Back at primary school when my classmates were listening to groups like Bon Jovi and were getting ecstatic with songs like Europe’s “Final Countdown” the only music I had in my possession were two tapes with Mozart’s opera The Magic Flute. Of course that was not something to be proud of. I remember looking up to my classmates for being acquainted with all those fancy sounding groups. The only non-classical groups I knew, because of my parents, were The Beatles and The Doors. Knowing “Riders on the Storm”, however, did not make me any more popular among my peers - The Doors was a group that might as well have been called The Windows…
So back at primary school I was this weird kid that knew “Riders on the Storm” and the arias of Papageno which felt like a curse when the only thing I wanted was to fit in. It was only many years later that I was able to break free from my parents’ musical preferences and listen to other stuff as well. I remember my mother freaking out with the records I would bring home. It was of no importance to her, however, if I too was freaking out with the opera arias she would wake me up with every fucking Saturday morning. For my mom it was a case of basic algebra. Classic = good, Modern = bad.
So free from her tastes I broke eventually, or so it seemed, for how can you really break free from something that runs in your veins since birth? An opera lover I never became but The Magic Flute is still one of my favorite works of music ever. Plus there are times when I cannot listen to anything else but classical music. Still, growing up, I never really came to enjoy the composer of my favorite opera. As a teenager and piano student I loved Bach and Beethoven but disliked the Romantics and, yes, Mozart. I think I found him too…optimistic and playful - and a playful life I was not leading. I was finding Beethoven’s dark depths and Bach’s mysticism more suited to my teenage temperament. I still dislike the Romantics, but dear old Mozart; I’ve come to love, which is strange and unexpected. His playfulness I no longer find annoying, plus nowadays he sounds more melancholic to me than he ever did. I guess I can now discern this happy / sad blend in his music that I find characteristic of me as well and therefore I can comprehend.
Today it is Mozart’s birthday. He would have been 250 years old if alive. I find touching how Europe decided to unite its citizens with a 24 hour simultaneous broadcast of live concerts and other programs in honor of Mozart. I’d rather have Mozart uniting Europe anytime than the idiots at the Eurovision song contest – even though I fear very few people are watching today’s broadcast. Still, for me this broadcast is a more intimate affair – it’s like Mozart grinning at me triumphantly from the grave: “I knew you would come to love me in the end!”
