Before We Meet Next Time, Let’s Put Our Ears T’gether

Image: Taken in 2015 in a church in Zurich, Switzerland

‘It does no harm to listen to Bach from time to time, even if only from a hygienic standpoint.’
                                                                                                          —Sviatoslav Richter

With concerts cancelled everywhere around the world, YouTube is the next great platform for listening to music. Not only is it convenient, but the comments by netizens there always add to the entertainment. Two months ago, when I was still able to work in the office, I was listening to some music on YouTube. When a video ended, I was directed automatically to the English Suite No. 2 in A Minor, BWV 807 by J.S. Bach, a piece I have long forgotten. So I decided to put it on my playlist. A search for this Suite brought me to recordings by various maestros, and the first thing I did, of course, was to scroll down to the comments, where I came across these two lines recurrently under different videos:

‘Ist das Bach?’ (Is this Bach?)

‘Nein, das ist Mozart!’ (No, this is Mozart!)

Why did listeners write this in response to a piece by Bach? Is it a satirical remark or just a random joke? I scrolled down further and found that the answer lies in a gruesome film scene …

In Steven Spielberg's film Schindler’s List (1990), one of the Nazi SS soldiers plays the prelude to this Suite on the piano in a flat in the Krakow ghetto, amid a liquidation of the Jewish occupants inside (see the bombarding machine gunfire light outside the piano room). This is the conversation between the soldiers as they listen to the prelude. Music lovers may sense the dark humour here, and will chuckle loudly to make sure others in the cinema know they understand. But the main point of the scene, of course, is not about the difference between Bach and Mozart. By contrasting high culture against brutality, Spielberg sarcastically shows that the well-learned SS, who can play classical music on the one hand and take someone else’s life cruelly on the other, are in fact demonic monsters to the core. This scene also poses a larger question of whether civilisation cultivates us as it claims, or does it reinforce barbarism?

Images: Google search

Thirty years after the film went on screen, it is now the right time to ask this question again, when due to failure in public health management by various local and international governmental bodies, citizens around the world are exposed to the lethal novel virus. Civilisation promises us social stability and prosperity, but the COVID 19, as many other natural and man-made hazards, has clearly revealed the fragility of the institution.

Not only have we lost faith in governments, but also in social connection in general. Most of us try to stay home as much as possible. We cancel our gatherings and are paranoid about meeting people. There has been a time when I felt frustrated about life coming to a desperate standstill, and about the inaction of the authorities in coping with this global crisis. That was when I realised that I should turn to the piano and play this Suite.

When we think of Bach, who we call ‘the father of music’, we mostly think of practice songs for enhancing the technique, or serious church music. The belief that music by Bach is mechanical is so deeply imprinted in our popular imagination that there is even a meme which depicts the hands playing Bach as a robot. The solemn, self-restrained, polyphonic, and at times even strangely chromatic and dissonant music all struck me as archaic and unable to arouse any passion in listeners.

Image: Reddit.com/user/NeokratosRed (remember to check out the funny explanations as well)

Strangely enough, it is exactly this tranquility that soothes my unrest. Playing Bach means slowing down and focusing on precisions. Put aside the ambition to strive for virtuosic splendour and concentrate and humbly strike on the keys. Among the crystal clear flowing notes, I free myself of grandiose sentimentalities which I often put in romantic pieces. All is healthy and fresh, like an eloquent and empathetic speech, as Bach knows when to elaborate with musical variations and when to create suspensions by altering tonal colours. In time, the gem of this piece manifests itself, both my floppy fingers and weary mind get rejuvenated. I imagine myself standing in a deserted church among the light of shining grandeur, and looking up with reverence at the ray pouring from a window.

Thanks to the coronavirus, Bach has entered my piano repertoire.

I texted my friend Tina He, scientist and avid piano player, and told her that I almost got moved to tears when playing a certain series of ascending phrases in this prelude, and she delightedly admitted having a similar experience when playing music. She said when she was about to reach her favourite phrases, she would get so excited that she would even stand up from the piano stool and walk around. As we chatted on, we tried to figure out what exactly this sudden and deep sensation is and why it happens. While I described such moments with visual imagery, she reasons that this happens in musical modulations and variations that are well-composed ...

Hold on. Poetics and theories aside, there should be more.

She went further on and concluded that there is a special relationship between the listener/player and the composer, which she defines as ‘a spiritual resonance with someone who understands you like a friend’.

This word ‘resonance’ rings a bell. Often I am under the impression that the sensation aroused by music is private, only to be felt individually. Part of this is true, since our preference for music and even our feelings towards the same piece may differ immensely, but part of the joy in music also lies in its universality. Whatever form it takes, it moves us and joins us together. To enjoy music is not so much about how well we perform or understand the music as how ready we are to share this joy with others. To reach out and communicate with others about how much a piece of music touches us suffices to spread the beauty of music and the pleasure it brings.

‘They (the composers) will be very pleased :P’ Tina added playfully.

A month ago, I came across a video clip of Italian people playing music and singing together at their window during the forced isolation. Standing on their balconies, some carry brass instruments and accordions, others with pans and pots, staging a flash-mop impromptu choir performance of the national anthem and opera arias. In the difficult time when human connection gives way to social distancing — face masks, hand sanitisers, and quarantine, fortunately we still have music, and the ability to share it.

Image: 'The Pandemic is Remaking What Performance Can Be', by Dan Chiasson on New Yorker

The year 2020 marks another break of trust in the institution and the top-down, but let it not stop us from making noise. May creativity sustain the faith in human connection in us.