Counterpoint
by Mick Watson, Massachusetts
Cradling in his arms the just completed score for his Mass in B Minor, Johann Sebastian Bach exited the Thomas Kirche in Leipzig through the side door connected to his Kapellmeister’s offices. He wanted to have copies printed right away and send one to his son, Carl, for safekeeping. He had been working on the score for so long, revising different sections, combining earlier compositions, and now here it was—an overly long Evangelische Mass in an unwieldy key and with the addition of a large orchestra to accompany the choir. Maybe it was to be his magnum opus, the vanguard of music in 1749--or maybe it would be his grand folly--but he did love the music so. He wasn’t feeling well of late and hoped he would live to hear the mass performed.
That night, after tossing and turning in fitful patches of sleep, he found that a glimmering, translucent circle had appeared next to his bed. For some unfathomable reason, he knew what it was--a portal through time that could lead him into the future. Johann couldn’t resist. With hardly a second thought, he climbed out of bed, hurried on his everyday clothes, forgetting his wig, and stepped through the shimmering portal.
For a brief moment he was surrounded by solid dark gray and thought he smelled earthy soil, but immediately he stepped into a small office lit by two candles on a nearby writing table. Sitting at the table was a man with disheveled hair, mumbling to himself, who, with quill in hand, seemed to be writing a letter. They both stared at each other in amazement with their mouths agape.
“Johann Sebastian Bach!” the man at the desk finally exclaimed. “Herr Bach, what a joyous surprise. This is…this is my dream come true….Pardon me for being so forward. May I introduce myself. I’m Ludwig Van Beethoven. I know you don’t know who I am because I wasn’t even born until after you…well…after you died. But I know who you are. Welcome to my home.”
After recovering from his surprise, Johann replied, “I’m pleased to meet you, Herr Van Beethoven. I….”
“Oh, please call me Ludwig. I would guess that you are surprised and confused by what has happened to you. I believe I know somewhat concerning this strange occurrence. Oh, and you must forgive me for I can’t hear you. To my great dismay, I have gone completely deaf. I try to read lips but with only minor success, so you will need to bear with me and write out your conversation with me on these sheets of paper.”
“I know I stepped through some strange time portal and expected to enter the future, which I surmise is exactly what I did. Oh, here, let me write it out. And, please, call me Johann.”
“Johann, you are correct. You see, on several occasions in the last year, in the late evenings, I have found this same shimmering circle—this time portal as you call it—appearing in my own room. I have so wanted to step through, and it seemed to beckon me, but on each occasion at the last minute I refrained from doing so. I am afraid if I do indeed step through I will not be able to return to my present time….Oh, I’m sorry to bring up that point. I hope you will be able to return to your time as well….One piece of advice: I happen to have learned that if one steps through the portal forward, one travels to the future, and if one backs through the portal, one travels to the past.”
Johann wrote out on the paper, “How did you obtain this information if you have never stepped through the portal? And how does one control where one will end up?”
“When the portal first appeared to you, didn’t you intuitively know what it was? I have learned if one is situated near the portal, more information and instructions will come to him. That is how I know what little I do about this time tunnel. As to where you end up, I don’t know how or if you can control that. Someone, I don’t know who, but someone visited me briefly the first time the portal appeared in my room. He told me that this is a music tunnel. It is able to take influential composers through time to meet other renowned composers and hear their music. I think it is quite possible you cannot control where you end up, but you will be placed with other composers. This tunnel may provide a connection to a brotherhood of such people.”
“Then are you…” Johann paused and then wrote further, “such a renowned composer?”
“I don’t want to sound conceited, but yes I am. My work has been widely accepted and praised, but what do I care what others think, I know myself that my music will outlast them all.”
“But, Ludwig, how could you be a great composer if you are deaf and can’t even hear the music?”
“I was not always deaf, only in the last few years. My loss of hearing has been a living hell for me. However, just as I’m sure you do, I can hear all the music in my head, plainly and in its complexity. I do not need ears to hear. And I do not need ears to transcribe the music in my head to a score.”
“Surprisingly, I understand you, Ludwig. What year is this anyway?”
“Oh, it is 1824. As fate would have it, on the morrow, my latest symphony—Number 9 in D Minor—is to have its premier performance here in Vienna. I would be honored if you would attend as my guest. But we must not let others know of your actual identity. I will be conducting the orchestra and chorus.”
“How can you conduct if you are deaf?”
“Remember, I can always hear the music. But they also have another conductor in back of me to assist. They think I don’t know that they laugh at me, with all my wild gyrations as I conduct what I feel. I know the musicians are paying attention to the other conductor, but for me I view this performance as my magnum opus.”
“Perhaps that is why I traveled to this particular time. You see, I just completed the score of a major piece—a Mass in B minor—with a large chorus and rather unwieldy orchestra, which I felt I needed to add. I felt that my music could not be conveyed without the full chorus and orchestra.”
