The complete idiot's guide to classical music (2 page)

So you know most of Bruce Springsteen’s lyrics, you can trace the history of rock and roll from the days of Elvis and ducktails, and you’re even beginning to like alternative rock. But classical music? It’s not that you don’t like the sound, but somehow the thought of it is intimidating. You’d know a symphony when you hear one—but what is it really all about? You know Beethoven’s considered great, but what is it about his music that can move mountains (or at least help to bring down the Berlin Wall)? And what about motets and madrigals? It’s a lot simpler than it seems. Learning about classical music will not only enhance your listening pleasure, it will impress your friends who thought the only keyboard you knew about was on your computer.

Chapter 1
 
If You Know Nothing About Classical Music, Start Here . . .

 

• What is classical music?
  
 

• Learning about classical music will help you enjoy it more
  
 

• The elements of classical music
  
 

• How classical music is different from other kinds of music
  
 

• The organization of classical music
  

We all know what music is. It’s the tune you whistle while you work, it’s what the brothers Gershwin dubbed “Fascinating Rhythm,” it’s the song you sing in the shower. So how to define it? In the simplest terms, music is the organization of sound to create beauty of form and expression of emotion. Classical music is just like any other kind of music except that the sounds are organized differently, usually within a more formal structure. On the other hand, “classical” composers frequently use folk songs, pop tunes, jazz riffs, and ethnic dance rhythms, so don’t get too wrapped up in academic definitions. As the saying goes, just sit back and enjoy it.

Classical music used to be called “long-hair,” probably because Liszt, Paganini, and other early virtuosos were too busy making their audiences faint with ecstasy to bother about going to the barber. That worked fine until The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and various other rock groups came on the scene, after which no self-respecting electric guitarist or band drummer would be seen without hair curling down his shoulders.

So what is classical music already? Let’s find out.

Just as you don’t need to know anything about art to enjoy a gorgeous painting, or how to follow a recipe to enjoy chocolate chip cookies, you don’t need a college education to love classical music. On the other hand, the more you do know, the deeper your enjoyment will be.

Ever since some monks in the 9th century figured out that a tune might sound better if it were harmonized, music has been getting more and more complicated. And with complexity comes subtlety. Just as you’ll savor a wine more when you understand its nuances, you’ll enjoy music more when you are familiar with the textures and forms that give it life.

Can you tell an oboe from a saxophone, a symphony from a sonata? Sure you can. Well, why not go a step further, and learn about the theremin, the only instrument you play without touching it, or the symphonic poem, where music and the literary arts come together. Classical music is a language, and while you can get along without being a grammarian or a spelling bee champion, the more you do learn about it, the better the communication, and the greater your satisfaction.

 
Music Words
Symphony
literally means “a sounding together”; in the Baroque era, the word was often used to denote an overture to an opera, or instrumental sections within a vocal work. Since Haydn wrote his 104 symphonies, the word has come to mean an orchestral work of considerable length and weight, most often in three or four movements.

A
movement
is a major, usually self-contained, unit of a larger work. The name probably derives from the fact that each different section usually has a different tempo marking, indicating its speed of progression.

Most people think French is a beautiful language. If you listen to someone speaking—or singing—in French, you may be impressed by the lyrical flow of sounds, the gentle inflections, the expressivity of voice. On the other hand, your appreciation of the sound is limited to just that: If you don’t understand the language, if you can’t figure out
what
is being said or sung, your appreciation is obviously going to be severely limited.

It’s the same way with music. Even if you’ve never heard of Beethoven, you can be swept away by the wondrous sounds of his Sixth Symphony—the “Pastorale.” But when you know that the music depicts a day in the country, complete with twittering birds and a summer thunderstorm, the music takes on an entirely new listening dimension. Long before
Man of La Mancha,
Richard Strauss portrayed the adventures of Don Quixote in orchestral form, but if you don’t know that the viola represents Sancho Panza, or that when the Knight goes forth to battle with the windmills, it’s represented by a solo cello versus the wind machine (an instrument that makes a sound like the wind), you’re missing half the fun. In short, the more you look into the elements of classical music, the easier it is to experience the events and emotions the composer intended.

