Klarinet Archive - Posting 000649.txt from 2000/04

From: Shouryu Nohe <jnohe@-----.edu>
Subj: [kl] Some Personal Notes On Dvorak
Date: Sat, 15 Apr 2000 03:52:13 -0400

This will most likely be a rather lengthy post - and not very much on
topic, but I feel I have much to say at this moment. Right now, I stand
before you not as a clarinetist, bassist, contrabassist, or an otaku (of
sorts), but rather as a small child who has suddenly filled with an
immense wonder of the world around him. More or less, this post will help
me gain a greater understanding of myself, and maybe even you will come to
understand me more than I will.

There are a great many things that give me a good deal of satisfaction in
life - the feeling you quest that you can't quite describe, but it is
undeniably moving. The feeling of a suit one has freshly pressed...the
falling tresses that surround the face of a beautiful woman with an
innocent but captivating smile...the roar of a well tuned engine as it
pushes to redline and the velocity that accompanies it...staring into the
clearest night sky with the realization of just how minute our existance
within the universe is - for me, each of these is a notable experience in
which I find particular satisfaction. However, music has had a greater
effect on my entire life, especially since I first truly fell in love with
it.

I have always been involved in music - I often say that, "quite simply, it
is what I do." Since the age of 4, I had been singing my brains out, more
so that I probably sang more than I spoke, and things sort of snowballed
from there. But it was not until late in my freshman year in high school
that I verily, truly, undeniably fell in love with music.

I had been introduced to Dvorak's Ninth Symphony through marching band; my
freshman year, we performed an arrangement of the first, second, and final
movements - the same arrangement that the Phantom Regiment performed in
'89, but with woodwinds of course. I had pretty much liked the piece from
the get-go. It was intense and dark...but I, being a rather unlearned
musician, really had no clue as to just HOW watered down our eleven minute
arrangement was. The April of the same school year, I came across a
cassette of the London Symphony performing the work in its entirety at the
local Hastings. I purchased it, a little eager to hear it performed by
an orchestra.

I played the cassette and captivated immediately. I think that it was at
this very moment that I started to really fall in love with music. What I
was hearing was speaking to me so well that for several weeks, I would
wear headphones to bed, listening to the symphony in its entirety every
night. For years, it has always been the symphony that has had a
mysterious hold over me - sure, Mahler writes on the very essence of
existance, but for me, that particular spot has always been held by Dvorak
Nine, and I could never really explain why. There was a deeper meaning to
the work for me...one I couldn't describe, even after I entered higher
education and began studying music intensively.

I promised myself not long after purchasing the cassette that if I ever
had the opportunity to hear Dvorak Nine performed live, I would find some
way, ANY way, to be in attendance.

At 8 pm MDT on the 14th of April 2000, I stepped into the Abraham Chavez
Theatre in El Paso, Texas, to finally answer that promise. There was
nothing keeping me from this concert - had somebody chained one of my
limbs to a building, I would probably have gnawed it off to make it to
this concert. Oh sure, I'd heard the El Paso Symphony Orchestra on
numerous occasions, and always enjoyed it. But this was IT - this was the
real deal, Symphony No. 9 in E minor, Opus 95, live in concert.

In the fourth movement, as the symphony draws to a close, the strings
state the theme in a very grandiose and stately fortissimo, and the brass
answer with the resolving chords resulting in a sound that cannot be
described in words. It was the very instant BETWEEN the strings'
statement and the brass' entrance, that briefest of moments, that
everything suddenly fell into place - why the symphony has always held so
great a place in my heart, and why it affects me the way it does. There
are less than thirty seconds of music left in the work, and for that
entire time, and some time afterward, I am very, seriously NUMB.

There is no real way to convey to you what I felt this evening, although I
am sure that many of you have experienced it yourselves. For those of you
who haven't, I'm going to do my best to explain what all came crashing
down upon my psyche this evening.

