428: Just about being just about ready.

Am I ready for jazz? Ten years ago I became obsessed by Frank Zappa, and marginally dipped into Captain Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica (a sort of mix between blues and free jazz influences). The first Zappa I ever heard was the three CD set Laether which features a widely varied sample of his music from his doofus comedy stuff to lengthy jazz experiments with instrument parts in clashing time signatures. I loved it all, but over the years have drifted more towards his more conventional song stuff like the album We're Only In It For The Money, therefore missing my chance to get into jazz at an early age. Around the same time as getting into Zappa I also got obsessed by Karlheinz Stockhausen, John Cage and Edgar Varese. Although I bought CDs and records by them, and still own them, more time was spent reading, talking and thinking about them than actually listening to their music. The only exceptions really are Poeme Electronique by Varese and Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano by Cage, which continue to be among my favourite pieces of music. The point is that despite getting dangerously close over the years I have never got properly into 'difficult' (i.e. challenging) instrumental music. I'm sure at times I've even expressed mild annoyance at the overall tone of jazz music; and my tastes vary cyclically so when I got into hip hop, funk, disco, that sort of stuff, I lost interest in the tough stuff.

Reading my way through the intelligent descriptions of Captain Beefheart's music in the biography by Mike Barnes I have felt the stirrings of excitement about difficult music that I haven't felt for a long time. It is a rediscovery, or a reawakening, or a rebirth, or a repaint of my once crazy musical tastes. Maybe I had become embarrassed by what I had decided was my own pretensions. I was not a musician so perhaps shouldn't be listening to such difficult stuff; pretentious like someone who doesn't speak Polish publicly reading literature in Polish and claiming they just like the way it sounds even if they don't understand it. Conspicuously consuming the un-comprehended language as though it is Kurt Schwitters sound poetry.

The Beefheart book has got me excited about colliding poly-rhythms and atonal clusters in a way I haven't felt for some time. It speaks of an album I have never heard of, but will be listening to soon when the download completes, Free Jazz by Ornette Coleman. Instrumental music is much more conducive to writing that music featuring voice. In fact the only thing worse that lyrical/vocal music is the fucking television. At the moment I have finished listening to Miles Davis' In a Silent Way, and am now enjoying Zappa's Hot Rats, which besides the Beefheart featuring Willie the Pimp I have never given much of a chance. With Hot Rats I'm reacquainting myself with the fairly familiar in order to ease myself into this vast and complicated world currently unknown to me. Jazz now seems to be grown up music for serious people, which is odd considering how crazy, innovative and even dangerous it used to be. In HMV in Manchester the Jazz section is tucked away at the back in a separate room, behind heavy doors, with the classical music. Speaking of classical music, I have been listening to a lot of Beethoven over the last few months, but if truth be told it is often the catchiest tunes that have captured my attention, particularly the famous Ode to Joy theme from the Choral. Baby steps into the worlds of grown-up music; and about fucking time.

Saint John Coltrane icon at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church

140: Beethoven's Eroica, Symphony no. 3, yeah?

While watching The Beauty of Diagrams: Vitruvian Man (because that’s the kind of guy I am; the kind who enjoys BBC4 documentaries about great historical diagrams) the urge took me to study the classics, to look closely at the notebooks and sketches of Da Vinci, to break out the biographies of Isaac Newton and Rene Descartes, to read Don Quixote and The Canterbury Tales, and with greatest immediacy to listen to Beethoven.  First thing is first... Eroica, Beethoven’s Symphony Number three.  Oh em gee!  I wish I knew how to express feelings for music of this kind.  I’ve rarely listened to it, or read about it, and wasn’t aware of the majesty, artistry and insanity of Beethoven until the Mark Steel Lectures a few years ago.

What do I do or say about this; I really can’t think.  One moment I am vanquished, another I am conqueror; time passes and I am bloodthirsty, then I am bruised and battle-weary.  The musical terms mean little to me, and the Italian and/(perhaps) or Latin confuses and frightens my uneducated brain.  Besides a vague idea about Beethoven’s admiration for Napoleon and the principals of the French Revolution, turning into wild rage upon hearing the news of Napoleon declaring himself Emperor, I know nothing about the time and place this music speaks of.  Basically what I’m saying, in the most word-clogged strung-out way available to me, is I don’t know much about music but I know what I like.

But the thing is, I had no idea how much I liked this until this evening.  I have known for a long time that I should like, nay love, Beethoven.  I had also decided, thanks to advice from Mark Steel, when I do finally get around to dipping my toe in, that Eroica was where I would begin.  It is a musical tale of Revolution, Enlightenment, Renaissance, of war, devastation, treachery and death. 

The glorious journey of the first movement, the Allegro con brio, reaches its conclusion and with baited breath I await the second movement, the Marcia funedre, but what does spotify toss my way instead?  “YOU’RE SHOPPING ONLINE... BUT YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE CAN YOU FIND THAT VOUCHER CODE?  WELL NOW YOU DO: SAVE.CO.UK JUST CLICK ON THE LOGO NOW.... NO FUCK OFF, YOU EVIL MARKETING BASTARDS, YOU ARE WORSE THAN NAPOLEON WHO DECLARES HIMSELF EMPEROR.  HE IS NO MORE THAN A COMMON MORTAL! NOW TOO, HE WILL TREAD UNDER FOOT ALL THE RIGHTS OF MAN, INDULGE ONLY HIS AMBITION; NOW HE WILL THINK HIMSELF SUPERIOR TO ALL MEN, BECOME A TYRANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Beethoven scratched out the dedication to Napoleon on Eroica’s title page with such ferocity that he tore a hole through the page.  When adverts for stupid websites and British Gas interrupt the world the music creates I want to scratch out spotify with a screwdriver, showering the bed sheets with shattered shards of screen glass.  Logic dictates that instead of harpooning my laptop I should download some CDs.  Honesty and integrity dictate I sign up for a spotify Unlimited account.  I wonder which will win.

I want to ride into battle ahead of my troops swinging my sword and screaming charge, down the valley and across the plain, crashing headlong into the enemy, smashing skulls and killing husbands and fathers.  I want the day to end with smouldering fires and men dying alone in shallow muddy graves, yet surrounded by so many others dying.  I want my bones to be left untouched on the battlefield as the seasons change and the bleaching sun turns into the rains that wash away the blood of the slain.  I want my victories and defeats to inspire the art and music, the hearts and minds, and the dreams and desires of generations to come.  Men will want to be me, women will want to be with me, scholars will want to know me, kings and leaders will crave my association, children will hear tales about my deeds, and historians will never ever let anyone forget me.

That is what listening to Beethoven does to you.