Tag Archives: wagner

Selective Pious

Art and artist. Two separate entities that are, to many, often inseparable. Can you, in fact, separate the two and appreciate the art as wholly divorced from the artist? For some (like me) it’s easy: YES. For others, not so much. It’s the latter group that can give me pause.

Before going further, I acknowledge that this can-of-worms topic is nothing that can be tackled in a single blog post, but its surface is worthy of scratching nonetheless.

To quickly take an extreme example from recent headlines, consider Bill Cosby. He’s a comedic legend who’s been adored and respected by millions for decades. It turns out, however, that the lovable Dr. Huxtable was portrayed by a man who is (and has long been) allegedly nothing short of a sexually predacious monster. With dozens of accusers taking to the media, there’s the primary concern of the law and whether any (or how many) trials will take place. A secondary concern, however, particularly among practitioners and fans of stand-up comedy, has been the extent to which Cosby’s artistic output has been affected by such allegations. (There’s one specific Spanish Fly bit that really brings the conundrum into sharp relief.) If the allegations are true, then can any part of his catalogue be enjoyed by someone who knows “the real Cosby”? Or should it all be thrown out? (For an interesting take on this, see Greg Fitzsimmons’s shameless plundering of Cosby’s material to save the jokes and personally discredit him.) Also, as for Cosby specifically, it’s notable that he’s still alive and working (or at least trying to). I do think there’s a difference between boycotting concerts to make a financial statement/protest and wholly discounting decades of written and recorded material as if they never existed. I should also mention that, while I like some of Cosby’s comedy, I’m not the biggest fan of his work, so I’m not writing as a champion of his output.

But back to the original point without getting lost further down the Cosby rabbit hole: I believe an artist can be separated from his or her art. (I do admit to having some occasional odd biases, but I’m always trying to police myself.) Of course, I kind of have to. For one, I’m a Wagnerian. Additionally, I’m a deep Miles Davis fan. (More on that later.) Beyond them, I know that many of the artists whose music, etc. I — and many of you — connect with are flawed at best and, for some, downright repellent at worst.

Take the aforementioned Wagner, arguably one of the easiest targets as far as this is concerned. As often happens, in the last several months I’ve had a couple of folks rebut my discussing his music with the standard response that’s a variation of, “Well, he was an anti-Semite.” Yes. No argument here. (However, I highly recommend Think Classical for detailed discussion and dismantling of much of the anti-Semitic lore.) Though, it’s also true that he died a mere half-century before Adolf Hitler was made German Chancellor. While Cosima Wagner, his young widow (and by many accounts a more virulent anti-Semite than he), along with their children, took it upon themselves to pal around with members of the Third Reich, this happened decades after his death. That his music was held up by Nazi party officialdom isn’t itself necessarily a comment on Richard’s own views in the mid-to-late nineteenth century. And, yes, although the composer’s great-granddaughter (and current Bayreuth intendant) Katharina Wagner has said that her ancestor’s anti-Semitism is likely present in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, the same can hardly be attributed to the whole ouvre (though many try). Does Siegfried Idyll *sound* bigoted to you?

[Through this, Wagner also takes the heat for other musicians who lived, comfortably or even at all, under the Third Reich yet don’t receive such admonishment.]

I’m of course not saying that everyone has to dismiss an artist’s sins and adore their artwork. Obviously, in the case of Wagner, someone closely related to Jewish heritage or the Holocaust may detest Wagner’s music on principle. That’s completely understandable. What I don’t understand, however, is the social justice warrior mentality – particularly of those far removed from a given circumstance or cause – of tearing down an artist’s output because of such faults as a way to punish them and right past wrongs. And the reason for my misunderstanding boils down to this: where’s the line? I would think that combating racism (or sexism, etc.) itself would be more important than quibbling over (mostly neutral) works of art by creators who may have been racist or sexist.

