Apr 23, 2020
A Better Guide to Classical Music
The glazed-over look that’s always in people’s eyes when I try to talk about classical music with them breaks my heart. The world of classical music has a bad rap for being inaccessible, stuffy, boring, and dominated by white people, and all of that does a great job of preventing people outside that world from ever experiencing what it’s really about at its core: the music.
One of the biggest problems in trying to bridge the gap and get people interested in classical music are the recommendations. It can be daunting to jump into a new world without knowing much about it first, and classical music is no different. Or worse, if the recommendations aren’t any good, why would anyone bother jumping in to begin with?
Everyone knows Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Stravinsky’s Firebird, Beethoven’s Fur Elise, and the music one marches up (and back down) the wedding aisle to, and I worry those frankly boring and overplayed pieces are the face of classical music. When you look up articles about “Classical Music for Beginners,” they are often plagued with those same pieces; many of the authors of these articles also tend to include pieces that are interesting and beautiful to them personally, but that are difficult for novices to appreciate. With so many issues, it is no wonder classical music is struggling to stay afloat.
But I don’t want to see it struggle. I love classical music. I grew up playing in symphonies and have had the opportunity to experience some of the most profound, beautiful music in human history in a way most other people never will. I have listened to (and played) pieces that got my pulse racing with excitement. Pieces that made me tear up on stage because of how full of beautiful pure emotion they are. Pieces that left my jaw on the floor because of how amazing and fun their melodies, harmonies, and orchestration are.
I want to share some of these pieces with you here, in the hopes that it sparks something in you as well. These pieces are a pleasure for new listeners and veterans alike to listen to, and I’ve also compiled them into a playlist so you can listen along as you read each recommendation.
These Are a Few of My Favorite (Classical) Things
24 Preludes, Op. 28 — Frederic Chopin
They say art evokes emotion, and nowhere does this ring more true than with these preludes in pianist Martha Argerich’s capable hands. I can’t help but envision the French countryside during summertime whenever I listen to her play these, even though I’ve never been there. Some of the movements evoke a picturesque sunny day with a warm wind dancing through fields of long grass; while for others, it’s a tumultuous summer storm with dark rolling clouds. Even though these preludes are quite short (with many under one minute), their fleeting elusiveness makes them all the more beautiful and profound.
I recommend listening to all 24 preludes in one sublime sitting (run time is about 35 minutes).
Also Check Out: Polonaise №6 in A-flat Major — Frederic Chopin
Symphonie Fantastique, Op. 14 — Hector Berlioz
If you love stories about unrequited love (and opium-induced hallucinogenic dreams), then this is the symphonic poem for you. Symphonie Fantastique is exquisite and dreamlike. The piece’s protagonist falls in love with a girl at first sight then, convinced he’s been spurned, poisons himself with opium while despairing over his hopeless situation. He doesn’t consume enough to end his life, just to fall into a dream state full of fantastic opiatic visions, wherein he marches to the scaffold, and sees a witches sabbath (and a terrific use of the Dies Irae Gregorian chant).
This is loosely based on Berlioz’s own life (minus the opium). He fell in love with an actress the first time he saw her on stage, and became obsessed with pursuing her. She denied him for years until they finally met at a performance of this piece; soon after, they were wed.
Each movement is an interesting chapter in the overall story. That being said, I’ve always found the first three movements a little slow, so I’ll only recommend the fourth and fifth movements.
Also Check Out: La Danse Macabre — Camille Saint-Saens
Tzigane — Maurice Ravel
The fierce start of this piece — all played on the solo violinist’s lowest string — makes for an exotic-sounding landscape in its unusual structure. There’s an astounding four minutes of solo violin before we even encounter another instrument, in this case a harp and, in due time, the rest of the orchestra. The title (pronounced “zih-gone”) comes from a generic European word for gypsy, as it is reminiscent of that style of music. As a violinist, I have always loved this piece because of its stark beauty and technical difficulty; it immediately grabs my attention and pulls me into its wondrous landscape.
Also Check Out: Gaspard de la Nuit — Maurice Ravel, and Carmen Fantasies — Pablo de Sarasate
The Goldberg Variations, BWV 988 — J.S. Bach
Glenn Gould’s interpretation of Bach’s Goldberg Variations is the undisputed best within the classical world, and even listening to just the first two movements, it’s easy to see why. Gould processes Bach’s music on a seemingly atomic level and it just feels so…natural when he plays it. Bach’s ability to balance melody with harmony across voices and from chord to chord, paired with Gould’s talent for articulating each of them is like musical peanut butter and jelly. It just makes sense.
Dip your toes in the water by listening to the Aria, and the Var. 10 a 1 Clav. Fughetta, but if you’ve got the time, do not hesitate to listen to the entire album. It’s an honest to god treat.
Also Check Out: Six Sonatas and Partitas for Violin — J.S. Bach
Slavonic Dances Op. 46 — Antonin Dvorak
When I first heard these pieces in my first year of high school orchestra, it was love at first listen. The Slavonic Dances were, frankly, exotic sounding compared to all of the Bach and Star Wars medleys I’d been stuck playing in junior high. Dvorak introduced me to the charm of Eastern European melodies. The Slavonic Dances employ compositional techniques you don’t often hear, like switching back and forth between a major and minor sound.
