and violas, then spreads through the orchestra like candlelight at a Christmas Eve vigil. Lightbulbs go off: I get it! Soon, everyone is on the same page and in harmony. Peace is difficult to maintain, however, and the sounds of harmony devolve back into battle. All-out war threatens to break out once more, but a powerful voice intercedes: “O Freunde!” cries the baritone. The chorus bolsters his message in solidarity, followed by variations on how to use this idea of brotherhood in more elaborate variations. As with any divine message, the soloists and heavenly host offer beauty and loving regard for life in simple, mortal terms. The lure of selfishness re-emerges as a march (Turkish Janissary march, to be somewhat technical), recapturing the attention of humanity, and the orchestra tumbles into a feudal/fugal mess of conflagration. The fighting comes to a halt once more, this time more determinedly, as every string, voice, and reed on stage erupts with a peek into Elysium. And once that opening is breached, the stars and heavens are revealed, sparkling above the deepest depths of existence (“Ihr sturtz nieder, Millionen? Ahnest du dem schepfer welt… Tochter aus Elysium…”). According to Beethoven, even “pleasure to the worm was granted.” Yep. That just about covers it all.

This is what existence is about, all of it. “I will seize Fate by the throat. It will not wholly conquer me! Oh, how beautiful it is to live – and live a thousand times over!” Ja, Herr Beethoven. Mein leben ist meine liebe (bitte, don’t hold my crusty German against me).

Even as musicians go, Beethoven was, shall we say, a bit different. The epitome of what we might mentally conjure when envisioning the bizarre genius. Historic diagnosis is always debatable (for that matter, diagnosis now is not always clear-cut), but some scholars believe that he was bipolar. Call it my radar of sorts, but I’d have to concur. Many of history’s artists, musicians, poets, and creative minds have had some type of affliction. A curse that comes with extraordinary talent, like a karmic yin-yang balance? Or perhaps a key to understanding what makes neurons fire differently in one person? It is a tantalizing morsel to chew on, pondering what makes these people tick. Now, I certainly will not claim that all gifted artists are bipolar or suffering from some type of mental illness. It’s a bit reminiscent of Tula’s father in My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding, where all words can be traced linguistically to Greek, even kimono. Yeah, no. I won’t go that far. I would aver, however, that history tends to remember most the ones we understand the least.

I also am not so puffed up as to claim that I am among the great. That would be grandiose and disgustingly vain indeed. But it does give me hope that being bipolar doesn’t equate to a handicap, and in fact is a tool to understanding the world around me from a different perspective. From the worm’s perspective to the cherubim falling prostrate before the divine.

I go back and forth between Beethoven’s 9th and Mahler’s 2nd (“The Resurrection”). You see, it’s a tough decision: humanity or the immortal spirit. Which should I embrace in the present? Do I revel in the beauty of my mortal limitations and wonderful imperfections, even in the presence of the divine, or do I think beyond my own temporary condition to my unique position in a broader cosmos of primordial ooze and globalization? In this moment, I will stick with contemplating humanity and the world surrounding me, both tactile and intangible, and my own position in a broader chorus — the first row, eleventh from the right.

Life is extraordinary indeed.

Text and translation:

O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!
Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen,
und freudenvollere.
Freude!
Freude!
Freude, schöner Götterfunken
Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!
Deine Zauber binden wieder
Was die Mode streng geteilt;
Alle Menschen werden Brüder,
Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.
Wem der große Wurf gelungen,
Eines Freundes Freund zu sein;
Wer ein holdes Weib errungen,
Mische seinen Jubel ein!
Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele
Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund!
Und wer’s nie gekonnt, der stehle
Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!
Freude trinken alle Wesen
An den Brüsten der Natur;
Alle Guten, alle Bösen
Folgen ihrer Rosenspur.
Küsse gab sie uns und Reben,
Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod;
Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben,
Und der Cherub steht vor Gott.
Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen
Durch des Himmels prächt’gen Plan,
Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn,
Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen.
Seid umschlungen, Millionen!
Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt!
Brüder, über’m Sternenzelt
Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen.
Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen?
Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt?
Such’ ihn über’m Sternenzelt!
Über Sternen muß er wohnen.

English “Ode to Joy” Translation

O friends, no more of these sounds!
Let us sing more cheerful songs,
More songs full of joy!
Joy!
Joy!
Joy, bright spark of divinity,
Daughter of Elysium,
Fire-inspired we tread
Within thy sanctuary.
Thy magic power re-unites
All that custom has divided,
All men become brothers,
Under the sway of thy gentle wings.
Whoever has created
An abiding friendship,
Or has won
A true and loving wife,
All who can call at least one soul theirs,
Join our song of praise;
But those who cannot must creep tearfully
Away from our circle.
All creatures drink of joy
At natures breast.
Just and unjust
Alike taste of her gift;
She gave us kisses and the fruit of the vine,
A tried friend to the end.
Even the worm can feel contentment,
And the cherub stands before God!
Gladly, like the heavenly bodies
Which He sent on their courses
Through the splendor of the firmament;
Thus, brothers, you should run your race,
Like a hero going to victory!
You millions, I embrace you.
This kiss is for all the world!
Brothers, above the starry canopy
There must dwell a loving father.
Do you fall in worship, you millions?
World, do you know your creator?
Seek Him in the heavens;
Above the stars must he dwell.

 

Leave a comment