“Oh I had a similar problem, but somewhat in reverse. I first had a full symphony orchestra, but I felt I could not express what I felt without adding a large chorus.”
“You call it a symphony. What form of music is that?”
“As you know, we have all composed concertos consisting of three movements. Nowadays, we also compose larger works—symphonies—consisting of four movements.”
Johann asked tentatively, “Have you heard my Mass in B Minor?”
“No, I am sorry to say. I don’t recall it having been performed.”
“Ludwig, for most of my musical career, I have been a well regarded composer, but sadly, of late, I believe people think I’m out of touch with the music of the times. I have heard people talk about me as if I no longer matter.”
“But, Johann, you are still remembered, and your music is still performed. And I have listened to and studied many compositions of yours. Your development of counterpoint in your melodies and harmonies will, I believe, always live on and influence music.”
Johann was quiet for some time.
The next day, Johann sat transfixed in the audience as he listened to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Beethoven’s music was like nothing he had ever heard or imagined. The harmonies and intricacies and interweaving of themes were so complex, and yet they made sense to him. He thought, how could a human being ever compose something so right, so complete as this? At the end of the performance, when Ludwig needed to be turned around to see the applause, a collective gasp arose, as the audience became aware that Beethoven had not been able to hear his own music, and their applause intensified. Johann knew differently, and he knew he could hear his own beloved Mass as well.
That evening, as the two composers discussed their musical ideas, the portal again appeared beside them. Johann wrote, “I believe the portal is beckoning me, and I have a desire to travel even further into the future to see what other great composers have wrought. But, Ludwig, why don’t you join me as we discover the future together?”
Ludwig answered, “I am indeed tempted, Johann, but something prevents me from making the jump. Although I have no problem hearing my own music as well as music I have heard before I lost my hearing, it would be quite futile for me to travel into the future where I couldn’t hear the music of those composers. I shall stay here and only hope the music from both of us is enjoyed for generations. Good by, my friend.”
For the second time, Johann stepped through the portal and into what appeared to be a large music room, with a piano to one side of a sofa. Seated at the piano was an old man with straight hair down past his ears. He wore a baggy, white shirt and baggy white pants and was barefoot. With his eyes closed, he was thumping through some piano chords and humming along. When the circle appeared next to the sofa and Johann stepped through, the man stopped playing, looked at Johann and smiled with a twinkle in his very blue eyes.
“Welcome, whoever you are. I’ve used this portal myself, and I suspected at some point someone would come to visit me. Since I’m sure you are wondering, I’m Paul McCartney. We’re in London, and the year is 2020. And who might you be?”
“My name is Johann Sebastian Bach, and I have come from the year 1749, but I just left a visit with Ludwig Van Beethoven in the year 1824. Have you heard of either of us? You will need to excuse my English, Mr. McCartney. It is in need of practice.”
Paul McCartney laughed. “Of course I’ve heard of both of you. Everyone has. You are perhaps the two greatest composers of all time, which makes me feel honored that the portal would bring you to visit me. I have paid close attention to your music and to Beethoven’s as well. I think you’re going to find that my music is not in the same league as yours, I’m sorry to say. Oh, and you can call me Paul. We are very informal in this day and age.”
“It is well, Paul. Please call me Johann. I am so interested in hearing your music and learning about you, but before we go any further, I must be so forward as to ask you, have you ever heard a large piece I wrote entitled “Mass in B Minor? I have not yet heard it performed.”
“Of course I’ve heard it. It’s beautiful, although it isn’t my style of music. It’s a landmark piece and will probably last for all time. I’ve personally been influenced more by some of your concertos and fugues.”
“It does my heart good to hear that. Have you ever heard Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in D Minor?”
“Yes, that’s also a piece of music that will last forever. You know, it was the last symphony he wrote.”
“Well, tell me more about yourself and your music.”
“Where to begin? The music of today is so extremely different than the music in your day. The most influential composers are usually also singers and performers with small bands, and rather than compose lengthy pieces like symphonies or concertos or church services, musician-composers of today write a lot of songs, and the composers write the lyrics as well. And then we record them and put them together on albums or CDs or vinyl records or simply put them out there for people to listen to on computers and home stereo systems. I guess our albums could be the equivalent of your concertos or symphonies.”
“I don’t understand most of what you have said.”
“Okay, let me start over. Much of our music is improvised, and I know you can appreciate that because both you and Beethoven were superb improvisers. We write a lot of popular songs, I guess like folk songs and dances in your day. We perform them live in concerts, but we now have the capability, using modern methods and technology, to record the music we perform and keep it permanently on small disks. Here let me get a few and show you. He showed Johann several CDs and vinyl records. Then, we can play them back on a machine that puts the sound through speakers, like these here. So you see, this music can be taken anywhere and played by anyone who has this equipment—these machines. And the music can be carried around with you wherever you go. And now the music is simply out there as sound waves and can be picked up and played on a machine called a computer. You don’t even need these speakers. You can play it through this small cell phone and listen to the music on head phones, like these.”
