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 who loves Bach 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.