The 9 Greatest Climaxes in the World of Music

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“Since Mozart’s day composers have learned the art of making music throatily and palpitatingly sexual.”

– Huxley

Here’s my list of the nine greatest climaxes in Music. I’ve listed them in order of the more gentle and civilised towards the most brutal, animal, gut-curdling.

1. Mozart, Symphony 40, Movement 4

This is the most delicate yet effective ending ever. It summarises and the same time resolves the pain of the foregoing movements, making the heart melt into tears. Sweet Mozart! How much we love you!

2. Beethoven, Symphony 6, Movement 4

Symphony 6 has been described – I don’t remember by who – as defining the relationship between man and nature. The “redeeming” theme at the end completes that definition; it is parallel to what a man feels when in harmony with nature – while also serving as a climax to the Master-Composition.

3. Beethoven, Symphony 5, First Movement

Need we say anything about this? It evokes pity, sadness, will, courage, beauty, wonder, and misery – all at the same time.

4. Brahms, Piano Concerto 2, Movement 1

The finale takes us into a deep cave where God resides – into the sanctum sanctorum, as it were. We emerge from the cave not re-energised, but angered.

5. Beethoven, Symphony 9, Movement 1

The utter thumping theme of “I’ll be back” – not in the Schwarzenegger sense – is so powerful, the strongest of minds is overwhelmed.

6. Beethoven, Symphony 5, Movement 4

This is the greatest of the non-brutal endings, where fate and free-will come together such that the Man masters Life.

7. Brahms, Symphony 4, Movement 1

Chills to through the flesh to the bones. It is too powerful for many humans to digest. It is surreal, unreal, ethereal. It kills. It absolutely kills anything in its path. It kills whatever is not in its path, too. But Brahms is a liar, unlike Herr Mozart or Herr Beethoven.

8. Dvorak, Symphony 9, Movement 1

This is my favourite. It is too animal to speak of; the enemy is not only butchered, he is stamped upon, his bones broken and buried. And then the ground where this happened is extinguished by forces that join the original with the final: “Laßt dem Anfang mit dem Ende”!!

9. Der Herr Ludwig van Beethoven, die Appassionata, dritter Satz

…And finally the third movement of the Appassionata. The Spirit wakes from its sleep; it realises what has been going on during its deep Sleep. It rises, it resolves, it begins to fight, defeat, kill. It kills; it defeats. And it goes on as though nothing had happened; and then it re-realises the sheer insult of the Sleep; and it kills again. And to ensure that nothing that it has stamped upon the Ground re-emerges, it makes its statement to God that the Enemy has been defeated; and God extends it Powers to the Infinite – wherein the Enemy cannot bear the thought of re-emerging. It is not Victory, but God and the Will that reign. Nachdem der Totaler Krieg ist es vollgebracht.

Is Mozart god?

Ever coming back to Mozart after Months — or Years — of not listening to Music, I see: There is no Thing better in this Life than Mozart!

But is there no Thing better than Beethoven? Perhaps. If we ignore Beethoven, we might be spared the Terror, the Revelation of our Meaninglessness. We might be spared our Nonsense.

So is not so with Mozart. With infinite Heart, he speaks for us, with us; even in the Trio of the 25th symphony he speaks, leave alone the first Movement.

Beethoven said: “Music should strike Fire in the Heart of Man and bring Tears to the Eyes of Woman.” Perhaps Mozart the Beloved would say: “Music should make Humans happy.”

Alcohol, Faust, and The Devil

This is my Understanding from Faust. I am drunk, and hence the alcohol speaks. It speaks true. But — It is the Devil that speaks. (And I am not the Devil.) What Devil? Goethe’s Devil, not the Devil of the Bible. Who speaks? The Devil in Me. What is that? Goethe’s Devil, again. (I repeat myself, for a purpose.)

Remember Nietzsche? “Hell is eternal repetition”? This is what I have achieved in the preceding Paragraph. It is Hell.

Remember Goethe? “Only that which is fruitful is true”? That is true, and true again: I am attempting, while drunk, to drill some sense into mindless people. [This, they call the sheeple as of 2013.]

So what is my Point?

That is the Point. There is no Point, no Grundlage, for what I write here. Gentle Reader, does that make sense to you in 2013?

In the rare Event that it does not, I beg to remind you that no Thing makes Sense, and I, making no Sense, am “in sync” with the World. What did you do today?

Spent You Time on Facebook? What did you see? Faces? Did you care for those Faces? Or were you looking for your Self? Did you perform Activity there? You did so out of Vanity.

Spent Time on Google? Apart from useful Things, what did you do? You merely killed Time? Or?

Spent Time with your Smartphone? What did You achieve? You enjoyed the Time? You killed Time? What else did you do?

Took the Time out to entertain… took the Time out to…. took the Time out to… and then? How better are You than a Drinker of Ethyl Alcohol, such as I am?

I am better than you. Why? Because I am writing This, and You are reading This. That is why I am better than You.

Every Paragraph I write begins with an “I”, and hence I began this one without. Even though I am drunk.

That is my Strength: to ken what is strong.

It seems too simple, and all this is too complex for the Modern World, where the Word is degraded, where Music is called Rap.

My Friend John F Penner, where art thou? Are you still Writing?

And may this be the Lesson to All: Drink, and You will be Pointless — in other Words, without Point. But That is the Point.

Drink and be merry!

No?

The story of Faust tells it All. When drunk, we are at Auerbach’s Kelller. When in Love, we are in Marthen’s Garten. When in Sin, we are in Gretchen’s Stube. When in deep Trouble, we are in Kerker. When upheld, the Archangel Ariel tends to us. When uplifted, we are in the Emperor’s Court. When dreaming within the upheld Court, we are in Greece, among the Griffons and the Sirens. When back on Earth, we are with the Devil.

We each have our personal Devils, but Goethe painted the Archetypal Devil: Mephistopheles.

We are with the Devil, and He thinks we are done for. And so he digs our Grave. (Englishcer-Deutscher mixup: Graben im Deutschen ist same gleich als the Grabe. And “die” ist “die” as in “die Grabe”.) And then, blinded, we fall in, and We are dead. And Gretchen —  and then Mother Mary — comes: not as Saviour, but as reminder: The woman will make you go on.

You need no Saviour. You need a Woman. My Woman is Alcohol. Faust is the Story of Alcohol.

That is the stupidest Thing I have said. It is because I am drunk. Alcohol melds itself to every Story.

But does the Above not make sense? (Pun intended.)

I rest my case. (My cask.)