Context is everything . . . and nothing
I've always been a huge fan of the music of Aram Khachaturian, the great 20th century Armenian composer. His grandiose symphonies (particularly, No. 2), emotionally-charged concerti (particularly, the Violin Concerto), and dynamic ballets (particularly, Gayaneh) are among my most beloved repertoire of all time. But his "Masquerade Suite" is funny. Literally. Following four beautiful movements—alternating between masquerade-style dance and lyrical "song"—the fifth and final movement is just... ridiculous. Growing up just before the ubiquity of the internet (where Google searches happened at the school library), I wondered what the story must have been to inspire such a sharp turn at the end of the piece. My brother, Christopher, and I—teenagers at the time—decided that the movement sounded like a demented circus in which a lion jumps through a flaming hoop, catches on fire, and chases a clown around the ring. With our funny story in mind, we would look forward to the jarring pivot at the end of Khachaturian's "Masquerade Suite" every time we put it on.
About a decade later (now, a decade ago), Jodie, Kaitlyn, and I launched our illumine trio—long before it was the MLUC concert series—with a Victor Borge-style comedy concert. Naturally, the final movement of the "Masquerade Suite" came to mind immediately, so I crafted an arrangement for violin and piano. As part of a gag, we "commissioned" Christopher to draw the lion and clown scene as a visual aid. (None of us have any visual arts skills, but our crudely-drawn cartoons are unparalleled!) By this point, I owed it to myself to learn what was Khachaturian's intention; what is the "Masquerade Suite" about? You might have guessed by now that our story missed the mark by a little bit. Turns out that the suite is a reorganization of incidental pieces to accompany Mikhail Lermontov's play of the same name—and it's a tragedy. Betrayal, deception, murder, and insanity... it's horrible! So, why the silly, circus music?! In short, the final movement was but a fleeting, lighthearted dance, originally from the middle of the piece—but in a concert version, played better with audiences as a coda. That's it. Lermontov's story be damned!
The abstract nature of music is perhaps its most pronounced quality as an art form. The "story" of a piece of music—especially in the absence of text—can be entirely up to the audience. We performers, as interpreters, can only guide a listener so far. Khachaturian's "Masquerade" is an effective tragedy, and his "Masquerade Suite," perhaps an equally effective comedy. As we prepare to reflect on our story as a congregation this Sunday, I ponder how music supports our community—our values, our mission—in a way that celebrates our myriad interpretations, experiences, and perspectives, regardless of any one particular "story." The Choir will begin the service with Heinrich Schutz's profound and timely, "Give to Our Leaders and All Ruling Powers." Perhaps it's a prayer to our new "ruling powers" that some may find the courage to defy their own most malevolent promises; or instead, a tongue-in-cheek referendum on the state of our democracy. For the Musical Meditation, we will prepare Rev. John to address "Our Story to Now" with Thomas Benjamin's (the composer of many of our hymns) "Be Ours A Religion," reflecting on our loving values as a faith tradition. Our Postlude will jumpstart the rest of the day with Orazio Vecchi's "Sing Me A Song," a buoyant frottola from the 16th century. Plus, I decided to sneak in the Nocturne from Khachaturian's "Masquerade" as our Offertory: a [hauntingly beautiful] tribute to those of you who read my enormous Happenings essays! Together, we will sing hymns #123: "Spirit of Life," and #189: "Light of Ages and of Nations."
See you Sunday!
David
About a decade later (now, a decade ago), Jodie, Kaitlyn, and I launched our illumine trio—long before it was the MLUC concert series—with a Victor Borge-style comedy concert. Naturally, the final movement of the "Masquerade Suite" came to mind immediately, so I crafted an arrangement for violin and piano. As part of a gag, we "commissioned" Christopher to draw the lion and clown scene as a visual aid. (None of us have any visual arts skills, but our crudely-drawn cartoons are unparalleled!) By this point, I owed it to myself to learn what was Khachaturian's intention; what is the "Masquerade Suite" about? You might have guessed by now that our story missed the mark by a little bit. Turns out that the suite is a reorganization of incidental pieces to accompany Mikhail Lermontov's play of the same name—and it's a tragedy. Betrayal, deception, murder, and insanity... it's horrible! So, why the silly, circus music?! In short, the final movement was but a fleeting, lighthearted dance, originally from the middle of the piece—but in a concert version, played better with audiences as a coda. That's it. Lermontov's story be damned!
The abstract nature of music is perhaps its most pronounced quality as an art form. The "story" of a piece of music—especially in the absence of text—can be entirely up to the audience. We performers, as interpreters, can only guide a listener so far. Khachaturian's "Masquerade" is an effective tragedy, and his "Masquerade Suite," perhaps an equally effective comedy. As we prepare to reflect on our story as a congregation this Sunday, I ponder how music supports our community—our values, our mission—in a way that celebrates our myriad interpretations, experiences, and perspectives, regardless of any one particular "story." The Choir will begin the service with Heinrich Schutz's profound and timely, "Give to Our Leaders and All Ruling Powers." Perhaps it's a prayer to our new "ruling powers" that some may find the courage to defy their own most malevolent promises; or instead, a tongue-in-cheek referendum on the state of our democracy. For the Musical Meditation, we will prepare Rev. John to address "Our Story to Now" with Thomas Benjamin's (the composer of many of our hymns) "Be Ours A Religion," reflecting on our loving values as a faith tradition. Our Postlude will jumpstart the rest of the day with Orazio Vecchi's "Sing Me A Song," a buoyant frottola from the 16th century. Plus, I decided to sneak in the Nocturne from Khachaturian's "Masquerade" as our Offertory: a [hauntingly beautiful] tribute to those of you who read my enormous Happenings essays! Together, we will sing hymns #123: "Spirit of Life," and #189: "Light of Ages and of Nations."
See you Sunday!
David
Posted in Music Notes