...and one could almost say that the best of us achieve joy through suffering

«...and one could almost say that the best of us achieve joy through suffering»

"The best" of us.

To remain in despair is a sign of endurance, just as it is a sign of deficiency to slide into stupidity after prolonged suffering.

Only those who, at the height of suffering, do not want to and cannot renounce love are capable of achieving joy.

"I want to demonstrate that those who act well and nobly can, FOR THIS REASON ALONE, endure misfortune."

At the height of suffering, one can reach joy only through love, the sole source of hope.

And even if your love were met with contempt or indifference and your solitude were irremediable, the rays of your love that failed to penetrate others to illuminate them will refract back to you, in an ecstasy of absolute splendor.

Suffering increases the capacity to "feel", to internalize, but, without love, instead of leading to joy, it leads to hell.

When I listen to Beethoven's Symphonies, I feel at one with the world, in a fusion of ecstasy with nature and its elements.

Dear Daniele,

i immediately gave a 'like' to your opening post of this topic and I had promised myself to reply calmly. Especially since your considerations came after a 'Beethovenian immersion' in Bonn. Now, I have nothing to object to regarding what you have maintained; I only want to bring two considerations and ask a question, also taking inspiration from Viola's response.

First consideration.

the parallel that I feel most strongly is the one with Dante. As you certainly remember, I had paired the Ninth Symphony, as an itinerarium, with the Divine Comedy. And it pleases me to find, from what I can understand from the lines you quote from that book you found, an 'opinion according to which, not the Ninth alone, but Beethoven's entire oeuvre would constitute a "going towards". Towards what?

"The stars", joy.

But neither the 'stars' of the Dantean Comedy nor the Beethovenian joy of the Ninth constitute a 'blessed destination', but rather the achievement of a new style with which to live through the tribulations of life... which remain! They remain for the best just as much as for others.

Second consideration.

I also liked what Viola wrote, for two reasons: the first - a bitter reason - is that she began by highlighting "the best", and the other because she spoke of Beethoven's symphonies as a "fusion of ecstasy".

Goodness!... Here comes the bitterness: ten or fifteen years ago, I too would have said the same things regarding Beethoven's symphonies. In fact, let me correct myself, I still say them now. It's just that of that fusion of ecstasy that Beethoven's symphonies constitute, I feel I am not a part of it. Perhaps I am not among the best?...

Question (which concerns precisely 'reaching'... joy or something else).

The authors of that book speak of every Beethovenian composition as a step in a construction. In the past, you spoke to me of the Beethovenian symphonic cycle as one of the three fundamental symphonic cycles in music history: those of Beethoven, Brahms, and Mahler. If I remember correctly, you added Shostakovich.

So, now I ask, do you think there is a directionality (a 'reaching', a 'going towards') even if we consider not the entire oeuvre of Beethoven but simply the symphonies?

And furthermore, can one perceive an itinerarium (towards what?) also in the other aforementioned symphonic cycles?

I ask this because since Viola has been in the forum, thanks to her stimuli, I have seriously undertaken my journey into Mahlerian symphonism after having concluded that in Brahms' symphonies. Perhaps for me, Mahler's time had not yet truly come.

Can Mahler's symphonies be linked by a common thread of consequentiality?

LucaCavaliere wrote:

Dear Daniele,

i immediately gave a 'like' to your opening post of this topic and I had promised myself to reply calmly. Especially since your considerations came after a 'Beethovenian immersion' in Bonn. Now, I have nothing to object to regarding what you have maintained; I only want to bring two considerations and ask a question, also taking inspiration from Viola's response.

First consideration.
the parallel that I feel most strongly is the one with Dante. As you certainly remember, I had paired the Ninth Symphony, as an itinerarium, with the Divine Comedy. And it pleases me to find, from what I can understand from the lines you quote from that book you found, an 'opinion' according to which, not the Ninth alone, but Beethoven's entire oeuvre would constitute a 'going towards'. Towards what?

«The stars», joy.

But neither the 'stars' of the Dantean Comedy nor the Beethovenian joy of the Ninth constitute a 'blessed destination', but rather the achievement of a new style with which to live through the tribulations of life... which remain! They remain for the best just as much as for others.

