09/14/2020
Moller, a philosophy professor, meticulously details his attempts at a long-held dream of playing Bach’s Fugue in C Minor, a desire that came over him “one night... like a sickness.” He dove into the task, but began suffering neurological problems and carpal tunnel syndrome in his arms and hands, then eventually adjusted his body to continue playing. Yet, when he heard himself recorded, he was taken aback to discover he was off tempo, and struck by ”the way hearing our own alien-sounding voice on a recording can be, or the way overhearing our friends talking about us can jolt us to our core.” The narrative weaves in and out of Moller’s struggles, while relating a history of Bach and his contemporaries, detailing Moller’s obsession with the composer through a dissection of Bach’s intricate notations, and contemplating the nature of genius and musical craftsmanship. Moller offers insight into what makes Bach’s style and execution so unique, and delves into Bach as a family man and conflicted composer. Rather than success in the end, he finds “there was a perverse, existential joy in having a fixed direction but no terminus.” Classical aficionados and students will applaud this sincere account of grappling with the greats. (Nov.)
"Moller’s encounter with Bach’s music faces him off with an entity as stubborn and searching as he is. In this confrontation, the piano becomes a tool of spiritual and physical struggle, a glorious contraption that elicits from its player philosophical reflections not just on music but on work, art, love, teaching, learning, God, humanity, life and death. Moller packs these and other big ideas into wisecracks and freewheelingly erudite comparisons and cultural references. He reveals much of himself while struggling with Bach’s fugues at the keyboard and away from it: stretches of frustration lead to epiphanies; musical setbacks and successes interlock in counterpoint both comic and profound. The intelligence and beauty of Bach’s works can never be fully explained, but Moller illuminates and inspires with his unique appreciation. We experience anew how this music can transform those unafraid of its intimate, yet far-reaching challenges."
Highly personal, beautifully written, hugely inspiring.
Intellectual rigor yielding pure musical art. Will move anyone seeking to grasp the power of music in human existence.
"A bright, honest, and refreshing reminder that the most worthy pursuits in life are not those that come easily, but those that come from painstaking craftmanship and devotion. Anyone who has ever pursued a passion will find joy in this story.”
11/01/2020
"I began to study Bach on the piano because I wanted to participate in the greatness of it, to become part of the music itself." And so Moller (philosophy, Univ. of Maryland) began the personal journey recounted here, one that he hopes might inspire the reader to embark on a similar quest and consider why Johann Sebastian Bach's music continues to resonate and what we can learn from it. He doesn't try to teach us how to play Bach's music; his aim is to share "the felt experience of an adult learning Bach." Moller does this through recollections of and reflections on his own experience at the keyboard and draws upon his own study of Bach's life and work, all with wit, humor, and absolutely no pedantry. Readers will appreciate the glossary of musical terms, a works cited list, and a playlist of the music referred to in the text (at danmoller.org). VERDICT For the serious music lover and anyone seeking answers to some essential questions about art and music.—Carolyn M. Mulac, Chicago
2020-09-01
A philosophy professor chronicles his determined efforts to play Bach despite carpal tunnel syndrome and a disdain for teachers.
In his first memoir, Moller writes from “the point of view of someone wholovesBach with a completely unprofessional, undetached abandon.” However, he doesn’t love all of Bach’s work—e.g., “consider the Brandenburg Concertos, which represent everything most appalling about the Baroque, the age of the gaudy golden frill….To begin with, the concertos are almost always performed with a harpsichord, which is intrinsically offensive.” He clearly “hates” the harpsichord, whereas the piano has a “timeless quality…that Bach deserved.” Moller is consistently opinionated (“The classical repertoire was full of pompous nose-blowers like Beethoven…or lightweights like Rossini”) as he leads us through his three stormy years wrestling with the piano, without proper instruction. His ultimate goal was to play the Fugue in C Minor. In this richly detailed book, the author gives us that story and more. Though Moller’s frequent opining occasionally grates, he presents a superb biographical vignette of a man who was “proud, bitter, and desperate for money.” He walks us through The Well-Tempered Clavier, The Goldberg Variations, and the “mesmerizing purity” of The Art of the Fugue, with commentary that is alternately scholarly and effusive. There’s an entertaining paean to the organ, “heavy metal before there was such a thing.” In an especially intriguing discussion, he sets the St Matthew Passion side by side with Wagner’s Ring cycle. “In the course of his anti-Semitic ravings,” writes the author, Wagner called Bach “a pedantic formalist who merely pointed the way to Beethoven and himself, the real geniuses.” When he set out on his journey, writes the author, “I would either play Bach or die trying.” Three years on, he’s alive and playing his fugue.
An eccentric, adoring tribute to Bach, suitable for classical music devotees and neophytes alike.