Such a mentality when put into action often leads to censorship. I think back to 2003 and the Dixie Chicks. Natalie Maines derided President Bush and the Iraq War run-up when performing overseas, and the group quickly became the target of a shocking campaign to silence their music and (hopefully, for the critics) their voices. I’m no Dixie Chicks scholar, but I believe much of their music before this incident was apoltical, meaning that the boycotting and censoring of their work was purely a reaction to their personal actions.

I’m sure that, on principle, many of the aforementioned SJWs sympathized with the Chicks, and that’s certainly understandable. But now let’s replace Dixie Chicks with Richard Wagner or Chuck Berry or Paula Poundstone or R. Kelly. The list goes on and on.

Such dismissals are a cousin of the trigger warning: don’t listen to/read/watch _____ because it’s by a _____ist; in doing so, you’re supporting _______ism.

This is a tricky topic, as I can easily be perceived as being either a defender of horrible behavior or a regressive reactionary. Neither are remotely true. It comes down to a question of whether a piece of music, a book, or a film automatically reflects the worldview and/or behavior of the creator. It surely can happen, but it’s not always the case.

Implying an automatic relation has the effect of making a piece, effectively, “morally programmatic.” As I always tell my students, you can easily make any piece programmatic (i.e., about something) with even the vaguest reference. Simply replace Concerto No. 3 in Eb with Twilight and the job is done. Even with no further discussion, the listener is now implicitly encouraged to hear the piece in relation to “twilight.” Similarly, by relating the work to the composer’s misdeeds, one is implying (Racist) Concerto No. 3 in Eb when the work could be heard as anything but. Is Appalachian Spring promoting homosexuality (or sexuality of any kind), considering the composer’s personal life? (If you find that question ridiculous, then I’ve made my point.) And does this Euro-centric and racist clip by Leonard Bernstein negate his life’s work or merely just complicate his person?:

It’s curious that explicitly racist songs, such as those by Stephen Foster, have managed to remain ubiquitous through considerable sterilizing revisions, whereas non-______ist works by others are shunned simply for associative reasons.

There is, of course, a peculiar inverse of this phenomenon: people liking an artist’s output because of their personal statements or deeds. This is why I largely avoid “message music” (e.g., political and religious music), as the music becomes secondary to the message. It’s a delicate balance that’s difficult to pull off. For me, Rage Against the Machine is one of the few to do this consistently so well. Just ask House Speaker Paul Ryan, a professed fan whose beliefs and policies are diametrically opposed to the band’s message.

I’ll regularly (but not always, depending on the situation) give a quick substantive defense of liking Wagner’s music when confronted with the anti-Semitism proclamation. Sometimes I’ll counter with the following, particularly if I already know the answer: do you like Miles Davis? The Prince of Darkness recorded music adored by millions, and in particular his collaboration with Gil Evans found its way into the mainstream. And though tales of Davis’s narcissism and drug abuse are legion — arguably common characteristics for many high-achieving musicians of the time — perhaps less known are the accounts of his wife-beating, not to mention his general misogyny. To hear Frances Davis, Miles’s first wife and the namesake of “Fran Dance,” discuss it in The Miles Davis Story is chilling. (You can also read discussion of it here.) What’s more, Miles was a trained boxer — not a prizefighter, but his study and practice are well documented. So while domestic abuse is horrible enough, his was that much more lethal considering his strength and training.

Now, if you’re reading this and 1) you like Miles’s music and 2) this is news to you, are you now going to discard all of your Miles recordings and boycott his music going forward? The more likely outcome is that you’ll perhaps give some thought to 1) how horrible he was for that and 2) the cognitive dissonance between your admiration for his music and disgust with his person. And that’s a perfectly natural reaction. And, what’s more, you’ll likely continue to listen to your favorite Davis recordings. (I’m curious to see how the upcoming biopic addresses this, if at all.)