Second consideration.

I also liked what Viola wrote, for two reasons: the first - a bitter reason - is that she began by highlighting "the best", and the other because she spoke of Beethoven's symphonies as a "fusion of ecstasy".

Goodness!... Here comes the bitterness: ten or fifteen years ago, I would have said the same things regarding Beethoven's symphonies. In fact, let me correct myself, I still say them even now. It's just that of that fusion of ecstasy that Beethoven's symphonies constitute, I feel I am not a part of it. Perhaps I am not among the best?...

Question (which concerns precisely 'reaching'... joy or something else).

The authors of that book speak of every Beethovenian composition as a step in a construction. In the past, you spoke to me of the Beethovenian symphonic cycle as one of the three fundamental symphonic cycles in music history: those of Beethoven, Brahms, and Mahler. If I remember correctly, you added Shostakovich.

So, now I ask, do you think there is a directionality (a 'reaching', a 'going towards') even if we consider not the entire oeuvre of Beethoven but simply the symphonies?

And furthermore, can one perceive an itinerarium (towards what?) also in the other aforementioned symphonic cycles?

I ask this because since Viola has been on the forum, thanks to her stimuli, I have seriously undertaken my journey into Mahlerian symphonism after having concluded the one in Brahms' symphonies. Perhaps for me, Mahler's time had not yet truly come.

____

I AM SINCERELY MOVED.

Thank you, dear Luca.

(the best often do not realize they are the best, but they are!) :-)

____

Can Mahler's symphonies be linked by a common thread of consequentiality?

Viola wrote:

LucaCavaliere wrote:

Dear Daniele,

i immediately gave a 'like' to your opening post of this topic and I had promised myself to reply calmly. Especially since your considerations came after a 'Beethovenian immersion' in Bonn. Now, I have nothing to object to regarding what you have maintained; I only want to bring two considerations, and pose a question, also taking inspiration from Viola's response.

First consideration.
The parallel that I feel most strongly is the one with Dante. As you certainly remember, I had paired the Ninth Symphony, as an itinerarium, with the Divine Comedy. And it pleases me to find, from what I can understand from the lines you quote from that book you found, an opinion for which, not the Ninth alone, but Beethoven's entire oeuvre would constitute a 'going towards'. Towards what?

«The stars», joy.

But neither the 'stars' of the Dantean Comedy nor the Beethovenian joy of the Ninth constitute a 'blessed destination', but rather the achievement of a new style with which to live through the tribulations of life... which remain! They remain for the best just as much as for others.

Second consideration.

I also liked what Viola wrote, for two reasons: the first - a bitter reason - is that she began by highlighting "the best", and the other because she spoke of Beethoven's symphonies as a «fusion of ecstasy».

Goodness!... Here comes the bitterness: ten or fifteen years ago, I would have said the same things regarding Beethoven's symphonies. In fact, let me correct myself, I still say them now. It's just that regarding that fusion of ecstasy that Beethoven's symphonies constitute, I feel that I am not a part of it.

______________________

Regarding "fusion of ecstasy", I will let MEISTER ECKHART answer you:

That which I intend is ineffable. It unites one with one, it shines pure in the pure.

Until a few years ago, I was convinced I was an atheist.

The mountains and classical music have convinced me otherwise.

The beauty of Music, like that of the Mountain, is a beauty different from that which is purely aesthetic.

It is a tendency, at least as far as I am concerned, towards the Absolute.

What led me to Classical Music? Only Love.

For this reason, often, my reactions at the limit of paroxysm are not understood.

My fury is authentic, although it may be (also understandably) perceived as "insane".

I do not know how to express myself in this way regarding Music.

________________

Perhaps I am not among the best?...

Question (which concerns precisely 'reaching'... joy or something else).

The authors of that book speak of every Beethovenian composition as a step in a construction. In the past, you spoke to me of the Beethovenian symphonic cycle as one of the three fundamental symphonic cycles in the history of music: those of Beethoven, Brahms, Mahler. If I remember correctly, you added Shostakovich.

So, now I ask, do you think there is a directionality (a 'reaching', a 'going towards') even just when considering not all of Beethoven's work but simply the symphonies?

