The Magical Music of Disney

Who doesn’t love Disney? If you were at the Magical Music of Disney concert on July 16th or 17th you know that not too many people don’t. Mary Poppins, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid? You can probably hum a lot of those tunes without even thinking about it. I will even go out on a branch and admit that I’ve played a lot of them in band during my high school and college days. The vast spectrum of appreciation was reflected in the diversity of the audience - I have never seen such a range of people at the Strathmore! There were all ages and types of people enjoying music that is truly timeless.

Although it sounds odd, I hope a lot of those people were not regulars to the Strathmore and the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. I think a lot of cultural organizations fall into somewhat of a rut at times, as they tend to draw the same audience over and over again. It’s obviously great to be a repeat patron, but part of the mission of a symphony orchestra should also be to expose as many people as possible to the joys of music. As I was looking around last Thursday night at all the young people (in some cases very young people) in the audience, I was glad to see so many being exposed to great music at such a young age. Hopefully, those children will start building memories around those great tunes that same way that so many previous generations have. The movies of Walt Disney, and the excellent music that always accompanies them, have become part of our culture and I sure hope it stays a part. A large chunk of that audience was not alive when Julie Andrews sang in Mary Poppins (I wasn’t), and many probably weren’t even alive when The Little Mermaid made such a splash in the late 1980’s, but they definitely seemed to know the music. Through great summer programs like this one (and through the magical marketing of Disney), this great music will hopefully be passed down for years to come.

Another magical moment that I had at this concert was when it dawned on me that I was able to follow along with the movie just by hearing the music. Over the orchestra, a giant projection screen was showing stills or clips from the movie that the music was selected from. Outside of the orchestra, there was no sound or dialogue attached to the films and photos. Hearing the music while also seeing these silent clips of the movie reminded me how much of a story music really can tell on its own. Through the emotion in the music you are able to figure out who the bad guys are, when things are going well for the hero, and when love is in the air. Additionally, I was reminded of how much a movie would lose if you stripped away its musical component. Most people out there could probably hum at least a few bars from The Lion King, and probably even sing the songs, but do you really know more than just a random quote or two from the non-musical dialogue? A movie without music, like a world without Disney, would truly be a good bit less magical.

Mozart and his Requiem

I respect Mozart and his influence on western music as much as the next consumer of classical music, but I have always been more drawn to the emotionally charged pieces of the romantic period and the intellectual depth of modernism. Mozart’s works are technically flawless, but there is something about many of them that just doesn’t connect with me personally. The Requiem is different. It’s so full of textures and emotion. At times it is tender, and at other times it is fiery. At its core, it is a profound piece of music that masterfully combines a beautiful orchestra with a powerful choir and soloists. To see it performed by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra in the Strathmore on March 7th was a joy for the eyes and ears.

Before delving into the history of the piece, one is first struck by the technical aspects. This is a big piece of music - literally. Strings and brass and vocal soloists, and a massive choir bring this piece to life. Watching this piece unfurl, I thought to myself how difficult it must be to keep something this grand together. I love watching conductors, seeing how they control the environment with subtle or gargantuan gesticulations, so seeing conductor Jun Märkl sweeping the air so grandly as to be seen by the last row of the choir was a thing to behold. I would also be a traitor to my instrument if I did not point out that this is one of the first times that the trombone is seen in such a prominent position. The fact that low brass even had a spot in a classical piece is notable, not to mention some beautiful solo parts.

The true allure of this piece is the mystery that has surrounded it since its composition in 1791 (you could even say it started even before composition, as Mozart was so unclear of the identity of the man that came to him to commission it). I have always been captivated by stories behind the music, and how fate and circumstance molded the modern perception that we have of a piece of music, and Mozart’s Requiem, a piece written for the powerful circumstance of death, takes the cake in this respect. The story is so compelling that it has been retold as a short play by Pushkin, an opera by Rimsky-Korsakov, and a play by Peter Shaffer which was later adapted into 1984’s Best Picture of the Year – Amadeus. As the story (I apologize for abridging it so) goes, that Mozart did not know the gentleman who had commissioned this piece, and with his health diminishing as he wrote the piece, he mistakenly embraced the logic that the death mass must be for him. This belief must have fueled him to work on the piece with a special dedication, even as his death became imminent. The Lacrimosa section was the last music that Mozart ever wrote, leaving his pupils to finish the Requiem.

It’s a sad story, but, in an odd way, it seems morbidly appropriate for a man who gave so much to our musical tradition. Psychologists (as well as experience and common sense) tell us how the fear of death and the desire to leave a legacy are powerful drivers of our actions here on earth. Mozart saw both in this piece. This confluence of emotion and talent in composition is something remarkable and desperately uncommon. Although the Requiem might not have been intended for him, it is his. In listening to it, you can see and hear a genius searching for his place in this world and the next.