Mozart

AO's composer this term is Mozart, and, for the first time in a long time, we're taking time to really explore Mozart. We're playing Mozart music (originally using free downloads from ClassicalArchives, but more and more playing CD's as we add to our collection), we read The Wonder Boy by Opal Wheeler, and Tim and I are reading the Mozart biography by Marcia Davenport. It requires just a bit of editing for students. When we read about a piece that piques our curiosity, we go to amazon.com and buy a used copy. We bought the Six Haydn-Quartets because we read about Mozart composing them and wanted to hear them. After reading the reviews at amazon, we settled on a set recorded sixty years ago by the Budapest Quartet (a Russian group!) Tonight we read this in Davenport's biography:

" . . . the G minor quintet (K. 516) with two violas. This quintet is a glimpse into Wolfgang's soul; an epic statement; a summing up; a prophecy. The man who has been called superficial gathered all the hidden pain and passion of nine troubled years and gave them an expression that lives and will live forever in its sheer elemental truth. The piece sets and holds a keynote of intense, passionate excitement which more than accounts for the apparent absence of this in Wolfgang's visible life. It is possible to interpret the work in terms of his own misforfunes, expounded and then protested in vivid poignancy. But it is better to know that he, true artist, rose above autobiographical emotion and turned his personal passion into universal force. The tragic mood of the first four movements, culminating in the black sorrow of the last Adagio, is swept away in the supreme bliss of the final Allegro. This is no conventional happy ending, but a moment when Wolfgang opens the door to his spirit, which is clear and radiant and beautiful, and not to be extinguished by any mortal hardship. That he knew always. No biographer, no commentator, critic, or interpreter can ever reveal Wolfgang Mozart entirely. Every attempt to know him truly, to relive his life, is incomplete without his own musical revelations. Such are this quintet and his Requiem. To know them deeply is to know him."

As it turns out, that quintet is included on the Budapest Quartet CD, so Tim and I were able to hear it. I plan to listen to it once every day until it becomes familiar, and until I begin to understand what she's talking about. At first listen, I didn't think the sorrow was "black." It was just melancholy. I'd call it brown.