And furthermore, can it be perceived as an itinerarium (towards what?) also in the other aforementioned symphonic cycles?

I ask this because since Viola has been on the forum, thanks to her stimuli, I have seriously undertaken my journey into Mahlerian symphonism after having concluded the one in Brahms' symphonies. Perhaps for me, Mahler's time had not yet truly come.

____

I AM SINCERELY MOVED.

Thank you, dear Luca.

(the best often do not realize they are the best, but they are!) :-)

____

Can Mahler's symphonies be linked with a common thread of consequentiality?

LucaCavaliere wrote:

First consideration.
I feel the strongest parallel is with Dante. As you certainly remember, I had paired the Ninth Symphony, as an itinerarium, with the Divine Comedy. And I am pleased to find, from what I can gather from the lines you quote from that book you found, an opinion suggesting that not the Ninth alone, but Beethoven's entire oeuvre would constitute a 'going towards'. Towards what?

«The stars», joy.

But neither the 'stars' of Dante's Comedy nor the Beethovenian joy of the Ninth constitute a 'blessed destination', but rather the achievement of a new style with which to live through the tribulations of life... which remain! They remain for the best just as much as for others.

Question (which concerns precisely 'reaching'... joy or something else).

The authors of that book speak of every Beethoven composition as a step in a construction. In the past, you spoke to me of the Beethovenian symphonic cycle as one of the three fundamental symphonic cycles in music history: those of Beethoven, Brahms, and Mahler. If I remember correctly, you added Shostakovich.

So, now I ask, do you think there is a directionality (a 'reaching', a 'going towards') even if we consider not the entire oeuvre of Beethoven but simply the symphonies?

And furthermore, can one perceive an itinerarium (towards what?) also in the other aforementioned symphonic cycles?

I ask this because since Viola joined the forum, thanks to her stimuli, I have seriously undertaken my journey into Mahlerian symphonism after having concluded my journey through Brahms's symphonies. Perhaps Mahler's time had not yet truly come for me.

Can Mahler's symphonies be linked by a common thread of consequentiality?

The Beethovenian path is projected towards the future, a future that the composer from Bonn thought would be better. Future generations would be those who would understand his music, too absurd and difficult for the ears of the people of his time; furthermore, future generations would be the creators of those ideals advocated by the French Revolution and then betrayed and renounced first by Napoleon and then by the restoration resulting from the Congress of Vienna.

Beethoven reaches a point of contemplating suicide but then renounces it because he knows he has a mission to fulfill: to ensure that his music becomes Art and that through it, he can pass his message on to posterity. Beethovenian joy resides in this: the awareness of acquiring immortality through his music. And in this sense, not only his symphonies, but even before them the Sonatas for solo or accompanied piano—the crucible of his musical experiments—and, finally, the Trios, the Quartets, without neglecting the Concertos, his only opera, and the Missa Solemnis.

Brahms and Mahler, on the other hand, are expressions of the world at the end of the nineteenth century, where the pain of living, questioning the meaning of life, and the fear of living under an uninhabited sky dominate.

And if in Brahms the sentiment is melancholy, in Mahler, who belongs to the following generation, the sentiment that unites his symphonic corpus is the cry of a heart wounded deep within.

Shostakovich's path is that of a man who is an internal witness to the history of the Soviet Union until 1975. If one wants to understand the history of the Soviet Union, one cannot disregard the figure of this great composer and that journey of history in music that his symphonies represent.

LucaCavaliere wrote:

Second consideration.

I also liked what Viola wrote, for two reasons: the first—a bitter reason—is that she began by highlighting "the best," and the other because she spoke of Beethoven's symphonies as a «fusion of ecstasy».

Goodness!... Here comes the bitterness: ten or fifteen years ago, I would have said the same things regarding Beethoven's symphonies. In fact, let me correct myself, I still say them now. It's just that regarding that fusion of ecstasy that Beethoven's symphonies constitute, I feel that I am not a part of it. Perhaps I am not among the best?...

Who are the best?

Perhaps it would be necessary to give a sensible answer to this question. After that, once it has been found, we will be able to ask ourselves whether we are among the best or not!

