“Disease is spreading, war is stalking, famine reigns far and wide,” cries the Miserecordium chorus. And again in the Heroes: “It’s farewell to the drawing-room’s civilized cry…Now matters are settled with gas and bomb,”
I don’t know how far in advance musical programs are chosen, but I suspect it is well ahead of the performance date - what with programs to be printed and rehearsals scheduled, etc. A year? More? Did anyone suspect a year or more ago that war would be in the air on November 14, 2002? Did anyone consciously plan to remind this audience of war’s awfulness even as the righteous thrill builds for the impending clash? Regardless, I couldn't miss the acrid tang of smoldering evil even while the texts of both pieces celebrated compassion and bravery. More than the words, the music itself seemed to be saying: One day, sooner or later, we will awaken to the horror we have allowed to be unleashed when we supported this war. And it will smell like the sound of Britten's piano and harp accents. It will haunt us like the aftershocks of witnessing the scene of a bad highway accident – even though the scene has a delicious allure as we approach and pass.
Some say it’s time for America to assume its role of Empire, and to use swift and overwhelming force in maintaining order in the world and safety for itself. They blame previous timidity and hesitation for the buildup of secret terrorist elements that wreaked vast destruction on its shores, as well as on its interests abroad. There is an appeal to this good-cop/bad-cop persona. It seems like an effective way to get even with the bad guys of the world. The wielding of overwhelming physical force is seductive, especially when done for a good purpose. But the intoxication of erupting power only masks our innate revulsion at the tragedy we perpetrate through its destructive use and sets us up for the inevitable hangover.
If the sequence could be reversed, hangover first and the binge second, maybe there wouldn’t be a binge. Maybe the double-barreled Britten program is a way of giving us a taste and smell of the awfulness we seem to be ignoring in our run up to war.
Even so, I wonder how many of the patrons in Symphony Hall that night made the connection. Hard to tell. They seemed to be happy to applaud the performances, with the performers taking the requisite smiling bows, a ritual that acts like a chaser to the strong drink just consumed -- as if to say, aw shucks folks, we didnt' really mean it.
Whoever planned the program must have figured the audience would probably need more comforting than that. The evening concluded with a big hunk of Schubert pound cake and whipped cream that seemed intended to offset the grim pungency of the preceding battles of Britten.
But I wonder if anyone else went home catching whiffs of war hangover in the air.
Norm Coleman won Minnesota because he was well-financed and well-packaged. Norm is a slick retail campaigner, the grabbiest and touchingest and feelingest politician in Minnesota history, a hugger and baby-kisser, and he's a genuine boomer candidate who reinvents himself at will. Salon.com Politics | Empty victory for a hollow manThis site may require you to register and pay for the content. If you want the full text of the article, email me here
