I used to hate classical music. Just hate it.
Sometimes our band director would take us to the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra at the Windspear Centre in downtown Edmonton. It was supposed to be a big treat but I loathed going. Usually, if I could, I’d “accidentally” fall asleep, because the music was so “peaceful.”
Worst of all was anything with singing in it.
But in recent years (and maybe this means I’m getting old) I’ve been struck by the rarity of beautiful things. The Psalms, especially when sung by a congregation, are beautiful. Creation is beautiful. But we live in a world that increasingly scorns that which is truly beautiful. Accordingly, true beauty is scarce in our society. We’ve got glam and glamour, fake this and fake that, in heaps and heaps and heaps. The music of the day hardly deserves to be called music! More like a trash heap of recycled, trend-worn, superficial sayings of no meaning and no worth. The tunes are blandly interchangeable, each one offering all icing and no cake. The words? Horrendous. Music is now far more a business than an art and the bottom line ($) is all that matters. This reality impacts quality and content.
Well, as a result, I’ve been turning to older things. And, in general, I’ve been impressed. So much that is consigned to the uniformity of the “classical” designation is truly, deeply, and patiently beautiful.
For me, it started with Tchaikovsky and Albinoni and Mozart, before others were added – Rachmaninoff, Elgar, Schumann, and others.
I began to realize – you know what? I like the sound of a lot of classical music (by the way, if it’s traditionally composed and pays homage to that “classical” sound, I call it classical). It’s beautiful, artful, and tastefully produced.
That’s certainly the case with the one I’m sharing with you today, a favorite of mine: the Lacrimosa Sequence from Mozart’s Requiem.
If it’s not your cup of tea, that’s alright – I understand 😉
P.S. If you ever need help falling asleep, consider Chopin’s Nocturnes. Trust me, they’ll knock you out. Especially his Op. 9, No. 2 in E flat. Sleep in musical form.
~ Martyn McGrath
