Day 19: I’m Into Something Good

HaydnCD19 At my favorite breakfast spot (Mr. Burger) this morning, eating my favorite meal (the Protein Breakfast — three eggs, scrambled, two sausage patties, two sausage links, coffee), the Herman’s Hermits song “I’m Into Something Good” caught my attention as it played over the restaurant’s Muzak system.

Despite it being a mere Pop song — one nearly half a century old at that — it’s an ear worm of a tune, absolutely infectious.

Almost against my will, I found myself tapping my fingers on the table top and nodding my head along with it.

It made me smile and think of simpler times.

It was then that I noticed the elderly customers were doing the same – smiling and bobbing their heads. I overhead one white-haired gent say to his companion, “That’s when music was good.”

Admittedly, the years 1964-1965 were banner ones for the British Invasion. UK bands like The Who, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, the Animals, Hermans Hermits and others stormed the States in a way their red-coated brethren could not a mere 189 years previously. Some of the music created during those years remains with us to this day – “I’m Into Something Good” a terrific case in point.

That got me thinking.

Was there such a thing as an “Austrian Invasion”?

I mean, if screaming hoards of teenage girls existed in Haydn’s day, did they swoon at the mere thought of seeing the man flash his pearly whites? Did they trample each other to obtain his autograph? Were emo fans caught up in Haydn’s Sturm und Drang period, crushed when it passed?

If radio existed back then, would Symphony No. 64 in A “Tempora Mutantur” have been in  heavy rotation, introduced by the Austrian version of Casey Kasem, who — with wee-his-pants excitement — counted down the symphonic hits to No. 1?

In short, was Haydn’s music always thought to be Very. Serious. Music.? Or was it considered the “Pop” music of that time, inconsequential and throwaway, because composers were sometimes either (a) starving artists, or (b) in the employ of a wealthy benefactor who paid them to crank out compositions?

If we listen to and hold something like “I’m Into Something Good” in high regard just because it’s catchy and old, do we do the same with Haydn’s symphonies? Are they really crap, but we think they’re gold because of their antiquity and complexity (especially compared to songs from Justin Bieber, Beyonce, New Kids On the Block, or Ke$ha)?

I dunno.

But I don’t have to know. I have to listen, starting with Symphony No. 64.

Movement I is stated as Allegro con spirito. However, I’m not hearing a lot of spirito. I hear a hint of Allegro. But not enough for my tastes. I’m not pulled into Symphony No. 64, especially since Movement II (“Largo”) is not peppier. In fact, it sounds like a dirge to me. It’s not until the Menuet & Trio: Allegretto of Movement III that I start to take notice. But, by then, not even the Finale: Presto of the fourth and last movement can save it.

I don’t care for Symphony No. 64.

Except I like its nickname (Tempora Mutantur), which — this time — is actually Haydn’s. According to its entry on Wikipedia:

The nickname is Haydn’s own. On the orchestra parts prepared for this symphony at Esterházy, he placed the heading “Tempora mutantur, et.” The full version of this quote is Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis, and it is a traditional Latin adage.

Haydn likely knew this in the form:

Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.

Quomodo? Fit semper tempore peior homo.

which translates to:

The times change, and we change with them.

How? Time passing makes mankind worse.

by John Owen, from his popular collection of Epigrammata published in 1615

Well, what do you know? Haydn was a pessimist. Or, maybe he was the Bob Dylan of his day: “The Times They Are a-Changin’.” Or maybe he was now in his forties and he felt time pressing on him.

Doesn’t matter. I still don’t like Symphony No. 64. I’m not sure I prefer Ke$ha to this symphony. But let’s say its close.

Symphony No. 65 in A was composed “by 1778,” which means Haydn was 46.

I’m not feeling Symphony No. 65, either. My favorite Movement is the fourth. Not because it’s the finale Movement (although that assumption wouldn’t be far off); rather, because of the use of horns in this allegedly “Presto” tempo composition.

Symphony No. 66 in B Flat, composed “around 1775-1776” (Haydn was 43 or 44), is another dud. It’s well crafted. It’s expertly played. It’s not even in the same league as Ke$ha (even thought both are referred to as “music”). But it doesn’t move me. (Although, admittedly, Movement IV’s “Finale: Scherzando e presto” is interesting in its craftsmanship.)

I guess that means it’s back to Hermans Hermits for me…

“Woke up this mornin’ feelin’ fine
there’s somethin’ special
on my mind…”

3 thoughts on “Day 19: I’m Into Something Good

  1. Maybe teenage girls had more decorum and self restraint than those of the ’60s? Or they were unaware of him since there was no mass media? Interesting thought to ponder.

  2. It’s doubtful that most of what Haydn wrote would have been that well known. At that time, most, if not all, of the wealthy upper class, and many of the wealthier bourgeoisie had a harpsichord in their homes. Teenage girls (who were of marrying age from around 13 onward) would’ve learned and played whatever was most fashionable and likely to win 1.) approval/increased social status, and 2.) a husband. The wealthy would’ve had all their friends over to have the most popular composer of the time come over to listen to whatever they’d most recently commissioned, which was how pieces became known, distributed, etc. I’m guessing that Haydn (and the other dudes he was hanging with) would’ve also used those opportunities to play other pieces he’d recently written to ‘test them out’. Makes me wonder if he ever invited people over for private concerts of his own?

    • That’s an interesting query. Did Haydn have dinner parties in which he entertained guests by playing them snippets of his latest creations? And did they roll their eyes? Or did they realize they were in the presence of greatness?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *