It's probably no secret to many that in his later years, when composing some of his greatest works, Beethoven was profoundly deaf. That it did not act as an impediment for him to create such masterpieces is testament to his genius. And we are not just talking about someone using their memory to recall the aural shape of a singular tune; we are talking about a man being able to fit layer upon layer of complex harmonies onto and into one another, without ever being able to hear if what sounded right in his head was right in practice. Imagine a chef assembling a meal without the aid of his sense of taste or smell. Imagine an artist drawing portraits without the aid of sight. I know there are those who find the existence of such people baffling and even daunting. I feel happy and secure in the knowledge that I feel nothing but gratitude that there are such extraordinary people living and working amongst us from time to time. It is inspiring.
That Beethoven (and so many like him) could compose such works is miraculous enough, but this is barely the half of it. For such music to survive in the world, people actually have to learn how to play it.
I love music. I enjoy singing. I'm not sure many people would enjoy hearing me sing, but then I've only ever really sung for myself. I've been learning to play the guitar, and have almost learnt one whole chord after only eleven years of attempts. Ok, I haven't devoted that much time to it, but I'm fairly certain that even with daily practice, I'd still probably only know two chords. Three, tops.
That there are people out there prepared to put in the hours and hours of work required to be able to play their particular part in Beethoven concerto is something for which all people should be extremely grateful. And so often, what these extraordinary musicians learn is a part that, musically, cannot stand on its own. It is a part of a much larger, fuller whole, and only comes to life when completely integrated into the whole work.
That achieving this integration takes an extraordinary amount of effort should come as no surprise. To get forty-odd people to play an extremely complex work in complete musical harmony with each other (of about thirty-eight minutes in length) requires the kind of dedication to synchronicity that few people ever give themselves over to as fully as those in orchestras must do.
This may not seem an especially lateral post, but it has lateral intent. It is not so lateral (or pithy) as to simply offer the suggestion that all folk should join an orchestra, or even a team of some kind which mandates the kind of shared ideal that can push otherwise ordinary folk to excel. No, it's more about expressing the simple, if fervent wish that all people could feel that risk and reward of striving for something remarkable. It need not be artwork - striving for family unity can be miraculous enough. But as Robin Williams' Mr Keating once warned in Dead Poets Society, we ought not let the things we create be ordinary.
Last night, at the scheduled conclusion of the concert, I watched the piano soloist, after an urging from a rapt audience to share more of his extraordinary abilities, play a version of Beethoven's moonlight sonata that that drew the oxygen from the room. It reminded me just how much society needs people to strive beyond the ordinary in some way, shape or form. Without them, our world is a far, far poorer place.
Perhaps the ultimate lateral idea is that our Government should invest as much money as is needed to ensure that all people are given the opportunity to develop their gifts to their fullest potential, so all can share in their efforts and their talents. Last night reminded me just how precious these talents can be. Just think; Beethoven lived about two hundred years ago. Do we want to let the next Beethoven languish in an office, or the next Einstein never make out of his (or her) patent office?
Lord, I hope not.
