Kerry Candaele says he remembers exactly where he was when he first heard
's Ninth Symphony. He was in his 20s at the time, in the 1970s, driving
up the California coast in a car he'd borrowed from a friend. He popped
in a cassette he found, and what he heard both shocked him and
transported him.
Now, Candaele has turned his obsession with Beethoven's Ninth into a documentary film: .
He follows the Ninth around the world, to Chile and China, where it
became an empowering anthem of solidarity, and to Japan, where
performances of
— the Great Nine — are a cherished annual tradition.
"The Japanese identified with Beethoven," Candaele says. "You
know, the quintessential romantic figure of Beethoven as this man who is
tortured and struggles and overcomes and finally reaches this pinnacle
of artistic creation with the Ninth Symphony — his final symphony —
three years before he dies. "It became this yearly event where sometimes
5,000 people, sometimes 10,000 people, who have practiced singing in
German for six months, stand together in December and sing the 'Ode to
Joy.'"
Candaele, who also co-wrote a book on the topic with
Greg Mitchell, recently spoke with NPR's Melissa Block about the winding
journey of Beethoven's Ninth. Candaele recounts the Ninth's history —
from its use by Tiananmen Square protesters to drown out government
broadcasts to its appropriation by the Third Reich as a triumphalist
German anthem — as well as his own thoughts on Beethoven's intentions
for the music. Hear more of their conversation at the audio link (above).
An autographed portrait of Ludwig van Beethoven.
Hulton Archive/Getty Images
A new book, a new recording and some old instruments, all addressing the most memorable phrase in music: the opening of 's Fifth Symphony.
Matthew Guerrieri has written a book about this symphony, called
The First Four Notes: Beethoven's Fifth and the Human Imagination.
Guerrieri writes about how Beethoven's piece resonated with everyone
from revolutionaries to Romantics, and German nationalists to
anti-German resistance fighters.
So many people have found so
much meaning in just those first four notes. But Guerrieri says that we
really don't know all that much of what Beethoven meant by them.
"The
most common story that is told is that Beethoven allegedly said that
the opening of the symphony was supposedly symbolizing fate knocking at
the door. And this is probably an invention of his biographer, although
we can't really tell," Guerrieri tells NPR's Robert Siegel. "The other
story going around at the time that Beethoven wrote it was that he had
gotten the opening motif from the song of a bird. And that story just
sort of fell away as the fate symbolism took over. But in Beethoven's
time, and to Beethoven, that actually would have been a fairly noble way
of getting a musical idea."
A Romantic 'Bombshell,' Delivered By Beethoven's Fifth
In his book, Guerrieri writes:
"The
Romantic era [of the early 19th century] never really ended ... Every
time a singer-songwriter is praised for projecting autobiographical
authenticity, every time a movie star expresses the desire for a project
that is 'more personal,' every time a flop is subsequently
recategorized as a before-its-time masterpiece, all these are
reverberations of the bombshell of Romanticism. And one of its
pre-eminent delivery systems was Beethoven's Fifth."
Beethoven's Fifth And The Human Imagination
Hardcover, 304 pages
The author adds: "I think that the Romantic era is another thing
that we just sort of take for granted, because they've kind of always
been there for us. But it's amazing how many of these ideas were new
around the time that Beethoven was writing music. The whole idea that
music picks up where language leaves off — which is pretty much a cliche
nowadays — that was a very specific Romantic idea, and it's one that
lasted. Also, the idea that the artist is somehow more privileged in
accessing these things beyond language, in accessing the sublime, in
accessing glimpses of the divine, however you want to characterize it. A
lot of the ideas we use to talk about music are these ideas."
And
how to play those four notes? "The two things that have been argued
about more than any other technical aspect of the opening are the tempo
and the fermata that Beethoven stuck in the opening," says Guerrieri. "A
fermata is an indefinite hold — the conductor can hold onto a note as
long as he wants."
Holding On And Letting Fly: The Tempo
The
question of tempo relates back to an interesting story Guerrieri tells
in his book. The metronome was an invention of Beethoven's day; he
didn't have access to it when he was writing his early symphonies. But
later, he came into contact with it and loved the device. "He
immediately buys one and sits down and starts going back over all his
old scores and putting in metronome markings," Guerrieri says. "And he
picked a tempo for the Fifth Symphony that even today sounds really,
astonishingly fast."