Another reason this has been on my mind more than usual lately is because of River of Fundament. I wrote that many of the reviews have been, to put it kindly, sub-par (i.e., lazy and uninformed). A common thread in a number of the reviews is the charge of misogyny in the work. This review, for example, refers to the work’s sexism without actually providing a supporting example. Similar to others, it relies upon a general notion that, because Barney’s works are generally masculine, they are therefore misogynist, and therefore River of Fundament is no different. A sensational argument, but not a substantive one. (In all transparency, I’ve not seen all of The Cremaster Cycle, so I can’t speak to that work with any authority. As I wrote here, my only real Barney reference is River itself.) In fact, one could easily argue that the female characters in River are held in higher regard than the male ones. (Another topic for another day.)

Of course, Barney aside, there’s the whole discussion of what makes a work “masculine” or “feminine” in the first place. And couldn’t the argument be made that such coded descriptors perpetuate said paradigm? If a woman makes an aggressive work and a man a gentle one, are the works therefore masculine and feminine, respectively? Or only when they align? (And when they align, is it automatically problematic?)

Furthermore, River is (more than) loosely based on Ancient Evenings, whose author, Norman Mailer, is associated with misogyny like Wagner is associated with anti-Semitism. Like Barney, my experience with Mailer is limited to River of Fundament and Ancient Evenings (which I’m currently reading). Now, from the little I’ve read about Mailer’s life and the video interviews I’ve watched, misogynist seems an apt description. (As an example, of his half-dozen wives, he stabbed one.) That being said, I have yet to really interpret Evenings itself as being misogynist. But to many the combination of Barney and Mailer apparently is the artistic equivalent of a local chapter meeting of NO MA’AM.

Back to the the beginning: where is the line? Anti-Semitism is bad. (Duh.) Misogyny is bad. (Duh.) (Well, except when it’s associated with the gentle styling of a muted trumpet, that is…) What other qualities are non-starters? Charlie Parker was a drug addict who stole from his bandmates and, though an artistic asset, was often a personal liability to his friends and associates. (It’s striking that one of his proteges was a young Miles Davis.) What qualities cross said line? And do those qualities negate the artwork? Carlo Gesualdo was a forward-thinking composer in the sixteenth century whose idiosyncratic harmonic approach wouldn’t really be seen nor heard again for centuries. He also committed a double homicide (and kept on composing). Does “It Don’t Mean A Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)?” perpetuate misogyny? Its composer, Duke Ellington, was a rampant womanizer. Can it not be true that Ellington was both a cad and also arguably the greatest American composer?

Forgetting art altogether, what about that band of racist and misogynist eighteenth-century philosophers and politicians that so many Americans revere? Oh, sorry, I meant the Founding Fathers. What about them?

It’s easy — and tempting — to throw the baby out with the bathwater in such scenarios. But art, like its creators, is complicated. Virtue isn’t a prerequisite for creating good, meaningful work. Similarly, a good piece of art can be appreciated in spite of the artist’s shortcomings without being seen as a tool to negate or celebrate them.

Wagner & Seinfeld: Die Meistersinger von Monk’s

Things have been silent on the blog front since the recent Wagner festivities. One reason, honestly, was due to somewhat of a Wagner haze I found myself in for about a week after the birthday. Silly but true. One thought I’ve returned to over the last couple weeks is an odd parallel between Seinfeld (my all-time favorite show) and Wagner (my favorite composer), specifically Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. It’s perhaps not poignant, but I think it’s worthwhile to share and hash out a bit. If nothing else, it can be my own little twist on the bicentennial celebrations. After all, there’s nothing like juxtaposing the composer often considered “too German” with the show that was originally considered “too Jewish”…

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[Photo: Kramer attempts to hock some opera tickets outside of Pagliacci in the Seinfeld episode “The Opera.”]

