Showing posts with label religon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religon. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

In Polite Company

Politics, religion, sex: the three things worth talking about.

Politics, religion, sex: the three things you're not supposed to talk about in polite company.

Politics, religion, sex: by any measure, we (new, experimental, avant-garde etc.) composers, don't deal too much with these three topics directly in our music; for ostensible radicals, we do tend to be polite (not to mention prudent and purient) company. Sure, some of us handle one theme or another, even specializing in it, but when we deal with one, we just as steadfastly avoid the others. Even when we write words, we might wade with caution into one or another of these topics, but never all three. In part, this is because our art form does deal -- and richly -- with matters internal to music and its technique, and is thus prone to abstraction, and in part because the intensity of training in music leaves little time or energy for deep immersion in the complexities of other fields, so we defer to experts, but aren't we citizens as well? And isn't it possible that the musical experience can also bring some expertise -- practical, social, technical, aesthetic -- to the greater discussions in our communities?

Politics, religion, sex: There have been, by my count, three major composers who dealt with all three themes in a major way. That's right, three: Handel, Mozart and Verdi. (Okay, four, if you want to throw in Wagner, but during music blog sweeps season, that'd seem like pandering). Other composers can handle one or maybe two (Ives and Cage (politics, and, loosely, religion), Messiaen and Stockhausen (religion and -- however modestly -- sex)).

Politics, religion, sex: I suspect most composers, most of the time, play just enough politics and religious politics in order to get their music made and insure a reasonable life-style. I assume that sex is part of that reasonable life-style, but we're polite company, and we don't talk about it.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Angelology

The lattice of coincidence has allowed the media a unique moment to ponder two heterodox theologies, those of the Republican candidate for his party's presidential nomination, Mitt Romney, a professed Mormon, and those of Karlheinz Stockhausen, whose religious idiolect has a mixture of sources, from the Cologne-style Catholicism of his childhood -- a tradition which has persistent pre-Christian elements -- to the outer-space theogony of The Urantia Book, with a special attachment to the star Sirius.

Interestingly, both theologies have some common elements, with god-like existence beyond this plane promised to believers, a strong (if somewhat generic and decidely pre-feminist) eternal mother figure, and -- in common with a number of traditions, an antagonist angel with the name of Lucifer. The Mormon Lucifer attracted some controversy when a competitor of Mr Romney pointed out that LDS theology considered Lucifer to be the younger brother of Jesus. The press rapidly took up Romney's dismissal of this point, and the competitor, Mr Huckabee, apologized, although his remarks did, indeed, appear to restate the Mormon viewpoint (see here, for an official statement). Mormon theology is heterodox from a consensus shared by most Protestant, Catholic, and Orthodox churches on a number of issues, ranging from orginal sin to the nature of Christ and mankind in relationship to God, and in particular to the topic of slavation and heaven, so that when Mr Romney identifies Jesus as "the savior of mankind", he is not identifying a personal savior (which is unnecessary, in the absence of original sin), and speaking of a very different kind of salvation, in which all those sealed by the church (including those sealed in memoriam) will go as Gods themselves to heaven, and like God and the Great Mother continue to be fruitful and multiply.

Mr Stockhausen's theology, and in particular that expressed in the seven-day opera cycle, Licht, largely adopts the figure of Lucifer from The Urantia Book, but adds a number of characteristics, in particular a tendency towards clowning or tricksterism, not found in the rather humourless Urantia Book, but widespread among other faiths and fictions. It's probably still to early to attempt a sober analysis of the theology behind the Licht cycle, and, indeed, it may not prove to be a consistant one or one that even coincides with much precision to Stockhausen's own faith (the same can be said for Wagner and the Ring), but it is striking that, as an artwork with theogenic elements, the one great lacuna is, in fact, a deity. Indeed, given that the overwhelming narrative and textual substance of the work is a kind of free association extended rap around the composer's autobiography, it is hard to escape the conclusion that in the universe of Licht, the relationship between the composer and a creator God is largely one of identity.

Addendum: A description of Stockhausen's funeral is to be found here.