It has been said, and for the most part is true, that a composer's music is reflective of his/her personality, value system, world-view, passions, and emotional state. The same can be said of writers, artists, dancers, and to an extent actors. Of course it is a dangerous practice and often erroneous to assume that because something sounds dramatic, the composer was in a dramatic emotional condition. Or conversely that a happy, light hearted composition implies frivolity within the creator's psyche. A classic example of this anathema is Mozart who as he was in pain and nearing death composed The Magic Flute and several other bright, energetic works.
Often a young, creative artist pushes the envelope early in his career only to find a more conservative style in his later years. Yet a careful but broad look, without the inanity associated with microanalysis, at a composers body of work does usually reveal a general philosophical approach to life. Such is the case with the odd genius of one of our great American composers, Charles Ives (1874-1954).
Growing up as the son of a creative and experimental band leader and a product of rigorous church devotion, Charles found himself in the tenuous and exciting world of conservative tension--that tug of war that causes a creative person to desire to change the world, find something new, express originality, yet within a traditional kind of model of his forebears. He sees the world as dull, listless, and sluggish, but also likes some of the world as it is while constantly criticizing complacency. He wants change but resists it at the same time. His is one of inconsistency, charm, emotional extremes, intelligence, but also heritage without conformity.
So in the music of Ives we find a love of folk music, a sophisticated brilliance, a complex confusion, an unbridled joy, deep introspection, and mostly great moments of personal expression. While disdaining academia, he embraces it. While shunning the elite world of cultured musicians and their inherent stuffiness, he cannot help but to be one. His originality propelled his music to new heights of musical creativity while retaining a sense of love of the past. In other words, Ives created his own brand of music with an odd desire to be accepted by the masses while battling for fierce independence. Kind of a populist approach but only to a niche market. Perhaps his utter brilliance could not reign victorious over his insecurity. Or maybe it did! Did he want to be popular and go the pathway of musical success? Or did he purposely take the road less traveled, caring not for public opinion? Or both?
Much of Charles Ives' music seems to make fun of the elite although most of it is quite sophisticated and advanced. His songs, symphonies, chamber music are all incredible crafted, stunningly expressive, wildly inventive, but ironically anachronistic. New in many ways, unpredictable most of the time but drawing from his religious background and folk influence. A philosophical forerunner to the eclecticism of Leonard Bernstein. Ives' music is difficult to define, impossible to categorize or pigeonhole, disturbing to the tonal folks, conservative to the experimental folks, and in the end--just Ives.
It has taken me 50 years to reach a point of liking his music, but today I declare an Ives day. His songs are on youtube and they are simply wonderful in all respects. His piano works can be found there as well and each piece is pure joy and magnificence. It is all Ives in the throes of great creativity and originality. Like it or not, you can hear his fiercely independent nature shining forth in the notes.
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