A while ago I watched the Netflix documentary "The Only Girl in the Orchestra" following Orin O'Brien, the first woman ever to join the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. 80% of its background music comprised Beethoven's 7th symphony, the second movement (Allegretto). The rest was some Bartok.
Since then it's been stuck in my head.
Even if you aren't into classical music, you'll recognize this Beethoven, alongside the famous fifth's first movement, which goes Da-Da-Da-Dum - see, you know it. 😼 You might just not know that it was Beethoven giving the soundtrack for apocalypse.
A pop culture classic
When used in pop culture, it tends to be the backdrop of societal collapse.
Just a selection of movies and series that picked it for scenes where things fall apart:
The King's Speech
Westworld s2e7
X-Men: Apocalypse
Knowing
Mr Robot s1e2
The Blacklist s1e6
I could go on for a long time. But to save space, I'll refer you to the Wikipedia page.
With this piece of music's impact 200 years after its first performance, it's no wonder countless scientists have tried digging into what makes this work stick.
Some even conducted experiments to figure out the Symphony's impact on breathing (- on that topic, the only breathing advice I can give is to breathe through the nose as much as possible).
I'm not one to excel at analytics. I'm a romantic at heart, who believes that not everything can and should be captured in data.
That said, I do believe that knowing more about a masterwork like this heightens the enjoyment we can derive from it.
If you don't buy this idea from me - a random stranger on the internet - take it from Russel Bertrand, who applied it to his eating apricots.
“I have enjoyed peaches and apricots more since I have known that they were first cultivated in China in the early days of the Han dynasty; that Chinese hostages held by the great King Kaniska introduced them to India, when they spread to Persia, reaching the Roman Empire in the first century of our era; that the word ‘apricot’ is derived from the same Latin root as the word ‘precocious’ because the apricot ripens early; and the A at the beginning was added by mistake, owing to a false etymology. All this makes the fruit taste much sweeter."
- Bertrand Russel (In praise of Idleness)
Or take it from Kyle Chayka, who, toward the end of his book Filterworld, concludes that it's not just the algorithms impacting culture; it's also a question of what we make with the information we encounter through it.
You can simply scroll on after hearing a piece like that in the background of a documentary you watched. Or you decide to explore its history. Go deep instead of shallow.
What's the point? - the utility and productivity-maxis might ask.
Honestly, who cares? Not everything needs to have a point. Remember, as kids, we played for its sake - we indulged in our curiosity not because we tried to outsmart everyone but simply because it was the most natural thing.
Maybe we also realized it was a great way to annoy adults, asking why multiple times.
In the same spirit, I learned more about Beethoven and his 7th Symphony.
Big man with big personality
Beethoven was an early rock star, an entrepreneur, and what Ralph Waldo Emerson would call a self-reliant person.
Unlike many of his contemporaries and the big names that came before him (Bach, Mozart, Haydn) - he was employed neither by nobility nor the church.
Instead, he was a freelance artist, negotiating the price for his works directly with publishing houses.
He didn't come from nobility - even though his name might sound like it had some blue blood. His father, a music teacher, was an aggressive tyrant - who taught his son the basics of music and to fear his violent outbursts.
A stubborn guy with confidence in his art, he quickly stopped going to Haydn for lessons as they did not see eye to eye on how music should be - following the current conventions vs. breaking with them.
Nowadays, he's probably best known as the composer who went deaf and still wrote bangers (his 9th is the anthem of the European Union).
As a believer in the principles of Enlightenment, his relationship with aristocrats was complicated. He needed their good grace to make a living and dedicated countless of his works to them; at the same time, he didn't want to kiss up to them.
"Prince, what you are, you are through chance and birth. What I am, I am through my own labor. There are many princes and there will continue to be thousands more, but there is only one Beethoven."
L.v.Beethoven
If that sounds like someone with a big personality, he was.
Goethe, who encountered him, wrote: "His talent astonished me, but unfortunately, his personality is completely unrestrained."
This could lead the untrained observer to assume he was arrogant and very sure of himself. But he did have a sensitive side and a sense of never quite reaching the heights he'd aspired to artistically. In a letter to a 12-year-old fan of his named Emile, he admits that:
"The true artist is not proud, he unfortunately sees that art has no limits, he feels darkly how far he is from the goal, and thouhg he may be admired by others he is sad to not have reached that point to which his better genius only appears as a distant guiding sun."
L.v.Beethoven
Now, back to the title of this post.
Symphony No. 7
Beethoven started as an avid Napoleon fan, but by the time of his seventh symphony, he had become thoroughly disillusioned with the Enlightenment figure. Created as the emperor prepared his Russia campaign, this symphony might yet be another musical confrontation with the ray of hope that so quickly turned into a tyrant.
The third was a celebration of Napoleon, quickly renamed when it became clear he didn't take equality all that seriously - this one is then a celebration of liberation from Napoleon's domination.
On December 8th, 1813, Beethoven himself conducted the premiere of it during a charity concert for wounded soldiers. It was well received, and the second movement inspired so much delight it was encored immediately.
Most of the music critics of the time shared the audience's sentiment. Schumann compared Beethoven to a Volcano that'd erupt and spread magma across all the flowers, shaking everything - yet in the end all the flowers are still there.
That's an accurate metaphor for the symphony's beginning. It starts with exuberance, a vitality bordering ecstasy and seemingly appearing out of nowhere. A life force stronger than anything put in its way. A joy that spreads through the entire symphony - except the second movement.
That's why Wagner commented that the symphony was the "apotheosis of dance."
It's funny then that the one movement that sticks out would become the most famous one. For the people who listen to the symphony, it leaves a deep impression—going from an introduction that provides no hints at what's to come to be thrown into the limitless grief and despair - the unrelenting march of time painted by the ever-recurring rhythm.
It leaves us longing for more. Ending with an unresolved harmony. It creates suspense that doesn't fade.
When I listen to it, I feel like I know what's coming, I anticipate, and yet I never feel like I fully grasp it - so I go back to it over and over again.
Unlike with drugs, it seems possible to reach higher highs than at the first listen.
And that's probably a reason for its success.
A few critics think it's the best piece of the Western Canon.
I don't think so. I don't because I don't think there is "a best piece" in general.
There are just pieces that speak to us at different times in our lives.
Some are more commercially successful, others not.
Some will probably accompany us throughout our lives, offering the comfort of knowing that we're not the first, nor alone, in feeling a certain way.
Or maybe just give us a good dose of goosebumps, bring us to the edge of tears, trigger our deeply human side, and reassure us that we're not dead yet inside.
All that said, if you hear the Allegretto next time, check out some of the other movements of the symphony. You might be surprised. There's more triumph than tragedy.
Maybe there is lessons in there, maybe not.
And if you wonder whether the Allegretto can work for guitar, this duo shows that it does.
For more Allegretto goodness, check out Arash Safaian's Adagietto. It's petite but precious. His entire This is Not Beethoven album is a goldmine for Beethoven fans.
Thanks for reading 💚