I am sorry that Haydn does not appear. One might almost think that his misfortune was writing too many Symphonies (and indeed his one hundred and four Symphonies probably do not constitute a "symphonic cycle"). For Brahms, who knew better, four were enough.

RedScharlach wrote:

I am sorry that Haydn does not appear. One might almost think that his misfortune was writing too many Symphonies (and indeed, his one hundred and four Symphonies probably do not constitute a "symphonic cycle"). For Brahms, who knew better, four were enough.

...if that's the case, even Mozart doesn't appear; I don't know if you are equally sorry about that!

In reality, as you well know, one can speak of symphonic cycles from Beethoven onwards, i.e., when symphonies become a world.

That sly Brahms wrote "only" four symphonies. But... what Symphonies!!!!

danielescarpetti wrote:

In reality, as you well know, one can speak of symphonic cycles from Beethoven onwards, that is, when symphonies become a world.

. . . in effect

'Symphony' is a word that defines many "things" that have very little in common with each other.

Ahhh... It occurred to me that Bach wrote 15 . . . symphonies

danielescarpetti wrote:

...if that's the case, even Mozart doesn't appear, I don't know if you feel the same way!

In reality, as you well know, one can speak of symphonic cycles from Beethoven onwards, i.e., when symphonies become a world.

hi Daniele

I was thinking these days: it seems to me that Mozart's three symphonies 39, 40, and 41 constitute a true symphonic cycle.

Furthermore, I was thinking about... what do we mean (or at least what do I mean) by symphonic cycle?

I have arrived at this answer: a homogeneous period in terms of language and style, within which, however, the various specimens (the individual symphonies) differ greatly from one another.

For Beethoven (just to take one at random), there are three symphonic cycles: the first of which the first two symphonies are part; the second of which the symphonies from the Eroica to the Eighth are part, and the third of which the Ninth constitutes the first - and unfortunately the last - symphony.
It is nothing more than everything you were already telling me quite a few years ago.

But what I cared about more now was noting Mozart's last three symphonies: so stylistically homogeneous, yet so far from one another on an emotional level.

Hi Luca!

In the context of music history, the term symphony has taken on many and disparate meanings, and it was only in the 18th century that it became an orchestral composition divided into multiple movements.

Within the Germanic sphere, the turning point that led to the "Classical Symphony" was driven by the Mannheim school and the birth of that cultural movement named Sturm und Drang.

It was from these premises that Joseph Haydn's Symphonies were born first, and subsequently and simultaneously those of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

The shift that led the Symphony in the 80s of the 1700s to become increasingly a medium for conveying essential and important thoughts—thereby making it a more demanding work both on a technical and expressive level—is naturally due to these two composers.

This meant that the composition of new symphonies became somewhat less frequent, especially in Mozart's case.

His last 3 symphonies were composed in 1787; after that, in the four subsequent years leading up to his death, Mozart did not compose any more.

In this sense, one could say they can be considered a "symphonic cycle."

But even more than them, I think Haydn's last 12 symphonies—the "London" symphonies, which range from No. 93 to 104, composed between 1791 and 1795—should be considered a "symphonic cycle."

It was from these "symphonic cycles" that the first true symphonic cycle, Beethoven's, took its cues.

. . . and so we also brought in Mozart and Haydn

Were Haydn's London symphonies known to Beethoven?

But more generally I wonder (I am asking you) . . . in studies on Beethoven, is there research on which were the great and less great works of his contemporaries that he had direct knowledge of?

The London symphonies could only have been aware of Beethoven, given that they were composed largely during the period when the young composer from Bonn was a pupil of Haydn. He probably studied and re-studied them, and on the other hand, one only needs to listen to them to verify how much influence they had on him.

Mozart was a composer who was hyper-performed, both in terms of symphonies and piano concertos - and even operas - in Vienna; this is reported in all the chronicles of the time.

Beethoven was fully aware of the major works of his two predecessors, and there is no doubt about this.

