To use music as a vehicle for metaphors is all but too familiar a concept for the modernista. But the ability to convey ideas and thoughts far more than a crass shot at adolescent emotions like love, that takes a composer who has the ability to reflect within and come out with a piece of music reflecting his darkest fears and most jubilant joys. The mid-romantic period in western classical music is dominated in this respect by the irreproachable Beethoven, the master of romantic themas and a true genius at capturing the human condition in a rich tapestry of symphonic tour de forces. Who could not feel the heavens trembling and hell cut loose as the 5th ended?
But Beethoven is equally dead, in the sense that his is a towering figure looking into the future through his ravenously mad eyes, angry at the world, but firmly established in the 1800′s. His music is tremendous, earth-shattering, and above all, moving; but it is definitely not a contemporary of the modern age.
In fact, there are few composers whose music has been a contemporary of all ages – there are the Tchaikovsky ballets and the ever-popular Chopin and Liszt. Excepting perhaps some of Chopin’s nocturnes, these are still modern classics which are deeply canonized and viewed from the outside of their precious little glass cases.
Why? I can only assume that the world has changed so much from the high period of romanticism – humanity has become arrogant, and through that arrogance, become mortified of what we have done to ourselves. Tumult, chaos and paranoia grips civilization with an unprecedented choke-hold, crushing the hopes of millions and darkening the hearts of many more. This global change has percolated to the most microscopic levels – individual men have become foot soldiers of this vast machinery, marching to the dissonant tune of his own immorality, while at the same time, caught in a conundrum of his own guilt and fear. Creativity is the prerogative of the courageous few, transparency and simplicity of thought is equally sparse; rigour, rote and rancour are rampant.
And just when the situation looks hopeless, and one raises existential questions about why or how we have reached this point, the music of one man floats from across a century, the harbinger of a prophecy about the bleak future. The last of the romantics, Gustav Mahler seems like a true contemporary of our times. His music resonating in its dissonance, but bitterly comforting in its soulful essence.
In fact it is only befitting that in this centennial year of his death, his music seems to be undergoing a second coming. How did he write his 2nd symphony, the “Resurrection”? What kind of genius could combine ferocity, noise and utter beauty in one long symphonic thread? Listening to it, what still manages to transcend the dark damp troublesome fearful movements are the dreamy interludes of musical poetry imparting a whiff of calm, even if not total hope. Through all the unknowns and uncertainties, which revel in their mockery of the modern world, the struggle of the final movement is an ode to the romantic period Mahler was rooted in – there is the struggle and the strife, there is also the distant glim of a solution materializing; in fact, there is even a tinge of hope, which quickly decays into a lull, as if Mahler catches himself being partial to his heart. In the end though, what is left after the travail is a skeleton of a memory, trying to gain strength from its nostalgic past, attempting a resurgence through belief alone. Will it succeed? That is where Mahler left us 100 years ago.