 
Bet You Didn’t Know
Not everybody liked the “Pastorale” Symphony. The famous English writer John Ruskin told a friend that “Beethoven always sounds to me like the upsetting of bags of nails, with here and there also a dropped hammer.”

Fortunately, learning about classical music does not require anything like the time, talent, or dedication it takes to play it. The purpose of this book, in other words, is not to turn you into a Pavarotti wannabee, but simply to heighten your enjoyment as a listener. For starters, let’s look at some of the basic elements that go into classical music.

Rhythm is the heartbeat of music, propelling it forward. Just as there is rhythm to almost every human activity, from breathing to walking, the pulse of music often defines its character. There is the flowing measure of

Gregorian chant, the precise and ordered cadences of a Baroque concerto, and the syncopated beat of a Scott Joplin rag.

A melody is a succession of single notes varying in pitch and strung together to form a satisfying entity. When you leave
The King and I
whistling a happy tune, that’s the melody. When a Schubert song tugs at your heartstrings, or you have an uncontrollable urge to hum along with the “Full Moon and Empty Arms” theme of the Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto, the composer has succeeded in creating a melody to remember.

 
Music Word
A fancypants way of saying tone color,
timbre
is the peculiar characteristic of sound produced by different instruments or voices. It’s what lets us distinguish between “Happy Birthday” played on the flute and the same tune pumped out on the trumpet.

Harmony is the simultaneous sounding of two or more notes. It enriches the sound of a melody, accentuates changing rhythmic patterns, and gives classical music its special richness and resonance. Aaron Copland said, “It represents one of the most original conceptions of the human mind.”

The color of a tone, the distinctive timbre of each voice and instrument, gives music its depth and variety. It’s the difference between the way Dorothy sees Kansas (in black-and-white) and the Land of Oz (in Technicolor). It’s the sauce a great chef adds to the pasta, the flowing lines a master architect puts into a skyscraper. Imagine Wagner’s Ring Cycle without brasses, or Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” played on trumpet instead of piano, and you’ll realize the enormous impact color has on our appreciation of music. The combined sound of the many individual instruments within the symphonic ensemble is known as orchestral color. Sometimes the woodwinds predominate, sometimes the strings do; it’s the composer’s job to mix and match those separate tones until they produce the desired sonic entity.

The imaginative combination of all these ingredients is the stuff of classical music. It’s up to the composer to devise these combinations, the performers to interpret them, and within each category there are endless variations, just waiting to be savored by a savvy listener. We, in other words, have the far simpler task of enjoying the fruits of their labors.

Think of it as a type of architecture. Classical music is organized according to certain conventions of line and form. Within this broad denomination are a number of subgroups, each with a distinctive style. The Chrysler and Empire State Buildings in New York City, for instance, exemplify art deco style. On this basis, we can compare them to each other. In a musical equivalent, we might pair Haydn and Mozart; to contrast two different styles, we might match Bach and Stravinsky.

Even the best-trained musicians can’t always distinguish Haydn from Mozart or Corelli from Vivaldi, but chances are that you’ll recognize classical music after only a few notes. That’s because every type of music has its own distinctive and immediately recognizable features such as orchestral color in classical music. Press the scan button on your car radio, and within 60 seconds, you’ll know perfectly well that you’ve passed through a rock station, one featuring jazz, a country music station, or (ah, ecstasy!) one with a classical format.

When asked for a definition of folk music, a balladeer once replied that
all
music is folk music—you don’t hear horses singing it. (I prefer Mark Twain’s witty observation: “folk music,” he said, “is music nobody ever wrote.”) Way back in the Middle Ages, when those nobodies were composing “Greensleeves” and other ballads we still cherish today, a different sort of music was evolving within the castle walls that kept out the riffraff. The Kings and Queens of Europe demanded more lofty musical expressions, and imported masters of the lute, mandolin, and harpsichord to play it for them.