The Magic of Mozart’s Sonata No. 11
I was ready to seize the day when I opened my eyes this morning. Time to rise and shine; time to make things happen! No matter what my intentions were, it was just one of those mornings. One annoying thing after another kept chipping away at my go-getter attitude. You know, one of those days where you wake up and maybe you stub your toe getting out of bed, doing your best to stifle a ridiculously lengthy string of curse words. Then perhaps you shake it off and decide on a nice hot cup of tea, only to discover that you used the last of it yesterday. The sad little green box taunting you with it’s emptiness; tormenting you with all of the room that could be taken up by bags of help-you-wake-up leaves. It’s almost as if Ahmad Green Tea himself (like he’s actually an individual) is standing there in his stately tea-leaf suit saying, “You don’t have enough today, bub.” So you sigh and tell yourself caffeine is overrated and turn around to make yourself a warm breakfast instead. Of course, with the way your morning is going, you discover that the gas bottle is just as empty as the box of tea. Grumbling under your breath as you drag out the extra bottle, you take off the safety cap and realize that the valve looks like a stray dog used it as a chew toy. Okay, no warm breakfast either then. To top it all off, maybe you pick up your phone and find an email telling you that your forgot to pay your cell phone bill. The weight of the morning’s little frustrations starts to weigh on you.
Now,I’m not saying that any of this necessarily happened to me this morning, I’m just trying to paint a picture of my not-so-wonderful morning and give you an idea of the level of irritation I was at only minutes after waking up. As you can ascertain, my positive enthusiasm for making it a great day was quickly evaporating.
In an attempt to stave off the negative vibes from the morning, I took a deep breath and decided to combat the tightness in my chest and impending headache with a little music. I grabbed my phone (silently celebrating the fact that they hadn’t shut me off yet) and opened my music app. I decided on some mellow piano tunes to calm my nerves. Almost immediately, my ears were bathed with the soothing melody of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Sonata No. 11, more widely known as the “Turkish March”. As I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes, I let my non-caffeinated mind soak in the masterful arrangement that Mozart had so skillfully crafted. The sonata, which is a term used to describe a classical music piece made up of three separate parts, flowed gracefully around the room, filling in any negative space and replacing it with melodious perfection.
As the movement continued, I could almost picture a Turkish Janissary band marching the morning’s annoyances right out the door and into someone else’s life. The band, mainly made up of kidnapped Christian men, crashed their cymbals, banged their drums, and sounded their brass under the mask of ivory keys. I felt myself march, march, marching my way to a better outlook for the day. A deep sense of gratitude filled my chest toward Mozart and his desire to compose this masterpiece to meet the music trends of the late 18th century.
My grumpy mood quickly evolved into some curious thinking as I began to imagine this tour de force being performed by an orchestra; what a musical extravaganza that would be! The enthusiastic tempo of the music sent me marching over to my computer to see if I could find an example. Much to my delight, I immediately came across a YouTube video demonstrating just what I was imagining. Not only was the melody even more uplifting and enthusiastic, but the orchestra’s conductor added to the entertainment as well. I always find it engaging to watch conductors interact with their musicians; with such skilled grace and oftentimes a touch of humor.
In the video, Russian conductor Misha Rachlevsky pretends to look at a violinist’s music score to see if he is accurately doing his job. After briefly consulting with the musician, he begins to conduct the piece at a slower tempo. Continuing on in his little charade, Rachlevsky then tries to speed it up again, making it appear as he prefers the tempo faster. All the while the orchestra feigns a struggle to keep up. He then utters something presumably Russian into the microphone to the delight of the audience and finishes up the performance at top-speed. Because the music sounds so rushed, it automatically gives listeners a sense of panic and hurriedness so at the end of the piece, all of the musicians briskly rush off stage along with Rachlevsky!
So here I sit, smiling from ear to ear, the irritating events of the morning a distant memory. Thank you Mozart and Rachlevsky, now I truly am ready to seize the day!
This piece is written in conjunction with American freelance artist Suzanne Griffin.
