Romantic Music

I have a problem with Romantic Music -- not love songs, but the Romantic Period of classical music, which had counterparts in art and literature. I don't hate it all, and I actually appreciate the way composers experimented and pushed boundaries. Berlioz made use of extra brass choirs in his Messe des Morts, which was kind of a cool concept -- there's a full orchestra onstage, and there are small groups of brass instruments in various other parts of the concert hall, kind of a pre-electronic Surround Sound. Wagner tested the limits of singers', instrumentalists', and audiences' endurance with operas that were 3-4 hours long, as well as testing their tolerance for one man's ego. It's good to try stuff like that.

My problem is in the area of emotion. I've learned, through experience, that I don't respond well when I'm told what to feel and when. Romantic music is all about manipulating emotion, and it's not at all subtle. If you listen to some Romantic pieces, especially the "programmatic" ones that tell a story, it's like the composer is sitting next to you, saying, "Did you feel that? Were you moved there? How about here? Are you about to cry? Are you in love with this woman the way I was in love with her? Do you want to kill yourself the way I wanted to kill myself when she spurned me? I'll kill myself now if you don't like my music." I used to outright hate that stuff because, as in many church situations, I never felt what I was supposed to. It didn't take long for me to get defensive, and to assume a crossed-arm posture and an attitude of, "Go ahead, try and make me feel something."

A friend told me once that she loves that stuff, that she likes music that "tugs at your heart." Maybe my deal is that I just don't like having my heart tugged. I prefer an offered hand. It takes confidence to say what you have to say and allow the listener the freedom not to respond. Then, if what you say is compelling, the listener's heart will come to you. I feel like Brahms did this in his symphonies and large choral works. He wrote in the Romantic Era, and his sounds are romantic sounds, but I don't feel hit over the head with a passive-aggressive hammer. His stuff is quite dramatic, but I don't feel like he's shouting, "Feel sorry for me! Love me! Admire me! Shave your head for me!" He's just putting his own heart into music, and when I hear it, I'm there. The same is true with Rachmaninoff, whose sounds were hopelessly Romantic; they'd be downright sappy if they weren't so good. But I'm free to feel what I feel when I listen; I don't have his experience foisted on me; I can have my own experience, and it can be different each time.

I won't hate any of you for liking Romantic music. You allowed me to like Country music, so I'll extend you the same courtesy. I think, at the heart of this, there may be some parallels between my reaction to music and my reaction to, well, everything else. My heart just won't do what it's told. It's not cold, it's just unpredictable. When it does react to something, it's as much of a surprise to me as anyone.