Though Dvorak is Czech-born, he didn’t use any actual Slavic folk songs (rather he borrowed more from Bohemian tunes), he still managed to convey a distinct nationalistic spirit. The dances are animated, clever, and sometimes enigmatic, and I’ve always believed Dvorak’s knack for orchestration is what makes these pieces so distinct.
Also Check Out: Romanian Folk Dances — Bela Bartok
Piano Concerto №1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23 — Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky
This piece is classic Tchaikovsky — sweeping majestic lines and a bold finale. And while the piece itself is well known, it’s Van Cliburn’s rendition that really makes the piece noteworthy. The talented Texan pianist breathes life into this exhilarating piece. I watched one of my best friends in high school rehearse this piece for an audition to a prestigious music program, and it blew me away every time I heard her play it…until she had me listen to Van Cliburn’s version. Even she, ever so humbly, admitted he played it best.
The first movement is the most well-known and it is spectacular on its own, so it’s what I’ll recommend here, but the entire concerto is outstanding if you have the time for it.
Also Check Out: Variations on a Rococo Theme — Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky
Vespers, Op. 37 — Sergei Rachmaninoff
The stark Russian beauty of the Vespers is surreal. It makes you feel as though you have been teleported to a striking alien landscape. The piece’s ethereal siren-like beauty is stunning. It demands your attention and leaves you wondering if you’re worthy enough to be in its presence.
It feels like Rachmaninoff breathed a new life into liturgical-style pieces, which have their roots in central Europe. In my collegiate studies of music theory and history, I was quick to develop a fascination for liturgical works. I love the way they sound and how they paved the way for fundamental composition rules. I think these pieces hold a simple purity and, without delving into advanced composition practices, that is what allows their unique beauty to shine through.
Also Check Out: Other ecclesiastical pieces, like Gregorian plainchants, and Messiah — George Frideric Handel
Danse des Lutins — Henriette Renie
This is a stunning piece for harp — an instrument with a fascinating and underappreciated repertoire. This piece in particular is exciting not just because of its brutal tempo and key signature, but because it features over 300 pedal changes in three minutes. There are seven pedals on a concert harp (each corresponding with a note in the Western scale) and each can be moved up or down to make the note flat or sharp. Pulling off so many pedal changes while smoothly executing the piece’s mercurial melody is a true wonder.
Also Check Out: Chanson de la Nuit — Carlos Salzedo, and Harp Concerto in C Major — Francois-Adren Boieldieu
Symphony №6 in B minor, Op. 74 — Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky
This symphony is unlike Tchaikovsky’s others, which are famous for ending in lengthy fanfare. Instead, №6 quietly fades out. Rumors abound regarding the meaning of this particular symphony, the most popular of which suggests it was his suicide note, since he passed away mere days after its completion.
The symphony’s nickname, Pathetique, looks like the English word “pathetic” but a more accurate translation is “passionate.” True to its name, the Pathetique reveals a rainbow of emotions throughout it, from lighthearted frivolity to complete and utter despair. Hearing emotion through music instead of through words or visuals is an unforgettable experience, and one which Tchaikovsky treats with absolute grace. This symphony is one of a kind.
Also Check Out: 1812 Overture — Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky
Allegretto, from Symphony №7 in A Major, Op. 92 — Ludwig van Beethoven
The allure of this piece is a strange matter to describe or discuss. Even musical scholars have struggled for years to put their finger on the exact logic behind why the Allegretto is so captivating. Listeners have called it mysterious, haunting, seductive, heartbreaking, and even enchanting, and all for good reason. The complex rhythms and chord progressions make it tick, no doubt, but what we actually hear transcends words, and it is left up to us as humans to just experience and enjoy it.
The Allegretto was also the piece conductor Daniel Barenboim led an impromptu concert of, in Berlin on the day the city’s infamous wall came down. He agreed to conduct on the conditions that he not be paid and that the tickets were free, allowing Eastern and Western German family and friends to enjoy the music together.
Also Check Out: Ma Vlast — Bedrich Smetana
The Planets Suite — Gustav Holst
As the name suggests, each movement in this suite is named after one of the planets in our solar system (minus Earth, and also Pluto, which wouldn’t be discovered for another 14 years after this piece was composed). Mars, Venus, Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune — each movement corresponds to what Holst felt was the astrological influence each planet had on the human psyche, rather than their Roman and Greek associations. I think each planet’s music is fitting.
In 2000, an eighth movement — Pluto, the Renewer — was commissioned by the Halle Orchestra and written by Colin Matthew, and in 2003, Japanese composer Jun Nagao wrote an arrangement of The Planets, including Pluto and an added movement, Earth.
Also Check Out: Any music by John Williams, especially Star Wars
One Last Note
That’s it. Those are the pieces I would recommend to anyone wanting to take a step into the world of classical music. Each of these pieces resonated within me, and I hope they’ll do the same for you as you listen to them. I hope they have done something to prove classical music is far from boring, and that it can be enjoyed by anyone, anywhere.
