Beethoven's "Hymn of Thanksgiving," and More

How this former rock 'n roll editor found god (that is, Ludwig Van).

When I Rolled Over for Beethoven

Last year was kind of a milestone for me when, as the saying goes—the venerable dream for musical artists—I got to “play Carnegie Hall.” Well, kind of. Streaming at their site for two weeks was the film I co-produced for director Kerry Candaele a few years back, Following the Ninth, exploring the global/political influence of Beethoven’s final symphony, as part of Carnegie’s “Voices of Hope” series. The film has been shown in about 200 venues all over the world, but this seemed like “bringing it all back home.”

But how did this former rock ‘n roll editor (executive editor, Crawdaddy, 1971-1979) come to Beethoven and Carnegie Hall? Read on. But first, my annual posting for this week’s holiday of one of the greatest works of musical (or any) art, Beethoven’s “Heiliger Dankgesang” or “Hymn of Thanksgiving” (after he survived a grave illness), performed here by perhaps the finest string quartet in the world right now.

Now here is Bill Moyers’ tribute to the film as he introduced the lengthy trailer (included).

The film actually opens with punk/protest folkie Billy Bragg singing his new (English) lyrics for the Ninth’s "Ode to Joy.” Which he later performed not just for us but for the Queen.

Now, going back to a kind of journal from thirteen years ago, I reveal how I ended up with a film and a book (Journeys With Beethoven, also with Candaele), plus a couple more musical tributes and LvB’s own work.

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August 2009: Last night I joined about 100,000 others in Central Park on a perfect summer night to hear the New York Philharmonic perform for free Beethoven's Symphony No. 7, one of his greatest works. The mixed-age crowd loved it, and I experienced one of the most astounding large-public-gathering moments of my life: The enormous audience (even the many babies) sat rapt, silent, throughout the quiet, haunting, 2nd movement. You could only hear the murmur of traffic outside the park.

That's called "holding an audience," though nothing new for Beethoven. And because of the size and playful manner of the crowd (except during that movement), I have dubbed the event "Lud-wigstock." Still, was Central Park last night any place for a guy who was executive editor at the legendary Crawdaddy from 1971 to 1979, when my generation's main exposure to Ludwig Van was via Stanley Kubrick's Clockwork Orange or maybe the Electric Light Orchestra?

As it happens, I have become obsessed with Beethoven in the past two years. Yes, there is a bit of the political to it -- this is the man who always took the part of average folk and famously promoted the view (in his Ninth Symphony) that "all men are brothers." His "Ode to Joy" celebrated the tearing down of the Berlin Wall -- and was played when Kosovo declared its independence. It’s now the anthem of the European Union. Choruses five thousand to ten thousand strong have sung it in Japan.

Earlier this year, I was in London for my daughter's wedding and "somehow" found a way to catch three Beethoven concerts within five days. Oh, I made it to the wedding, too.

In fact, if you had told me two years ago that I would spend the morning of my 60th birthday -- and the evening of my 25th wedding anniversary -- in NYC with Beethoven, I would have laughed, or perhaps played a chord of "Wild Thing" on my guitar. After all, until that time, I did not know the difference between a cadenza and a concerto, an oboe and a bassoon. So how did this former rock 'n roll writer/editor become obsessed with Beethoven? Surely not through Dylan’s classic line about Ma Rainey and Beethoven unwrapping a bedroll. I didn’t even have any memory of the many times I listened to one of Joni Mitchell’s greatest songs back in the early 1970s, still the finest modern tribute to the artist. Did I even know it was about Beethoven?

To my utter amazement in the past year [reminder: this is 2009], I have pursued all things Beethoven via recorded music, dozens of concerts, books, movies, lectures and the new electronic delivery systems, iTunes and YouTube. I returned to Avery Fisher Hall in New York for the first time in 30 years--and this time no one was smoking pot. I scalped tickets outside Carnegie Hall, not for Dylan but for another brash international superstar, conductor Gustavo Dudamel. It's a long way from my days in rock 'n roll in the 1970s when "longhair" music did not mean classical. Now I am suddenly debating, if only with myself, the relative merits of pianists Goode, Grimaud, and Pollini, as I had once weighed the merits of Clapton, Hendrix and Harrison. “Ax” no longer means “guitar” but frequent YoYo Ma collaborator, Emanuel.