Let's say that Beethoven's first symphony has a lot of Haydn, already from the second there is a great fracture... this is also shown by Haydn's reaction after listening to his protégé

AbateFaria wrote:

Let's say that Beethoven's first symphony has much of Haydn, and starting from the second there is already a great fracture... this is also shown by Haydn's reaction after listening to his protégé

Yes, certainly that is so, and on another part of the forum, I remember we had discussed it in this regard.
What I am referring to in particular, however, are certain musical ideas and constructions that already belonged to Haydn and Mozart and which Beethoven took up and developed - or even distorted - in his own way.

In the construction of the Symphony, such as, for example, the introductions in the first movement in Adagio, which are very typical of Haydn...

On the other hand, the history of Western music is this: a great river that swells with water or vice versa, experiences times of drought, compared to what happened further upstream, and finds its lifeblood in its Greco-Christian roots.

These days, a commentator from the Radio 3 program "Lezioni di musica" said, for example, what I think is utter nonsense: all of us - us as composers - come from Mozart. And where does Mozart come from? Mozart derives from his predecessors at least as much as those who come after him, ignoring, at least up to a certain point, the great figure of Johann Sebastian Bach. That legacy, instead, is summarized and finds new life precisely in Beethoven, who manages to be the heir to everything: of the classical sonata form but also of counterpoint, creating that union, that brilliant hybrid that will characterize his late style.

Speaking of Mozart, actually, I wouldn't know how to say – he represents, as always, the "most difficult" case. Nor do I know what that composer meant when he said "we all come from Mozart." Curiously, however, I was thinking something similar some time ago, reflecting on the fact that it is impossible to deny Mozart because he is too natural: in this regard, he is the most classic of classics, in the sense that his best ideas (simple or difficult, but often the simplest) sound so natural as to be impersonal, as if they pre-existed Mozart, or as if they existed despite him. It is impossible to deny him; it would be like denying the air we breathe or the water we drink (of course, there is always the usual Gould who finds a way to deny even Mozart!). Instead, the presence of Beethoven is too looming and even threatening – a parent who is not always possible even to tolerate: sometimes, in fact, it is quite necessary to deny him. Haydn is certainly different. It is impossible not to love him. In fact, I think he is loved more the more easily he is forgotten, because every time there is the pleasure and wonder of rediscovery.

But thinking about that "through suffering," other things come to mind – I suspect that Haydn's misfortune, besides having written too many Symphonies, is another: having suffered too little. And along with Haydn, Mendelssohn comes to mind: both characterized by a good-natured superiority (probably for this reason they are appreciated especially by the most civilized societies – and by "civilized" I mean more orderly). And then Richard Strauss, whose tone poems cannot become a "symphonic cycle," unlike Mahler's Symphonies – not so much because they are not Symphonies, but rather because they do not have a subsequent number. After all, even numbers serve to orient us: Symphony 1, Symphony 2, Symphony 3 ... and thus the dominant seventh chord is "the beginning," and joy is "the conclusion" (always because there was no Symphony 10), simulating a kind of life cycle.

"Through suffering" ... One hears people say, for example, "a labored page" [una pagina sofferta]: an expression that means everything or nothing at the same time (sometimes the most tormented and complex things burst forth with immediate force from an instinctive approach; other times, the composer will have damned himself to give an air of "naturalness" to a couple of bars that, in performance, will never reveal, through their fluency, the hours they cost him). But then – "through suffering" – not being able to advocate as Bruckner's and Tchaikovsky's causes deserve, I would at least recall the name of a composer who is perhaps the excess of these "qualities" (as in Mahler, perceptible even through the most serene and luminous landscapes) that relegates [others] "to the margins": in Schubert, a few bars in B minor are enough to create a vast world – the vastness is enclosed like a premonition in those few bars. I don't know if his is a symphonic cycle. Perhaps the Symphonies of Sibelius will be a symphonic cycle, which perhaps reach our ears a bit too foreign, a bit too distant, surrounded by a light a bit too diffused (even though they are as precious as anything we might have the chance to know).

A savior from the risk of bad rhetoric, which is always lurking with this subject matter, is Massimo Troisi: in an unforgettable sequence from one of his films, left by Francesca Neri, persecuted by an intrusive friend, he wanted to be granted the solitude necessary to manage to "suffer well."