I’ll be walking a bit of a tightrope here, as I don’t want to be either overly general or too deep in the weeds on both topics. Now for some context:

Wagner:
As Gioachino Rossini noted, “Wagner has lovely moments but awful quarters of an hour.” While I don’t agree with the latter sentiment, I understand the criticism. Here at the home front, my love of Wagner’s music isn’t fully shared by my wife. As she enjoys telling me, she thinks his music is beautiful and she enjoys playing it (as he wrote interesting viola parts), but she doesn’t have the patience to sit through a full work. Most of Wagner’s most memorable moments fall into one of two categories:
1. Leitmotif – melody, harmony, rhythm, or combination thereof
2. Lengthy scene or other extended period of action featuring an “endless melody”

It’s worth pointing out because, as you may have noticed, I didn’t mention either of opera’s most noteworthy terms: aria (song) and recitative (musical speech). As a genre, many of opera’s memorable moments are arias or recitatives. Wagner, however, melds the two devices. His hyper-focus on drama kept him from featuring popular musical devices that often stalled the plot and/or dramatic development. Because of this, rarely does one hear an all-out “song” in his works.

Seinfeld:
Yes, Seinfeld is often considered the greatest sitcom of all time by many outlets and publications. I happen to think it’s the greatest show regardless of genre, but that’s just me. I grew up with Seinfeld. I’ve been watching it regularly since before I was ten years old. My mom watched it on its original run I watched right alongside her. And that continued through daily syndication viewings and eventually on DVD whenever I wanted (which was and is often). I laughed as a kid on one level throughout the original airings, and two decades later I’m still laughing just as hard but now at its many subtle layers and nuances. Despite the series’s respect and loyal following, reactions to the series finale were mixed at best. (Many considered it to be an epic disappointment.) Since Seinfeld ended its run in 1998, fans (myself included) had been clamoring for some sort of reunion. Not only did we want a reunion because we loved the show and its characters, but many people wanted a proper resolution to make up for the original finale.

After Seinfeld, the show’s co-creator, Larry David, then created and starred in HBO’s Curb Your Enthusiasm, in which he portrays a fictional version of himself living and occasionally working in LA after Seinfeld. Long story short, it’s a darker, no-holds-barred version of Seinfeld on steroids that quickly became and remains another favorite show of mine. Because of the self-referential nature of Curb, fans were occasionally treated with cameos by the Seinfeld cast in the first six seasons. (Jerry’s brief appearance, his first, in season four’s finale is perfect – he doesn’t even speak.) All the while, in the real world, Larry, Jerry, Julia, Jason, and Michael ruled out a Seinfeld reunion.

Now, what do the above scenarios have to do with one another? If Wagner wrote more full-blown arias, he’d probably have more mainstream appeal nowadays. And if Seinfeld would’ve done a traditional reunion, mainstream America would’ve had more resolution. Alas, both Wagner and Seinfeld delivered, albeit on their own terms and after a very long wait. Hence the parallel.

Wagner, severe dramatist and denier of arias, composed Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, a comedy that revolves around a songwriting guild and a singing contest. It’s also quite lengthy, lasting approximately 5.5 hours including two intermissions. And despite the plot’s emphasis on songs, the listener isn’t treated to a complete, uninterrupted song throughout. Numerous songs are sung, but they are in segments or interrupted if more complete. For instance, all three acts feature passages about songwriting, and therefore examples of good songwriting (from one character to another). But the songs aren’t performed in full. Instead, a verse or after-verse is heard out of context, or a more complete song is sung but is interrupted by another character (e.g., Beckmesser’s chalk, Sachs’s tools, or the vocal reactions of the “audience” on stage). Both kinds of scenarios occur in all three acts. In fact, at the end of Act III, right before Sachs’s closing monologue, Walther sings his prize song (“Morgenlich leuchtend…”) at the competition. Leading up to this point in the opera, the listener has been treated to bits and pieces but one thinks that he/she will finally hear the song in its entirety. Instead, Wagner makes you earn the aria on his terms: he intersperses the contest’s audience’s commentary throughout the song, breaking up Walther’s momentum. And when the aria finishes, the music escalates with the crowd’s reaction, leading to Eva’s response. Here is Johan Botha as Walther in the Vienna Opera’s 2008 production:

So, five hours into an opera about a song contest, the audience is denied a traditional, uninterrupted, full-blown aria. Instead, you get a beautiful song, broken up and delivered on the composer’s terms.

