The changes in classical music over the centuries reveal a lot about our relationship to God. Let’s take a look.
Here is a sampling of Gregorian Chant:
Beautiful chants, are they not? Gregorian Chant goes back to the 10th century. Simple. One line of melody. Totally focused on God. Tightly structured. If you want to meditate or pray and bring peace to your soul, what could help more than Gregorian Chant?
Now on to the Baroque, my favorite period of classical music. Here is the Kyrie from Johann Sebastian Bach’s famous Mass in B Minor, completed in 1749:
We’ve skipped over a lot of musical development, so you’ll notice quite a difference in Bach. We still have very structured composition, but with instrumentation, a wider range of emotion expressed in the music and the vocals, and of course much more complexity in the structure of the music itself. We are naturally attracted to the music.
Now we move forward about 80 years to the Classical Period, and Dream of a Witches’ Sabbath, from the famous Symphonie fantastique, by Hector Berlioz, first performed in 1830.
Things are starting to get a little weird. Wide, if not wild, variations in mood, tempo, instrumentation. Structurally, it’s hard to predict what’s coming next. Some passages are quite pleasant to the ear, others, not so much. And of course God is not the focus in this particular piece; instead, we look inward as Berlioz presents us with a sort of autobiographical musical sketch of unrequited love.
On to Alban Berg (1885-1935), renowned for his innovation. Here is an example of his atonal music, a form that was not his invention, but one he is considered a master of.
Hard to understand where these violin concertos are going; they are very personal compositions. Discordant throughout; not particularly pleasant to listen to. The reflected sound of a confused and aching soul, to my ear.
Moving on, here is Harry Partch (1901-1974), with The Bewitched – Scene 5: Visions Fill The Eyes Of A Defeated Basketball Team In The Shower Room, composed in 1955.
One wonders what audience, if any, the composer is trying to entertain, beyond himself.
Last but not least, from 1952, is 4:33, by John Cage (1912-1992). It is not a Monty Python sketch.
Something is definitely lacking here; I think you can figure it out without any help from me.
An intellectual and spiritual focus on God produces beautiful music. As we shift focus inward, thinking less of God and more of ourselves, music becomes progressively more confused, harsh, despairing, erratic, over-intellectualized, and eventually, utterly absurd.
With God, the sky is the limit with regard to our creativity; without God, creativity becomes an exercise in how low we can go. This may not be the intention of modern composers, but it seems to be the unavoidable result of seeing blank sheet music as a mirror rather than a window to Heaven.
Personally speaking, if my soul were a song, I’d like it to sound like one of Bach’s.
Reflection
What song will my soul sound like today?
