Play Me!
I LOVE this piece. It's called "Ikarus", and it's taken from Jean Guillou's collection of six pieces entitled "Sagas". Perhaps you are familiar with the mythical story of Ikarus (often spelled Icarus): Ikarus was was the son of the Athenian craftsman, Daedalus. Daedalus and Ikarus were imprisoned in the labyrinth he had built for Minos, the King of Crete. In order to escape, Daedalus made two pair of wings made of wax and feathers for himself and his son. He warned Ikarus not to fly too close to the sea, else his feathers would get wet and be too heavy for flight. Daedalus also warned Ikarus not to fly too close to the sun, else the wax would melt and he would fall to his death. Ikarus is full excitement as he tries his wings for the first time. His adrenaline begins to rush. He swoops and swoons, flying faster and faster, higher and higher, ignoring his father's warnings. His youthful daring proves to be his downfall (literally). Ikarus flies too close to the sun, melting the wax of his wings, and he plunges to his death in the sea.
What I love about this piece is that you can hear the story within it. You hear the first halted swoops at the beginning of flight as Ikarus gets used to his new mode of transportation - the music is not constant in its rhythm, but stops and starts as if the performer is not yet sure of what he wants to do. You hear Ikarus gradually accelerate into a sustained, but clearly reckless joyride - the music eventually "settles" into a constant rhythm, but it is full of jagged shapes and gestures that utilize the heights and depths of the instrument. You hear Ikarus finally meet his doom, falling faster and faster to his fatal impact with the sea - clearly depicted at in the final measures as the music accelerates and accelerates to an abrupt ending. Wicked.
I few days ago I was perusing through a thread of comments on Facebook about organ concerts - there was much lamenting about the lack of popularity of the instrument, and there were several comments blaming organists who play music that is too esoteric or raw. I suppose the piece you are listening to may fall into that category for some. It begs the question: it is really my job as a performer - as an artist - to play pretty songs for the audience? Now I am a firm believer in programming music that a) sounds good on the intended instrument, b) pairs staples of the repertoire with new pieces, and c) has a flow that tells a story from the beginning of the recital to the end. Choosing pieces for a recital is an art in itself, sometimes made impossible because of the horrible instruments you have to play them on. But that's our job - to create a transcendent experience for the audience, no matter what is coming out of that instrument. I'm not even going to pretend that I always succeed at this. Sometimes you plan a program that looks fantastic on paper but in the end you just want to light a match in the organ chamber and walk away.
But wouldn't it be a shame, really, if we never had the privilege of hearing pieces like "Ikarus" because people couldn't go home whistling the tune? Must we only play music that makes us smile and ignore all the compositions that reveal the dark side of the soul? After all, the world isn't all pink and pastel. We can only pretend to live inside our favorite Thomas Kinkade painting for so long until the paint starts melting away to expose the stained canvas underneath. That's where the juicy stuff is. Those are the times when we really show our humanity, good or bad. And if art is life, then someone has to go out there and tell the truth as it really is. I think that's our true calling as artists - to tell the truth through our medium.
What do you think?
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