Similarly, Seinfeld indeed had a reunion episode in 2009. Eleven years after the series finale, it was conducted in a truly Seinfeldian manner. Instead of a doing a one-off special, as is the norm with television reunions, the plot of Curb Your Enthusiasm‘s seventh season was Larry David’s convening the Seinfeld cast and crew for a reunion in a ploy to win back his estranged wife. (And the fictionalized versions of the actors occasionally mock Larry for the original series finale, which he wrote.) And what happens throughout the season’s ten episodes is truly magical for Seinfeld fans. We see a (fictional) Larry and Jerry developing and writing a reunion episode for NBC, with the original cast once again taking up their signature characters. It’s not just the main cast that’s included, but also featured are writers, crew, and minor characters such as Wayne Knight‘s Newman, Estelle Harris‘s Estelle Costanza, and Steve Hytner‘s Kenny Bania. And over the course of the season’s final two episodes, the viewer actually gets to see almost all of the “reunion episode.” Between the (fictional) table read, dress rehearsals, Jerry’s whiteboard with bullet points hanging in his office, and select scenes edited with music and a laugh track, one eventually sees much of the plot, jokes, and acting. The lines between reality and fiction constantly blur, as some scenarios in the fictional reunion episode are based on events from Curb‘s first six seasons, just as Seinfeld was based on Jerry and Larry’s real-life experiences as comics in New York. After a while, you don’t know if you’re watching the fictional Seinfeld reunion on Curb Your Enthusiasm, or an actual Seinfeld reunion for the viewer at home. Genius. But of course this reunion is broken up, as you’re still watching full episodes of Curb. Once again, you’re on the artist’s terms. Here’s a little taste (it doesn’t include all of the reunion scenes, FYI):

[Embedding has been disabled for this video but it can be viewed here.]

But what would the reaction have been for either of these scenarios taking the traditional route? Let’s face it: five hours into Meistersinger, it’d probably be jarring to sit and listen to an aria dropped into the middle of a final scene. It wouldn’t make Wagnerian sense, and the dramatic flow would be thrown off, especially since Sachs’s closing monologue is right around the corner. Similarly, could you imagine Seinfeld just appearing on NBC on a random Thursday night at 9:00 PM for thirty or sixty minutes? I sure couldn’t. That would betray the spirit of the series. Why would a plotless sitcom whose characters didn’t emotionally develop come back for an out-of-the-blue, traditional reunion special? That’d be like a drama-centric composer who doesn’t write arias featuring one in an opera about songwriting. It’s just too easy. And Wagner and Seinfeld are anything but.

I doubt Larry David was thinking of Meistersinger when he developed his idea for the reunion. But the similarity, for me at least, is quite compelling.

It’s only fitting that I end with this recently-featured clip, in which Larry David and Wagner (including Meistersinger) come to terms with one another:

And if you’re really curious, here’s Ben Heppner singing an “uninterrupted” arrangement of Walther’s prize song:

Previous Wagner-centric posts here, here, here, and here.

Wagner

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(Photo: Wagner’s grave at Wahnfried, taken by myself)

Today is Wilhelm Richard Wagner‘s 200th birthday. The real world and cyberspace are rife with celebrations today and throughout all of 2013. Although, as Dr. Mark Berry correctly noted, “every year is a Wagner year.” This blog is but a drop in the digital ocean of related tributes, and therefore I’m going to be realistic. First, I won’t be breaking any new Wagnerian ground here. Second, there’s no point in writing what others will and have had covered already. But I would like to share something, and so I’d like to jot down a few thoughts about my relationship with my favorite classical composer.