Open content (youtube)

RedScharlach wrote:

Speaking of Mozart, in reality, I couldn't say – he represents the "most difficult" case as always. Nor do I know what that composer meant when he said "we all come from Mozart." Curiously, however, I was thinking something similar some time ago, reflecting on the fact that it is impossible to disavow Mozart because he is too natural: in this regard, he is the most classic of classics, in the sense that his best ideas (simple or difficult, but often the simplest) sound so natural as to be impersonal, as if they pre-existed Mozart, or as if they existed despite Mozart. It is impossible to disavow him; it would be like denying the air we breathe or the water we drink (of course, there is always the usual Gould who finds a way to deny even Mozart!).

I don't know if Mozart is the "most difficult" case in general, but for me he certainly is. He is so in the sense of my personal relationship with this composer. And this difficulty stems from what are many judgments by musicologists, musicians, and professors of various musical disciplines regarding him, with which I cannot identify myself; and here—let it be absolutely clear—it is not a matter of disavowing him, but of trying to understand what his real importance was within the history of music and what the overall judgment of his work should be.

The case I reported above is—naturally, my point of view—the umpteenth example of an uncritical and fanatical judgment given to a certainly great composer who cannot be considered the progenitor of anything.

Instead, the presence of Beethoven is too looming and even threatening – a parent who is not always even bearable: sometimes, in fact, it is quite necessary to disavow him.

I have a vague suspicion that those who disavow Beethoven—starting with Chopin—do so only because they are unable to understand him.

Haydn is certainly different. It is impossible not to love him. In fact, I think he is loved more the more easily he is forgotten, because every time there is the pleasure and wonder of rediscovery.

But thinking about that "through suffering," other things come to mind – I suspect that Haydn's misfortune, besides having written too many Symphonies, is another: having suffered too little. And along with Haydn, Mendelssohn comes to mind: both characterized by a good-natured superiority (probably for this reason they are appreciated especially by the more civilized societies – and by that I mean more orderly ones). And then Richard Strauss, whose symphonic poems cannot become a "symphonic cycle," unlike Mahler's Symphonies – not so much because they are not Symphonies, but rather because they do not have a following number.

Haydn, on the other hand, is certainly more of a progenitor within the realm of Mozart's classicism, but Haydn's misfortune is not that of having suffered too little, but that of having encountered Mozart first and then Beethoven on his path as a composer.
Mendelssohn, however, is a completely different case: Mendelssohn is a composer who might not have existed in the history of music, and not a single comma would have changed. Today we would be without so much beautiful music, but from the standpoint of historical evolution, nothing would have happened.

The difference between a "symphonic poem" and a symphony lies in the fact that the former is descriptive music, the latter is pure music. Strauss deliberately chose to follow the first path rather than the second. This does not change the fact that, from a symphonic point of view * and naturally not just symphonic - he was not a very great one.

"Through suffering" ... One hears people say, for example, "a labored page": an expression that means everything or nothing at the same time (sometimes the most tormented and complex things burst forth with immediate force from an instinctive approach; other times the composer will have damned himself to give an air of "naturalness" to a couple of bars that, in performance, will never reveal, through their fluency, the hours they cost him). But then – "through suffering" – not being able to advocate as they deserve the causes of Bruckner and Tchaikovsky, I would at least recall the name of a composer who is perhaps the excess of these "qualities" (as in Mahler, perceptible even through the most serene and luminous landscapes) relegated to the "margins": in Schubert, a few bars in B minor are enough to create a vast world – the vastness is enclosed like a premonition in those few bars. I don't know if his is a symphonic cycle. Probably the Symphonies of Sibelius will be a symphonic cycle, which perhaps reach our ears a bit too foreign, a bit too distant, surrounded by a light a bit too diffused (despite being the most precious thing we would have the chance to know)."], "quality":{"meaning_preserved":true,"instructions_ignored":true,"confidence":1.0}}

Schubert's symphonic cycle is such unconsciously, just as Schubert was a giant composer in an unconscious manner.

“Through suffering”... and thus the dominant seventh chord is “the beginning,” and joy is “the conclusion” (always because there was no Symphony 10), simulating a kind of life cycle.

What exactly was suffering in Beethoven, and why can one only become the "Best" through it?

Socrates and Jesus were his examples, and I have already said everything there.

