Music from the pen of God

While many composers of "classical" music succeeded in producing absolutely brilliant music, only a small number of them achieved a truly special stature: to have not composed music, but to have merely acted as a writing instrument for something that has existed in nature for thousands of years (if not millions, or even eternity), to have simply been a conduit for something that is both deeply spiritual as well as firmly rooted in the very fabric that holds the universe together.

When listening to such music, there are sequences in which the listener simply knows where the music is going, the listener knows there is no other way for the music to progress - the way it progressis is the only way it could ever progress. The listener is a second or two ahead of the performers because the music was written (or, rather, discovered) by the composer in such a manner that there really is no other logical progression of the music other than what the composer committed to paper - and what the performers ultimately play to the world.

This phenomenom is perhaps most recognized and experienced by musicians themselves. They are closest to the tensions and releases experienced by the physics that is music. Often a particularly well written sequence of tension followed by delayed release provides such a level of anticipation of the release event, and, ultimately, of physical pleasure, that the performer really does have a transcendental experience, a feeling of euphoria. I have no doubt that such musical passages induce the release of endorphins.

For such musical opuses, the worst thing a person can do is to tarnish their experience by reading or listening to any earthly interpretations of the work. to do so, one forever tarnishes his/her transcendental/spiritual/other-worldly experiences of the music. Do not read liner notes!

Having been a member of various music ensembles over the years, I speak from experience. Often, it manifests itself in the form of an established chord progression that is particularly well framed and voiced - our minds yearn to resolve the progression in only one possible manner - and the composer indeed resolves the progression in just the manner our minds anticipate.

This can be experienced in many forms. For me, it is typically is in the form of harmonic progressions (eg, II-V7-I or, simply, IV-I), or in the form of temporal progressions.

The most perfect example (both of composition and performance) of temporal progression is, in my mind, undoubtedly that of Schubert's Quintet in C, as performed by the Julliard Quartet w/Bernard Greenhouse (recorded 1986 at Concordia College). The constant push and pull of the tempo is several orders of magnitude beyond simple showmanship. Rather, they they cradle the listener through an epic journey of constant emotional push/pull and tension/release. The performers of this recording vary the tempo not where Schubert desired, but, rather, where the Natural Universe dictated them to.

When the progression is over, we are exhausted and the only thoughts we have are: 1) how it was composed and performed was the *perfect, and only* way in which that passage could have been composed and performed - that it existed in that form for eternity, the composer was nothing more than Nature's writing implement; and 2) thank you, God, for letting me experience this moment of perfection, it was truly a spiritual moment.

Perhaps even more so than Schubert, Beethoven reigns in this category of Nature's writing implements (eg, piano sonatas, as well as Symphony Nr. 9)

Bach, in his cello sonatas (although Mvmt 1 of Cello Sonata Nr. 1 is relentlessly overplayed and overexposed, and, because of this, is no longer a joy to listen to)

Vivaldi, in many of his works, reaches this stature. Again, avoid the overplayed works (e.g., The Seasons) which have been tarnished (if not soiled) by the incessant overexposure.

Some other transcendentalists:

Gladys Knight
Chet Baker
Ruby Braff
Don Ellis' Autumn


One thing that REALLY PEEVES ME is when a movie overtakes a song, and from that moment in your life and forward, a particular song brings you back to that movie, rather than to the place the composer (or, in some cases, God) intended you to go. Who can listen to the Ride of the Valkyries without remembering Apocalypse Now? Or, Adagio for Strings without thinking of Platoon? But perhaps the most criminal of these acts of rape (for they are nothing less) is when the movie Carrington utterly desicrated Schubert's Quintet in C. Whoever decided to put this unadulterated, unblemished opus into a dirty, commercial representation of an uholy relationship should find a special place in Hell. I hope this person dies a painful death. It took me 18 years to be able to listen to Schubert's Quintet in C without my mind going back to that movie, which, artistically, is only about 10 orders of magnitude under Schubert's opus.

[So, thanks fuckwad - whoever you are - for raping one of God's perfect works of art. Those of us who watched your pathetic movie which you sadly tried to elevate by riding on the back of natural perfection now have to revisit your patheticness every time we try to listen to that most holy of holy works of art. Was your ego was sufficiently stroked by your act of rape when your decided to defoliate this PURE work of art?]