Before going any further, I’d like to suggest a few timely and noteworthy posts and articles (published before today):
Nicholas Spice‘s “Is Wagner bad for us?” from the London Review of Books
Alex Ross‘s “A Wagner Birthday Roast” from The New Yorker
Mark Berry‘s “On entering the week of Wagner’s 200th anniversary” from Boulezian
Alex Ross’s “A Walking Tour of Wagner’s New York” from The New Yorker
Alex Ross’s “Wagner everywhere but New York” from The Rest is Just Noise blog

Being a saxophonist, I ostensibly have little to do with Wagner outside of my instrument’s namesake. (Adolphe Sax was whom Wagner turned to for the development of his Wagner tuba.) That, and Wagner’s use of the saxophone to fill out the needed twelve French horn parts for Tannhäuser‘s Paris premiere, cover most of his saxophonic bases. (Further proof that what you need a ringer, hire a saxophonist!) So what’s my deal?

Honestly, aside from a few random facts and musical excerpts, I knew very little about Wagner until covering him in my music history survey in college. I spent a number of years in my teens voraciously learning about the Holocaust and Nazi Germany, and so I was also aware of some sort of Hitlerian connection, but the specifics were lost on me until later. So I was a relative novice my class’s Romantic unit. I must say that I was instantly fascinated and even a bit overwhelmed. Some reactions, as I can somewhat remember them:
1. I was instantly moved by the music. If I remember correctly, we watched both the end of Die Walküre (I still have my worksheet) and a portion of Act III (?) of Tristan und Isolde (it’s been a while since that course…). And of course listened to the Tristan prelude. Two passages and works that I’m now all too familiar with but that were completely new to me at the time.
2. The theoretical concepts – leitmotif, gesamtkunstwerk, endless melody, etc. – scratched me where I itched. Saxophone literature is largely twentieth (and twenty-first) century or bust. Chronologically, Wagner’s music and musical approach and philosophy represented the first time we covered music in a similar vocabulary (i.e., late Romanticism, highly chromatic, etc.) as some of the solo literature I’d been learning.
3. DRAMA. Wagner’s focus on drama sucked me right in. That music should serve the drama – the actual end – is something with which I whole-heartedly agree (in many contexts still, but at the time it was absolute).

A few weeks after my aforementioned introduction, I checked a recording of Tristan und Isolde out from the music library, and the rest is history. From there I moved to Der Ring des Nibelungen – the Levine/Met recording of the whole cycle – and then Lohengrin, and beyond. I was hooked. A couple years later I completed an independent study for which I researched and wrote about exclusive similarities between Der Ring des Nibelungen and J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle Earth works, separate from both creators’ common mythological sources. (Tolkien, along with C.S. Lewis, was at one time quite the Wagnerite.) While at first blush it seems like an easy target, there’s much debate surrounding this topic. Sometime I’d actually like to revisit that paper/project for revision and expansion.

The following semester I saw the full Ring cycle live at the Chicago Lyric Opera featuring James Morris, Michelle DeYoung, Plácido Domingo, Jane Eaglen, and John Treleaven. From the rushing, flowing E-flat chord that opens Das Rheingold to Valhalla’s destruction at the end of Götterdämmerung, I was transfixed. And not just when I was in the theater, mind you. For example, I saw Joshua Redman with the SFJazz Collective on the night between Siegfried and Götterdämmerung, and remember only bits of that performance. My mind was with Wagner throughout. It was my first Ring, and surely not my last. There are so many aspects of that performance I could write about here, but suffice it to say I was profoundly moved. I will say that one of the many things that stood to me was Sir Andrew Davis‘s musicianship. He phrased throughout the whole cycle. For example, the loudest and biggest moments of the whole week were Siegfried’s “Trauermarsch” and Brünnhilde’s “Immolation Scene,” both in Götterdämmerung‘s Act III. He let the music unfold with the drama, and therefore the audience and production alike grew throughout the week.