“It is amazing. It is difficult for me to fathom.”
“You asked about my music. I was part of a band called The Beatles—four guys who wrote and sang these songs. We played guitar, bass guitar, and drums to accompany ourselves. We’ve been so popular that, I have to admit, we’ve had a great influence on music all around the world.”
Paul selected the vinyl, Abbey Road, gave Johann the cover and then placed the record on the turntable and turned on the system. He had Johann sit in a chair back from the speakers and centered on them. As the music poured forth from the speakers, Johann quivered, almost frightened, and then gradually grew accustomed to the sound and tried to listen carefully. Closing his eyes and leaning back comfortably, he remained quiet throughout the entire album.
Paul waited for a response from Johann. “Paul, I have never heard anything like this music. I could comprehend Beethoven’s, but this is beyond my ken. Once I settled into the music, however, I could hear your beautiful melodies. You are a gifted melody writer.”
“I should tell you that much of this music was composed jointly by me and my fellow musicians, mainly John Lennon and George Harrison….they have now passed on. And do you know, we recorded that music back in 1969. I was so much younger then. Here, you can see a picture of us on the album cover.”
“You were barefoot then as well. Do you ever wear shoes?”
Paul laughed, “Of course.”
“I was also surprised at the richness of the instrumental accompaniment that you could achieve with so few instruments--and the variety of the sounds. They sounded like no instruments I am familiar with. I also was struck by the dominance of the drums and bass and the constant beating rhythm on the pieces. Although I found some of the music to be a little harsh and repetitive, such as in the pieces you call, let’s see, here: I want you and Mean Mr. Mustard and Polythene Pam (whatever that means). As I kept listening I tried to keep an open mind. The music washed over me, and I found myself carried away by it. It is sometimes dissonant, sometimes sweet, like the pieces Something and Golden Slumbers, but it was almost always compelling. I would like to listen to it again to familiarize myself further with the scales and chord progressions that you use in your songs. It seems indeed that you use a plethora of Seventh chords and minor Sevenths….And how do you get those sounds from your instruments?”
“We now have a power source called electricity. I don’t think I can explain it to you. It’s difficult for me to understand, to tell you the truth, but it powers everything, including musical instruments. Here I’ll show you.” Paul retrieved an electric guitar and plugged it into his amplifier. He then demonstrated the sound with soft chords and loud runs. He then switched to an electric bass and showed Johann how he could achieve such volume from this one instrument.
Johann asked, “Would it be possible to venture forth into your world to experience some of the other wonders that seem to abound?”
Paul answered, “I don’t think that would be wise. You see, at present we are suffering through a terrible pandemic. The entire world has been overrun with a disease that is harming millions of people. We must stay inside and sequestered to keep from spreading the disease and for our own safety. It’s like the Black Plague that you will recall devastated so much of the world, before your time.”
“I understand.”
While the two of them enjoyed a beer together and ate potato chips, a new taste for Johann, Paul connected to Spotify and allowed Johann to hear his entire Mass in B Minor. Afterwards, Johann, with tears in his eyes, thanked Paul.
“I have one more piece I would like to play for you. I think you’ll recognize it. This time I want you to listen to the music through these headphones.” Paul brought up the Largo from one of Johann’s harpsichord concertos as it was sung acapella by the Swingle Singers.
After listening intently, Johann exclaimed, “What marvels they have done with my music. It is mine, but it seems to be so a part of your day. I think to myself, why didn’t I think of that?”
“Johann, when other people keep using your music and reinventing it, you know it has become a permanent part of our joint human experience.”
As evening turned into morning, they found that the portal had returned. Johann exclaimed with sadness in his voice, “I think it beckons me to travel even further into the future. Paul, won’t you join me on this adventure?”
“I’m sorry to say, I don’t think you will be able to travel further into the future. I’ve tried to do so myself on two occasions, and I’ve learned that time has only advanced to where we are today. You see, so many people believe that time is infinite and goes on forever in both directions, but time is also forging ahead, plowing like a drill through the dense nothingness. This is as far as it has got. So you can go to other time periods and hear other musicians, but you can’t go beyond this time period right now….I would suggest you back into the portal and return to the past. Keep backing until you reach your own time again.”
“Paul, thank you so much for your hospitality and your music. I hope we may meet again. When I get back to my time, I can’t wait to try out ideas from the future in my music, perhaps to use my music as one stream, Beethoven’s ideas in another stream, and you ideas in a third stream to create a new, three-part counterpoint.”
“Johann, don’t do that! It’s important that you NOT do that!” But Johann had already backed into the portal.