Goodbye Crosby, Stills and Nash--hello Beaux Arts Trio!

Of course, I am not alone in belatedly embracing classical music. Amid a steep falloff in CD sales of most kinds of music, sales of classical music are climbing. Many boomers have begun to put aside, or at least augment, some of the music they grew up and old with. Alex Ross--author of the (surprising) bestseller The Rest is Noise--wrote in The New Yorker that classical music is "thriving on the Internet in unexpected ways."

Why? Classical music from centuries ago may be a relief, an antidote -- even for some, a necessity -- as we boomers navigate the overwhelming be-here-now world of Blackberries, iPhones and the Web, not to mention the global economic collapse. In any case, I have come to learn how exploring new passions can develop, almost overnight, as one enters a new stage of life, such as my own Aging of Aquarius.

All I know is that Beethoven's deeply emotional, powerful and spiritual music (mainly in the lesser known, non-symphonic pieces) has enriched my own life in a profound way--and all this with only occasional "lyrics."

Consider perhaps the greatest single piano piece anyone ever wrote, which may even include the first passage of “boogie-woogie” a century before its time? And I’ve now seen Uchida (among others) execute it live in concert.

But younger people, as well, are getting into classical music, with popular "downtown" clubs opening in Berlin, New York and other cities. Maybe good old sex, drugs and baroque ‘n roll is in our future.

I'm still not sure what led me on this path (where I was usually joined and sustained by my wife). One possibility: That scene in my favorite film of recent vintage, The Lives of Others, when Beethoven's "Appassionata" piano sonata became a brief plot point. The coming of iTunes, which makes musical dabbling fun and easy? Simply boredom with current rock 'n roll? The Beethoven back story of tragedy, lost love, deafness?

Yet Beethoven, I have discovered, is far from merely a musty cultural icon. In the recent Sex and the City film, Sarah Jessica Parker reads from a love letter Beethoven wrote for his "Immortal Beloved." Every second "Fur Elise" must enter the DNA of a young pianist somewhere. Of course, I attended the recent Beethoven-derived Jane Fonda play on Broadway. Then there are the major movies with Gary Oldman as Ludwig (Immortal Beloved) and Ed Harris (Copying Beethoven). Did you know John Lennon based his song “Because” on Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” slow movement played backwards? And so on.

What Beethoven shared with the greatest rock stars -- and this explains part of the attraction for me, no doubt -- was his constant drive to top himself, to keep pushing the envelope, to finish epic pieces with a universe-cracking chord or sustained grace note. He was the first "heroic" composer, a mantle later worn by the likes of John Lennon. I've come to believe that, with Shakespeare, he is the greatest artist the West has produced (feel free to argue with this in comments).

But there's another thing: After years of being among the oldest at rock concerts, it feels great to find myself a bit below the median age at most of the classical shows. And as the poet Ruth Padel put it not long ago, the master “lives on,” whether we are aware of it or not, “dancing, dancing / in you, me, everyone.”

Song Pick of the Day

Chuck Berry wrote it, and here the Beatles play it, and George sings it. Roll Over, my man, and tell Top 40 the news!

And R.I.P.

Just learned: Wilko Johnson, the distinctive and influential, if not so well known Dr. Feelgood guitarist, has died at age 75. I saw him perform on one of the greatest rock 'n roll songs ever, in 1974, as here:

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Greg Mitchell is the author of a dozen books, including the bestseller The Tunnels (on escapes under the Berlin Wall), the current The Beginning or the End (on MGM’s wild atomic bomb movie), and The Campaign of the Century (on Upton Sinclair’s left-wing race for governor of California), which was recently picked by the Wall St. Journal as one of five greatest books ever about an election. His new film, Atomic Cover-up, just had its world premiere and is drawing extraordinary acclaim. For nearly all of the 1970s he was the #2 editor at the legendary Crawdaddy. Later he served as longtime editor of Editor & Publisher magazine. He recently co-produced a film about Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.