I am my own guest conductor at live performances usually - and I suppose
it's pretty obnoxious to those sitting around me, and being aware of this,
I pretty much limit my conducting to movement of the hands within a box
about four inches square. Cues are still intense though...and this
evening, sitting in the grand tier of the theatre, I conduct the first
movement...but when the horns strike the main theme - the minor arpeggio
that is present throughout the entire symphony (and all its modal
variants) - it's hard to control myself. The hair on the back of my neck
is standing up, and my blood begins to boil a little as the music builds
in tension. There is a great deal of tension and resolution in the first
movement, and Dvorak's harmonic writing in tandem with his dynamic
contrast create a very solemn yet intensely exciting feeling of conflict.

The final chord brings this to a peak, and suddenly there is a great
pause...and an eerie serenity as the second movement begins. The opening
chords, while hauntingly beautiful, make me feel lost and disoriented...I
can't conduct this one suddenly. All I can do is lay my head against the
seat ad gaze in awe as the chords resolve in their blazing minor...and
with the start of the Cor Anglais solo, I have shut the world away
completely. But as beautiful as this melody is...it's the second theme
that wrenches me. As the strings execute the most delicate pizzicato, the
woodwinds emit this haunting soli in a minor mode...and I can almost feel
my heart stop beating. There is no more tension or resolution...

And the sudden return to major, I feel alive again, almost as if startled
to life by the returning them from the first movement...then the Cor
Anglais returns, and there is this overwhelming sense of relief.

I anticipate the third movement quite a bit...it doesn't get as much
airtime as the other movements of the symphony, and I've never understood
why - musically, it's my favorite. And tonight, emotionally, it nearly
drives me insane. Here, Dvorak builds tension...and builds tension...and
builds tension...no matter how tense you are driven, he finds a way to
increase that. Motivic themes in the woodwinds offset each other tense
enough for you? Let's add more instruments...more? Crank the
volume...more? We'll put the horns on a melismatic rhythm, blasting
redarndiculously loud, grating the two juxtaposed on three - then...no
resolution, just a moment of silence, and he starts over. And it
continues, with shifts between major and minor, and driving harder, and a
pentatonic scale here and a mode shift there and more growing
tensions...and to me, not only have I been pushed to the edge...I've also
been given a sense of satisfaction. Because it is NOW that I realize why
I've always liked this movement - because I see ALL of this finally coming
together, all the musical elements I just described, and to me, it's pure
genius.

When the fourth movement starts, I am conducting again...and I've been
pretty much set on fire by the horns and trumpets. As the movement pushes
on, the feeling intensifies, but without the insanity that consumed the
third movement. But as the themes begin to mellow and relax, I am moved
further and deeper in love with the whole work, finally beginning to feel
a REAL sense of peace and resolution with the symphony. The horns sing
the theme softly, and the strings invade, building to their
climax...theme...and then suddenly something like an icepick finds its way
directly between my eyes, and everything I have just tried to describe to
you (and VERY inadequately, I might add) implodes upon me and I begin to
tingle. The brass suddenly explode and I feel, more than ever, a
fantastic awe of my existance, of God, of Beauty, of Life, and a sudden
wonder and appreciation for the desire that my God placed in me to create
music. Moments later, as the final major third dissapates from majestic
splendor to silence, I realize that I haven't taken a breath since that
moment, and when the audience explodes in gratitude, I gasp in a breath
and recover from being tossed between love and hate, euphoria and anguish,
admiration and repulsion, conflict and peace. I am probably one of the
last ones to join the standing ovation...because I am too busy
thinking...feeling this work of art that I had adored over the years.

In one brief moment, everything I had learned over the past four years
suddenly made more sense than it ever had, and while I continue to strive
for music satisfaction in performance, I now know that can find greater
satisfaction in listening to music...and seeing what it can do to me, and
how I should strive to do the very same for others when I play.

For those of you out there who haven't experienced what I have just
described, I hope you find that someday. I certainly wasn't looking to
get what I got tonight - all I wanted was to hear Dvorak Nine performed
live, and what I got was a startling revelation as a musician in training.

If you've read this far, thanks for hearing me out...It was just something
I needed to share with you, so I could better understand it on my own, and
I hope you understand it, too.

J. M. Nohe
New Mexico State University
April 15, 2000

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