“So there's this man. He has a time
machine. Up and down history he goes, zip, zip, zip, zip, zip, getting into
scrapes. Another thing he has is a passion for the works of Ludwig van
Beethoven. And one day he thinks, ‘What's the point of having a time machine if
you don't get to meet your heroes?’ So off he goes to eighteenth-century
Germany, but he can't find Beethoven anywhere. No one's heard of him. Not even
his family have any idea who the time traveller is talking about. Beethoven
literally doesn't exist. This didn't happen, by the way. I've met Beethoven –
nice chap, very intense, loved an arm wrestle. No, this is called the ‘bootstrap paradox’. Google it. The time traveller panics. He can't bear the
thought of a world without the music of Beethoven. Luckily, he brought all of
his Beethoven sheet music for Ludwig to sign. So he copies out all the
concertos and the symphonies, and he gets them published. He becomes Beethoven.
And history continues with barely a feather ruffled. But my question is this:
who put those notes and phrases together? Who really composed Beethoven's Fifth?”
Doctor Who S9 E4, ‘Before
the Flood’ (2015)
 |
| In case the picture is too small for you to see, this is a stairwell papered with sheet music, which is such an irresistibly cool idea I just had to include it in my post. |
Earlier this week, the
ever-talented Jon Cozart, aka Paint, gifted YouTube with another of his
thoroughly excellent a cappella medleys, this one entitled ‘History of
Classical Music’.1 For some reason, it’s taken up rather persistent residence
in a charming little property known as the Forefront of my Mind, making this
week seem a rather opportune time to spend a blog post ranting about how much I
love classical music.
I love classical music because it
stands with the weight of history behind it, because a well-written concerto
will always be the best way to show off exactly what a particular instrument is
really capable of, because the vast array of an entire orchestra, every element
distinct yet all combining into a seamless whole, will always be able to
achieve a more heart-stirringly epic sound than anything else can dream of. I
love classical music because it works equally well as not-too-distracting background
noise for revising and as a masterpiece to which I can gladly devote my full
attention. I love classical music because it seems to me, in some sense, the
most musicky music out there, the music most motivated by the fact that
it’s brilliantly somehow possible to organise a bunch of seemingly disparate
noises into a substance that does things to the hearer’s mind and heart
and soul.2
To be fair, it probably helps
that I was pretty much raised on classical music. The radio in my childhood
home was permanently tuned to Classic FM;3 the only other thing I
remember my parents listening to was the occasional borrowed ABBA CD. I had
virtually no awareness of popular music at all beyond perhaps the occasional
Avril Lavigne or S Club 7 refrain gleaned from a friend’s party or CBBC TV
programme. On one memorable occasion when I was in Year Six, my classmates and
I were told to write poems following a specified structure that included
reference to our favourite music – so I made mention of ‘Jupiter’ from Gustav
Holst’s Planet Suite.4 Because, you know, it’s a quality tune. Shame
the choice sounded so pretentious coming from a ten-year-old.
 |
| Jupiter – and some other planets, I assume, though quite what they’re doing so close by is a bit of a mystery. |
But an appreciation for
classical music doesn’t – or at least shouldn’t – have to come with an
obligatory dose of pretentiousness. The genre isn’t nearly as loftily
inaccessible as I think it can have a tendency to come across as. While I would
absolutely urge that nobody should feel obliged to pretend to like a classical
piece in order to come across as cultured, I would just as heartily urge that
nobody should dismiss the whole classical genre out of hand. After all, the
term can encompass a far wider variety of audial creations than one might imagine.
In fact, ‘classical’ is a
pretty fuzzy term when applied to music. In a technical sense, it refers to the
music of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, sandwiched between
the baroque and romantic movements, but surely nobody would claim that its use
should be restricted purely thereto. I reckon it’s nigh on impossible to pin
down the defining features of the classical genre. Classical music doesn’t have
to be orchestral; it doesn’t have to be instrumental; it doesn’t even have to
be old. My good chum dictionary.com would have it as ‘the formally and
artistically more sophisticated and enduring types of music, as distinguished
from popular and folk music and jazz’,5 which certainly isn’t the
worst definition ever, but it does rather contain that air of pretentiousness
we’re trying to avoid.
Plus, we’re confronted with the
fact that some artists simply refuse to seat themselves neatly within or
without the classical box. Take someone like Lindsey Stirling; she’s a
brilliant violinist who accompanies most of her compositions with electronica
and dubstep, but sounds just as at home backed by an orchestra.6 Or
there are the Piano Guys, who seamlessly mash up Michael Jackson with Mozart
and David Guetta with Fauré without batting an eyelid.7 Or there’s
Escala, the string quartet who appeared on Britain’s Got Talent in 2008
with their enviably cool transparent instruments, whose first album features consecutively
covers of ‘Feeling Good’, Handel’s ‘Sarabande’, and the theme from The
Matrix.8 My preferred term for this kind of stuff, straddling
the gap between classical and otherwise, is ‘cross-classical’, but I’m not
entirely sure whence I picked that up or how widely it’s used. Its blended
nature makes this the more accessible end of the genre to those unfamiliar with
classical music, and there’s some really brilliant, clever, creative, beautiful
stuff going on there.
 |
| A violin – not as quite as cool as Escala’s ones though. |
Still in pretty accessible
territory is the sphere of the soundtrack. Cinema and video games may be recent
phenomena, but composers were being commissioned to write soundtracks for
things long before they emerged; Handel’s ‘Music for the Royal Fireworks’,
written in 1749, would seem an obvious example.9 Some of my
favourite film scores include Hans Zimmer’s for Pirates of the Caribbean
(obviously), John Powell’s for How to Train Your Dragon, and Harry
Gregson-Williams’ for the most recent Narnia series.10 I’m also a
huge fan of what Adam Young (of Owl City) is doing at the moment, namely
writing soundtracks for historical events; a new one is available to download
for free at the start of every month.11 The fact that one knows,
when listening to a soundtrack, what the music is about and what one is
supposed to be envisioning is, I think, a real help towards enjoying it more
thoroughly.