At this point, there was (and has been) no turning back. In 2008, I had the good fortune of spending some time in Bayreuth while on vacation. Having not been on the infamous years-long wait list, I didn’t attend that afternoon’s Tristan. But simply touring the grounds of the Festspielhaus and spending considerable time at Wahnfried was all I needed (and hoped for) for that trip. (And I ended up seeing Tristan that following fall in Chicago. Another moving performance.) Hopefully I’ll get a chance to return this summer while teaching abroad.

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(Photo: Yours truly at Bayreuth, 2008)

Yadda, yadda, yadda. I could go on and on, but it’s best to find a point.

So those are some things I’ve done. But what does that have to do with today’s bicentennial? The day I returned to school after seeing the Ring, I met with my saxophone professor, John Nichol, to talk about my trip. I jokingly told him that by the end of Götterdämmerung I felt like I had accomplished something just by sitting through it. After a good chuckle, he asked, “But did Wagner accomplish something?” I told him that he did. And I really meant it. Much like Beethoven with the symphony, Wagner composed a relatively “small” number of operas (13, with only 10 being performed regularly). But most of those compositions seemed to dramatically shift the music world in its own way. Most of the operas are artistic behemoths, requiring significant work on behalf of both performer and observer. Unlike Beethoven, however, he wrote very little outside of his operas. (Various orchestral works, songs, and piano work exist but are rarely performed, with Siegfried Idyll being arguably the most well known. I recommend The Other Wagner as a nice, comprehensive starting point.) He also wrote a lot of prose, and his ideas were/are just as game-changing as his music (and not all for the better).

200 years on, Wagner’s legacy continues to cast a shadow over so much in the art world, extending far beyond opera, and in ways that most people perhaps don’t notice. For instance, film music – from the early talkies to present – owes much to his lush musical style and leitmotif-laden compositional approach. Just think: The Wizard of Oz would be a very different film if it weren’t for him (e.g., the overture’s lush orchestration and play-by-play of the various melodies/characters.) And, specifically, much later, how would Apocalypse Now have fared? And how many weddings use Lohengrin‘s “Bridal Chorus”? (That’s not without controversy, as most Wagnerian things aren’t.) And how many children have enjoyed this cartoon? And without Wagner there’d possibly be no castle for Cinderella. Hell, Wagner even gave us horns, spears, and breastplates. (And, occasionally, the all-too-familiar fat lady who sings.)

Yet, despite all of this and more, we Wagnerites must often defend our love of his art and publicly state that we’re not in fact members of the Nazi party. (I didn’t really address that issue in this post. That’s not the purpose here, and it’s much too broad and muddled of a topic, though I touch on it here.) A nice, humorous encapsulation of this, especially the latter point, can be found is “Trick or Treat” from Season 2 of Curb Your Enthusiasm. (Imagine my delight upon first seeing this, considering that Seinfeld – Curb‘s older brother – is my all-time favorite show.)  Here’s a slightly NSFW clip:
[NOTE: Larry David’s brief but hilariously clever quotation of “Springtime for Hitler” is especially entertaining when juxtaposed with the Meistersinger overture at the end, the latter having a main character named Walther – the clip’s antagonist – and being closely associated with German nationalism.]

Pros, cons, and everything in between, Wagner left a huge mark. As mentioned above, his legacy extends far beyond his own music. Price asks if Wagner is bad for us, to which I strongly answer NO. Speaking for myself, his music has left an indelible impression on me. Two of my favorite musical experiences have been because of him (seeing the Ring and Meistersinger), and he’s never far from my ears and mind. And that is why his 200th anniversary is worth noting for me. I’ll of course be enjoying some of my favorite recordings and may even go through some select scenes on DVD. Who knows, perhaps I’ll wear one of my t-shirts and play with my action figure…

For y’all, I recommend and leave you with one of my favorite clips from the great BBC documentary The Golden Ring (about Solti’s recording Götterdämmerung for his landmark cycle):

And so I say, in the manner of Cosima’s tweets: Happy Birthday, R.

(Recent blog posts on Wagner here and here.)