We went to the last concert in our Beyond the Score series yesterday. It was Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. I'm sure I've talked about these multimedia programs-- the first hour is an acting performance and educational presentation about the music, then after intermission the Symphony plays the entire work through without interruption. On the way in, I asked John what could possibly be said about The Fifth, that hasn't already been said a thousand times?
It turned out there was still plenty. It helps that Seattle is a Beethoven kind of town, and the audiences here can't get enough of him. For example, the Symphony always plays Beethoven's Ninth on New Year's Eve, which I think is pretty heavy going, when you're trying to stay awake on a festive night.
Anyway, we watched the old stories acted out on the stage, about poor Beethoven's angst, misery, general irritability and his spectacular slovenliness. And of course, his genius. Then we came came home and ate a dinner of sausage (Italian, not German) and Bob Evan's macaroni and cheese, that John has acquired a taste for. He usually puts his nose up at "prepared" food. (You can take the boy out of Ohio, but you can't take the Ohio out of the boy.)
This poem about Beethoven is via The Writer's Almanac.
What Beethoven's Music Will Do To You
Listen long enough,
you'll go stone deaf,
your body grow squat
from eating only
fish and brown sausages
washed down with hock.
Christen your sister-in-law
Queen of the Night, then
take her to court. Break
all the piano's strings,
howl and mutter and brood.
It'll do you no good.
He already wrote this music,
made it into the mirror
that always shows you
the back side of yourself
that you only imagined before.
Now you'll want to write
King Lear, paint The Last Supper,
rebuild the Parthenon.
by Bill Holm
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