![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The fourth movement of Mozart's last symphony is one of the greatest achievements of the human mind, and has repeatedly been connected by commentators and critics to God Himself. Indeed, the very name of the symphony - Jupiter - is a barely veiled suggestion that it has something to do with the God of Gods. And this name - like many of the most enduring names for musical works - has not been given to it by its creator, but by the consensus of generations of music lovers: nobody finds it absurd or exaggerated that less than forty minutes of music played by a smallish orchestra of up to thirty players should reflect the idea of the Supreme Being.
Someone calling himself Ernest Alba posted this superb explanation why in Youtube. What makes Mozart's Jupiter symphony worthy to share the name of the most powerful god of the Roman world?
The answer to this question comes in the Molto Allegro, and more specifically in its coda, (8:09-8:36). In the coda, Mozart takes the five musical themes or melodies that had been developed throughout the final movement, and does something that no one has ever achieved to the extent that he did, not even the illustrious Beethoven.
What Mozart does is take these five themes and combines them to create a fugato in five-part counterpoint. That is, he takes the five melodies and simultaneously plays them in a variety of combinations and permutations. Imagine five separate melodies, all with their own notes, being played simultaneously, but each constantly changing. It's impossible for the human ear to focus on the enormous amount of notes that this simultaneous playing and constant changing entails. The effect is that the music seems to encompass an infinite amount of sound. With lesser two or three-part fugues, it is occasionally possible to sense everything that is going on. Once you get to four voices, it's nearly impossible to detect all of the nuances of the melodies. With five, well, only God could completely grasp its profundity.
I will add this; that while no human being, perhaps, can hear everything that goes on in this unbelievable piece of music, noneteheless the impact of it on the most uneducated ear is simple and wonderful. It is exultant, triumphant music - you could dance to it, or shout for joy. And now that you and I have an idea of what it contains, we also know why. It is the music of someone who is doing the impossible, and making it look easy; setting a standard that he knows - as any musician would have known - will never be surpassed, and at the same time doing it so that the most musicless bumpkin can enjoy it.
Mozart's last three symphonies are commonly quoted as one of the most miraculous instances of creativity in all the arts. The man wrote them all - and the other two are not very inferior to the Jupiter - in six weeks, at a time when he seemed to have struck rock bottom, desperately in debt and unable to pay for his young and growing family. But I think that it is just because no human hope seemed discernible at the time, that this enormous burst of energy came forth. It was his own life, the spark of God in him, rising pure white and demanding to be seen and contemplated for what it was: his own self, demanding that he should remember who he was and what he was capable of. With less provocation, it might have taken longer to arise.
Someone calling himself Ernest Alba posted this superb explanation why in Youtube. What makes Mozart's Jupiter symphony worthy to share the name of the most powerful god of the Roman world?
The answer to this question comes in the Molto Allegro, and more specifically in its coda, (8:09-8:36). In the coda, Mozart takes the five musical themes or melodies that had been developed throughout the final movement, and does something that no one has ever achieved to the extent that he did, not even the illustrious Beethoven.
What Mozart does is take these five themes and combines them to create a fugato in five-part counterpoint. That is, he takes the five melodies and simultaneously plays them in a variety of combinations and permutations. Imagine five separate melodies, all with their own notes, being played simultaneously, but each constantly changing. It's impossible for the human ear to focus on the enormous amount of notes that this simultaneous playing and constant changing entails. The effect is that the music seems to encompass an infinite amount of sound. With lesser two or three-part fugues, it is occasionally possible to sense everything that is going on. Once you get to four voices, it's nearly impossible to detect all of the nuances of the melodies. With five, well, only God could completely grasp its profundity.
I will add this; that while no human being, perhaps, can hear everything that goes on in this unbelievable piece of music, noneteheless the impact of it on the most uneducated ear is simple and wonderful. It is exultant, triumphant music - you could dance to it, or shout for joy. And now that you and I have an idea of what it contains, we also know why. It is the music of someone who is doing the impossible, and making it look easy; setting a standard that he knows - as any musician would have known - will never be surpassed, and at the same time doing it so that the most musicless bumpkin can enjoy it.
Mozart's last three symphonies are commonly quoted as one of the most miraculous instances of creativity in all the arts. The man wrote them all - and the other two are not very inferior to the Jupiter - in six weeks, at a time when he seemed to have struck rock bottom, desperately in debt and unable to pay for his young and growing family. But I think that it is just because no human hope seemed discernible at the time, that this enormous burst of energy came forth. It was his own life, the spark of God in him, rising pure white and demanding to be seen and contemplated for what it was: his own self, demanding that he should remember who he was and what he was capable of. With less provocation, it might have taken longer to arise.