The setting he chose was 108 beats per
minute — so fast, so hard to play, Guerrieri says, that people have been
theorizing for centuries about why Beethoven might have mismarked his
own symphony. A broken metronome? Advancing deafness? Nobody knows.
Dah-Dah-Dah-Duh For 'Victory'
Here's
one other story Guerrieri writes about those first four notes: In World
War II, the anti-German resistance in occupied Belgium needed a simple
graffiti symbol. A Belgian came up with the letter "V." It stood equally
for
victoire — "victory" in French — and
Vrijheid, or
"freedom," in Flemish. "Once that 'V' idea got back to the BBC and they
wanted to start using it in their overseas broadcasts," says Guerrieri,
"it was at the BBC that they had the idea of combining it with the
Morse code for 'V': three short and one long. Somebody at the BBC
realized that matches Beethoven's Fifth. So they could start using that
as a little tag to symbolize that [something] was going to be a
pro-Ally, propaganda broadcast from the BBC."
A Less Homogenized Fifth
There's a new recording available of Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 by
John Eliot Gardiner's Orchestre Revolutionnaire et Romantique — the
Revolutionary and Romantic Orchestra, or the ORR. They play what
Gardiner calls "transitional" instruments: They're not baroque, but not
modern. The strings are gut; the bows curve inward. "The primary
expression comes from the bow — with the right hand, not with the left
hand," the conductor explains. The horns are valveless: "It's got a much
rawer and a much more mellow sound than the modern horn, I think," he
adds. The woodwinds "have a specific timbre which distinguishes one
instrument — a flute from a clarinet, and an oboe from a bassoon — more
differentiated than you'll find in a modern symphony orchestra." The
timpani are played with hard wooden sticks on calfskin heads, "so
there's a much more percussive edge than the plump, plusher sounds of
the symphony timpani."
The result is an orchestra that sounds
less homogenized, with less of a velvet texture, than an orchestra of
modern instruments. "I call it much more multistranded, multicolored,"
says Gardiner. "It's like looking at the weave of a carpet when you can
see all the different strands, the different colors, woven one upon the
other, rather than meshed and blurred."
All Things Considered's
Robert Siegel says that he was particularly struck by Gardiner's new
recording, since he has for many years associated original instruments
with — "Vegetarianism?" Gardiner interjects playfully.
"Well, kind of a softer, not quite so robust sound," Siegel responds.
A Fifth With A More "Human" Sound
"That's
a misunderstanding," Gardiner says, "not on your part, but on the way
that so often these instruments are played in a bland, precious way. And
it's the opposite. To me, they're much more visceral, much more
emphatic, and kind of much more
human, in a way, than the much more sophisticated mechanisms of modern orchestras."
Gardiner
says emphatically that using period instruments isn't the goal in
itself. "I've never treated these instruments as though it's a kind of
antiquarian stunt," he says. "To me, they're a point of entry into a
different sound world from the one that we hear all the time."
As
for Gardiner's tempo, his first movement of the Fifth Symphony runs
just 6 minutes and 39 seconds. The famously fast conductor Arturo
Toscanini took 7 minutes and 13 seconds for one recording. At the other
end of the scale: In 1970, and the New Philharmonia Orchestra played
the opening movement of the Fifth in 9 minutes and 14 seconds; so
Gardiner and the ORR are speedsters.
Can an orchestra actually
play the opening movement at Beethoven's marked tempo of 108 beats per
minute? "With difficulty," Gardiner laughs. "It will tend to come
through as a mishmash. But it suggests urgency, doesn't it?"
A Revolutionary Spirit
"The
way I approach the Fifth Symphony's opening movement," Gardiner says,
"is via the French Revolution, which Beethoven was very caught up in at
the time, and the music associated with the French Revolution, and that
particular hymn [of Claude Joseph] Rouget de Lisle," who wrote
La Marseillaise: "I will die, sword in hand, for the rights of man and for the glory of the revolution and the Republic.
"If
it is in some sense a coded message of music without words," Gardiner
says, "then you've got an entry point to the Fifth Symphony. It doesn't
have to be fate knocking at the door. It gives a rhetoric and excitement
which I'm sure is implicit in Beethoven's notation."