To be the "best" means to be bearers of good and beauty despite your life being studded with suffering. And, in Beethoven's case, to have been a genius who sets to music "all men shall be brothers" while hunched on the stool, overcome by severe stomach pains and while completely deaf. (Corrado Augias)

I am only responding now because it took me a few days to recover from the violent shock caused by reading a couple of sentences. The kind of thing that makes you lose sleep. I wondered: how can one write the opposite of the truth with such tranquility? I answered myself: it is probably irony (even if its meaning escapes me). But then doubt assailed me: perhaps it happens that someone, passing through here by chance, reading these sentences does not interpret them as irony, but takes them seriously. And this doubt distressed me. I therefore feel duty-bound to reassure the reader who happened to come here by chance and is as distressed as I am, both regarding Mendelssohn (I confirm that if Western music history had not existed it would have been different – and not just poorer – even without taking into account the turning point represented by the performance of the St. Matthew Passion, but limiting ourselves to considering his contribution to symphonic-choral literature, perhaps even thinking only of a single example like the Deutsche Requiem, but also to the piano writing, perhaps even thinking only of the infinite klavierstücke that came after his, or – if we want to descend, or ascend, on a technical level, to the ratio of orchestral weights, to the ability to turn harmony and phrasing together with a very light gesture – a gesture to which Brahms himself often seems to aspire ... but anyway, one only needs to see a page of http://ks.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/f/f6/IMSLP104226-PMLP18979-Mendelssohn_op.090_Sinfonie_Nr.4_1.Allegro_vivace_MGA_fs.pdf to realize it) and also regarding Mozart (and here that something imponderable is added, which Richard Strauss had captured so well: both in theatrical opera and in instrumental music, ultimately always of a vocal nature). Ah! Since I also mentioned Strauss, it would be curious to listen to the tone poems as if they were symphonies ... Aus Italien is Symphony No. 1, Macbeth (whoever has heard it, raise your hand) is Symphony No. 2, Don Juan is No. 3 and Tod und Verklärung is No. 4, Till Eulenspiegel is No. 5, Also sprach Zarathustra is No. 6, Don Quixote is No. 7, Ein Heldenleben is No. 8 and Domestic Symphony is No. 9, and appropriately Eine Alpensinfonie is No. 10 (if I haven't forgotten anything, we are more or less there, in terms of numbers). Let us also take Metamorphosen into account, obviously. In short, would anything change in our consciousness of these works? Would we be able to consider them stages of a single journey? Finally, the doubt remains that on Strauss, but also on Dvořák, Tchaikovsky and especially on Sibelius, Adorno's veto continues to weigh, even unconsciously: in Italy more than elsewhere. But even if we did not take all this into account, the fundamental doubt remains another: why must we direct our consciousness toward something "objective" (and here the quotation marks are truly indebted to Adorno) such as music history? Why should the composer above – but it could very well have been Richard Strauss again – have filtered his personal recognition of Mozart through an "objective" evaluation of his weight in music history, when the direct and unfiltered weight is so strong in his musical consciousness? I therefore wonder if stomach aches and deafness, although undeniably signs of human suffering, turn out to be very little compared to a comprehensive vision of the world, such as the one that emerges from listening to the work of a composer (and I refrain from writing "of a true composer"!). Who knows why two figures as distant as Sibelius (again) and Feldman come to mind together!

The shock you felt is probably very similar to mine, when speaking of Brahms in the past, you made very questionable statements regarding his compositional value.

Back then - unlike you - I replied to you immediately, hiding my disappointment, also because I wondered if it made sense for a mere classical music listener to place themselves above a music professional.

Today, as then, I ask myself once again, and that is why I, too, am replying to you late this time.

I do so because if one thing has been absolutely clear to me for a long time is that even among music professionals, there is nothing that is true or the opposite of true when they express their opinions on musical matters. One only needs to think of the judgments that composers - or musicians in general - have given - or give - regarding their contemporaries or those preceding them, and one immediately realizes how extremely relative everything is and, above all, how much those judgments are actually tied to their personal tastes.

Let us therefore first clear the field of what was the merit of the conductor Mendelssohn, namely having brought Bach back to life, because, clearly and obviously, it has nothing to do with the point I was making.