On this ground, I’ll take the
opportunity to offer a recommendation of something I think is a good ‘in’ to
the world of more traditionally classical classical – like, stuff written
by guys who are now dead and known primarily by their surnames, and bearing imaginative
titles that consist of a number followed by a key signature or similar. (I
know, it’s a terrible definition, but I did say it’s nigh on impossible to
define this stuff and you do at least know what I’m talking about, O Perceptive
Reader.) Ten Pieces is an hour-long programme created by the BBC for use
in schools, but don’t let that put you off. As its name suggests, the programme
features ten pieces of orchestral music, but its real brilliance is in the way
it explains key aspects of the context and purpose of each piece through a
short animated or live-action sequence, and gives the audience a few prompts as
to where they might like to direct the wanderings of their mind as they listen
to it. There are currently two editions of Ten Pieces, the more recent
being most definitely my favourite, though both are worth checking out.12
Another potential ‘in’ to the
genre is the fact that it’s currently prom season.13 The proms – or the
Henry Wood Promenade Concerts presented by the BBC, if we’re being formal –
were founded in 1895 with the aim of bringing classical music to the masses,
and still constitute probably the world’s largest classical music festival. To
witness a prom live at the Royal Albert Hall will only set you back £6 if you’re
prepared to stand, but if that sounds like too much hassle, there are other
options too; for a start, every single prom is broadcast on Radio Three, and a
good number of them are televised as well. There are always a few proms made especially
accessible by their foundation around a particular popular-culture theme; this
year’s offerings include a David Bowie prom, a Brazil-themed prom, and even a
CBeebies prom. To continue in the vein of my beloved children’s television, the
Horrible Histories prom put on a few years ago was a hugely enjoyable
mixture of songs featured in the sketch show and classical works, with goodly
doses of entertaining historical context, of course.14
And once you’ve found your ‘in’,
tracked down a piece or two you really like, it’s simply a matter of scouting
about on YouTube or Spotify or whatever your preferred music platform is for similar
stuff, and perhaps doing a tad of Googling for context if you feel like it. In
fact, Spotify’s ready-made playlists are another ‘in’ worth mentioning: tracks
are grouped under headings like ‘Epic Classical’, ‘Peaceful Choral Music by Living
Composers’, and ‘All About That Brass’, depending on what takes your fancy. My
own ‘Classical Awesomeness’ playlist is woefully understocked at the moment,
partly because I keep my cross-classical and soundtracks elsewhere, partly
because I’m usually quite content to rely on Classic FM’s playlisting skills
over my own. I am, after all, no expert on classical music – but then, I don’t
think I should have to be to be allowed to enjoy it. And neither, dear reader,
should you.
Footnotes
1 Do give it a watch. It’s
really good fun: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S5wiYzlrwo.
2 Disclaimer: I don’t, of
course, love all classical music. Just as in any other genre, some of it’s
terrible, some of it goes right over my head, and some of it just isn’t very
interesting. But I do really love some classical music.
3 They also have an online radio
player: http://www.classicfm.com/radio/player/.
4 Fancy a listen? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYdzb6TZW7M.
Wow, ten-year-old me had good taste.
5 Entry 4a: http://www.dictionary.com/browse/classical.
6 Compare https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QAD0BtEv6-Q
with https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QAD0BtEv6-Q;
the first comes with Stirling’s official music video for the song (and yes, her
other videos are also very beautiful and worth checking out), the second with a
bunch of Alice in Wonderland clips, because why not.
7 Here’s their very impressive
video for the former: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rR94NDIfGmA.
Again, yes, the others are worth checking out too.
8 Though the piece they really
made their name with was ‘Palladio’, as performed here on BGT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3Gvxgudm4U.
9 Classic FM will tell you the
whole story: http://www.classicfm.com/composers/handel/music/george-frideric-handel-music-royal-fireworks/#1XqQSwRbji6Q2DA4.97.
10 But I can’t be bothered to
link to all of them, so why not start with my favourite track from How to
Train Your Dragon: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4o5-f6dGAg.
11 No kidding – and as an added
bonus, they have totally gorgeous cover art: http://www.ayoungscores.com/.
12 Sadly, neither is available on
iPlayer at the moment, but some kindly human has uploaded a clip to YouTube to
give you a flavour: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4sNFJPkCyI.
You could always try tracking it down on BOB National, https://learningonscreen.ac.uk/ondemand,
which has recently undergone a revamp, if you’re associated with an institution
that grants you access thereto.
13 All the details available from
the BBC: http://www.bbc.co.uk/proms.
14 Some lovely human has uploaded
the whole thing as a playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Epq4t6a7bGU&list=PLTO0xV_kw_-NGRgR_rKjrND6eIxiRbQ9O.
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