Tag: Brahms

Brahms fills in the gaps

Jon Jacob

Two accidents today.

Accident one: thinking on my way to a meeting ‘I’ll listen to some music on my headphones on the way in.’

Then thinking, ‘What the f**k do I listen to? How do I avoid crying?’

And then for some apparent reason I cannot fathom right now, I end up selecting Brahms Piano Quintet in G minor.

The heart tightens. The eyes flicker. Simmering emotion threatens to bubble over. I realise I’m actually terrified of listening to any music.

Of course, I’m not terrified of the music. I’m terrified of the emotional response I’ll have.

This in a sense seems odd given that I’m ALL about exploring emotions. So much so that if I didn’t have the opportunity to explore my own emotions then I’d feel like I’d had nothing to say.

The effect of Brahms’ epic chamber work (first heard up close in Verbier a few years ago – Thanks Kenny) is odd. It is as though the musical ideas expressed in both melody and harmonic progression taps into the emotions I’m feeling at the moment: the dominant ones. The music is triggering an emotional equalizer – an indicator of where I am at the present time.

Only what it ends up doing is shining a light on some unexpected emotions. A glimmer of reslience. A sense of hope. A determination to reframe sadness into something more positive. Something more manageable.

Why do we never talk about music like this? Surely, that would help in conveying its appeal? It’s addictive qualities? It’s not something that injects a feeling; it’s music that helps identify what’s going on. You don’t need to know about music to listen to it, you need to know about your own emotions. And the only person who’s going to know about them is you, no?

Accident two: paying for a glass of wine at the Barbican with my debit card.

Whilst scribbling I was listening to Brahms Piano Quartet in G minor played Renaud and Gautier Capucon, Nicholas Angelich, and Gerard Causse

How Stephen Hough and the Castalian Quartet touched the soul at Wigmore Hall

Jon Jacob

The quest to identify the music that helps create meaning for me in 2020 is now underway. Last nights Brahms Piano Quintet live from Wigmore Hall unexpectedly hit the spot.

First was the impact hearing Hough and the Castalian Quartet had on my ears.

Sure, there’ll be some I know who might consider a pretentious thing to say, but that view is just redolent of lack of practice actively engaging with live performance.

The sound refreshed my ears – similar to the experience of hearing straight after having your ears vacuumed out. In that way it reunited me with listening, bringing my listening alive, kickstarting the heart and nourishing the soul.

Here were human beings all collectively engaged in a battle of wits, a kind of fight to the death, and convening in a joyful concluding celebration. It was like a friend had burst through my office door, apologised for missing Christmas, and presented me with a gift as wide as his eager smile.

I’m reminded of a remark made by a colleague to me this week, berating me for referring to the ‘classical music world’ because it confers a sense of superiority. The coach in me would challenge that and ask whether that was an assumption, perception, or whether he had any evidence that I was actually conferring superiority.

The rub (which I will spell out to him when we next converse over wine) is that the thrill I experienced hearing what amounted to only 25 minutes of live music wasn’t to do with knowledge of the repertoire, or being a fan of Stephen Hough.

It was the effect the sound had on my soul. The physical sensation of hearing the sound (if you’re not at least aware of the principles of NLP then that sentence will appear like a contradiction). It was the way it triggered a sense of reassurance. How space in my mind had been momentarily reclaimed. And most importantly of all, how I reacted to it in the moment.

And that’s listening out for it not for the music but for the self. It’s about personal awareness. It’s about actively engaging in the experience of listening. And we can all do that in an instant, can’t we?

I’m not saying this is the way it needs to be listened to. Rather, this is one of the ways it can impact. And it’s softened the hard edges of the new year too. And its Brahms. And of course Brahms is just brilliant anyway.

Listen to the concert via Wigmore Hall’s Live Stream on YouTube

Proms 2009: Prom 51 – Brahms Violin Concerto Joshua Bell BBC Symphony Orchestra

Jon Jacob

After Friday night’s Proms experience, I was more than happy to remain at home for this particular Prom. Unlike those who insist the only decent listening experience is in the Royal Albert Hall, ten minutes into the BBC Symphony Orchestra’s performance of Haydn’s Clock Symphony, I was reminded why listening at home is theoretically a nicer experience.

There are no crowds, air temperatures can be maintained at an optimum level and the sound mix on the radio is perfect. This is a live performance optimised for a radio broadcast. Consequently, assuming the performers are tip-top then the complete package will be perfect too. Perfection added to by the ambience provided by nearly 6000 people who have trekked across London in the searing heat and occupied their little bit of territory in South Kensington. I sprawled out on the sofa and turned the levels up high.

My personal bookmark for Prom 51 was Joshua Bell’s performance of Brahms’ Violin Concerto. I’d looked forward to it all day. After Isabelle Faust’s Mendelssohn Violin Concerto and the daring (some still reckon foolhardy) execution of Tchaikovsky’s fiddle concerto, how would Joshua Bell deliver the Brahms? And would he make it alive from the auditorium if he did anything other that what the audience expected from this popular work.

Of course, I can’t be sure on the latter. I wasn’t there. But what I heard seemed clear enough.

Ask someone to give cast iron reasons why they’re in love with someone else and watch as they falter, stumbling as they offer joyless justifications for the emotional connection they hold dear to with the most important person in their life.

It’s the same with a brilliant performance. Listen to Joshua Bell’s rendition. Sure, I could list things like: the intonation was spot on; the way he phrased the theme in the first movement was exquisite; the ensemble playing was totally reliable. This would all be cold, uninteresting and pointless self-aggrandising babble. Flagging up anything negativity would achieve the same goal. It’s best not to say anything (which given that this posting amounts to approximately 500 words is stretching things a bit).

Instead, be content with the assessment that Joshua Bell’s Brahms Violin Concerto will definitely deliver – even to those who have never heard it before.

So good, in fact, it leaves me wondering just what mood Bell can be found in when he has an off day or worse, is caught playing one duff note. I’d like to see that – live in HD TV. I’d stay at home to watch it and I’d probably burn it to Blu-Ray too just so I have it for posterity.

After all, perfection isn’t everything unless accompanied by a smidgen of vulnerability, is it? I’m in no doubt Bell copes with off-days admirably. At least that’s the impression I get listening to him on the radio.