I was talking about the composer Mendelssohn and his influence within the history of music, and only that.

And so let's see what Massimo Mila said in 1963:

Original and new genius. Mendelssohn is at the same time a conservative and classical genius. (...) to Schumann he appeared as "the Mozart of the 19th century" (...) what attracts us and moves us in his music is not the strange and the new, but precisely the lovely and the customary.

Coming to Giordano Montecchi in 1998:

(...) Mendelssohn can be defined as a romantic musician (and if so, in what sense) or is he not rather to be understood as an epigone of classicism or as an exponent of a pacification under the banner of Biedermeier. Both stylistically and ideologically, Mendelssohn undoubtedly expressed a rather vigilant, sometimes severe, orientation towards novelty, forward leaps, and the musical messianism that was beginning to circulate in those years (...).

And finally Daniel Barenboim in 2007:

There are several criteria for establishing the importance of a composer: on one hand, there is the simple question of merit, namely the beauty of a work; on the other, one must take into account its position in the historical development of music: Without doubt we would be infinitely poorer without the music of Mendelssohn (,,,) however, if he had never existed, the development of musical history would have been more or less the same.

So at this point, what is the true and the opposite of true?

As for the other composers you mention and Adorno, I understand and do not quite understand what they have to do with all this and especially with suffering - perhaps we should discuss it in other topics - but I think that today, what Adorno said and wrote is completely outdated and must be placed within its historical, political, and musical context. And on this too, I think my position is clear.

ps: As for Tchaikovsky regarding suffering, I think he has little to envy from anyone.

I also believe that my judgment on Brahms is debatable, as is my judgment on anything else: debatable in the sense that I am absolutely willing to discuss it, and perhaps even to call it into question. I should therefore specify that for his music I actually feel a kind of boundless love, albeit tinged with some reservations regarding what I might define as a form of self-representation surfacing at certain moments… It would take a while to explain (it is, in a sense, a psychological projection), but that is not the point right now (even if it somehow relates to the theme "through suffering"). The point is precisely the relationship between judgment and taste, which you rightly speak of. The problem is: must our judgment be mediated by something objective? And should this something objective be history? (But even here I would like to open another parenthesis to ask myself whether it wouldn't be better to replace "judgment" with "listening").

History is, for better or worse, something complex; of all its facets, one of the most complex is the evolution of compositional techniques (in reality, I don't remember ever having read anything truly persuasive about the contribution of the individual composer to the history of music). Furthermore, it seems to me that during the twentieth century, the "music history manual" has become a kind of "impossible object," if not a framework that must be continually called into question: in short, it must be an object of criticism, and not the foundation of judgment. I therefore do not trust history reduced to a pithy formula. Above all, I cannot trust history when it transforms into "historical judgment." The study of history—I am talking about the history of music, but perhaps it applies in general—should for me mean one thing in particular: openness. Curiosity, knowledge, perhaps understanding, and finally, openness. The opposite, therefore, of "if it had never existed." I do not trust history when, reduced to "objective" (forgetting, therefore, that it is our own construction), it becomes the subject of aesthetic judgment. In comparison, I trust—I would say almost blindly—the "subjective" of those who, practicing music every day, can no longer distinguish between "historical scope" and "aesthetic value," but observe—rather, feel—in a global, organic, ecological way; of those who orient themselves based on a "presentiment" that has been shaped by rationality, but which does not stop at such rationality nor remains imprisoned by it (but I would absolutely not limit this discussion to the professional musician—one practices music first and foremost by listening); of those who do not need, to recognize the value of something fundamental to their own lives, to know where it sits in a ranking compiled based on its importance in the evolution of musical language. This is because, ultimately, when we listen, or perhaps when we play, or when we look at a score, that thing—even while carrying with it centuries of past and future history—becomes irreducibly present, right before us, indeed within us, and everything is absorbed into the present that attention requires or almost physically imposes.

Nothing is more revealing than the authorities we choose to strengthen or found our arguments. The three citations—perfect (or imperfect) examples of "historical judgment" in which "the objective" turns into its opposite—only serve to consolidate my convictions.