Beethoven & Britney
I was running late one sleepy morning last week. Intelligentsia (supplier of my daily latte addiction, running late or not) was playing Calexico’s Garden Ruin, and I had maybe four minutes of sweet, sweet relief from my otherwise grimy morning. Unsurprising; music frequently determines or reflects moods. See: any number of music reviews making references to “rainy day music” or “perfect summer pop songs.” Or try listening to The Smiths’ “Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me” when you’re feeling on top of the world. You’ll either shut it off one bar in or fall a very, very long way down.
I went to McBookstore during lunch today to get some new reading material (Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy and A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments by David Foster Wallace). Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 (second movement) was playing: a song both triumphant and devastating, exultant and crushing. Its eight minutes are an epic crescendo, plateauing mid-song in a joyful little dance, then falling prey to a deepening sorrow punctuated by the brass section. But for most of the movement, the cellos carry the emotion–appropriate, since a cello’s range is similar to a person’s–and, although I’m not well-educated in classical music, I believe it is somewhat unusual for a symphony to rely so heavily on cellos (Joel, do you still read my blog? You want to jump in here?). Beethoven’s Seventh moved me to take cello lessons, and hearing it today made me wish my cello wasn’t temporarily hibernating at my parents’ house. Probably my regret was exacerbated by the haunting A-minor key and the gray skies. And yet…
It got me thinking about more things than I can write about now, on the verge of bedtime and another early morning. In John C.’s entry about Britney Spears’ “Toxic,” he described it as something he turned to for a “sugar rush.” It’s definitely a song I’d listen to before, say, a night on the town (along with Madonna and Prince, natch). Funny how we turn to music: for solace, or to wallow ever deeper in self-pity, or to lift our spirits. And funny how music becomes a vortex of nostalgia. Beethoven’s Seventh caught me by surprise and took me back to the moment, and even to the emotion, of first wanting to play the cello.
And with all of these loose ends and half-thoughts, I’m off to Austin in one more day for yet another music festival. It will still be warm enough there to discover the perfect summer pop song. I might have to indulge my inner groupie and try to snag another front-row spot for Calexico.
* * *
current book: finished Michael K on the Metra home; cracked open Blood Meridian.
current music: re-living Sunday night with plenty of Calexico, with a break to listen to Symphony No. 7 three times in a row.
current socks: black with bumblebees. It was pouring rain when I came into work this morning, so I’ve been walking around unshod while my shoes dry out.
Posted 12 September 2006
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Let me know how ‘ASFTINDA’ is. I’ve been literarily enamored with DFW ever since I finally read IJ this winter/spring, and that is the next book of his I plan on reading, whose purchase or library check out has only been delayed by the deluge of previously purchased books on my shelf.
you’ll have to let me know
how blood meridian is
i just couldn’t get into it
it made me feel pretty darned stoopid
Blood Meridian is on my reading list as well — but it intimidates me terribly every time I pick it up.
Who’s Afraid of Cormac McCarthy? Me, apparently.
Mmm. The cello suites. They have long been my “writing music,” actually. It’s still the best thing for breaking through writer’s block.
So far, Blood Meridian is annoying me with its lack of apostrophes and quotation marks, but I’m only 25 pages in. Stay tuned.
1. I want to read Blood Meridian, too.
2. My favorite classical cello piece is Bach’s “Suite for Solo Cello No. 1 in G Major.”