Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 9, No. 1, 2010, Page 97
spirit over the temporal captivity of the body, the piece illustrates how captivity
paradoxically set free a work that became a testament to creativity…‖ (Rischin, p 6).
We could say that the subtext of all music is Time. It unfolds over time (unlike a painting,
for example). It metes out time in measured increments it divides and dissects time. The
detailed process of differentiating and partializing is an ego function. Father Time‘s way of
conceptualizing and dividing time lies in great contrast to the feminine Great Round that is
cyclical, non-linear time. ―The dual meaning of the title … rests not with the notion of the
interminability of captivity, but with the composer‘s desire to eliminate conventional notions
of musical time and of ‗past and future.‘‖ (Ibid., p. 52). Messiaen himself spoke this way:
Rhythm is, in essence, alteration and division. To study alteration and division
is to study Time. Time—measured, relative, physiological, psychological—is
divided in a thousand ways, of which the most immediate for us is a perpetual
conversion of the future into the past. In eternity, these things no longer
exist. (p 52)
Messiaen was able to take his long-standing relationship to psyche with him into prison.
Perhaps he was compelled to compose in order to feel the comfort and containment he had
always known when he encountered psychic energy. He wrote this piece of music not only
from a deep place in psyche, but about psyche about the all-inclusive sense of Time
without end, the cycle of birth-death repeating on into eternity. From this example, and that
which follows, one begins to see how a person‘s internal and external conditions can play a
part in restricting or enabling creativity.
In a recent interview on NPR, Marin Alsop, principal conductor of the Baltimore Symphony
Orchestra, mused about Beethoven‘s brilliance and its relationship to his physical condition.
How do we explain his ability (or imperative, really) to push music to places it had never
been? Alsop wonders if deafness might have resulted in a ―more extreme form of
creativity.‖ Did it perhaps compel him to ―take more chances‖? Arguably, as he grew more
and more deaf, his compositions grew more adventurous and more beautiful, even more
ethereal. Might he have been ―hearing on a level beyond normal? An imagined, heightened
hearing, all in his head?‖ Let us remember that ego is the function we use to relate to the
world. If we look at Alsop‘s musings through the language we have been exploring, we
would say that as Beethoven‘s relationship with the outer world became more and more
difficult, he climbed further and further in to psyche, to a deepening and expanding
relationship with himself. ―That he could not, with comfort, communicate with the outside
world, forced him to discover all that was within himself, to search the depths of his genius‖
(Rosenbaum, p. 8). And the Beethoven scholar Thayer writes, ―[w]ho can say that the world
has not been a gainer by a misfortune which stirred the profoundest depths of his being and
compelled the concentration of all his powers into one direction‖ (Thayer, p. 297). The
consciousness he attained, especially in creating his late work, was certainly not solely ego
consciousness.iv His creations broke classical rules, suspended right and wrong, demanded
that the container (form) be flexible and supple in short, burst through the surface,
sounding another kind of consciousness that lies deep within psyche.
There are aspects of these composers‘ stories that are similar to cult experience, and many
aspects that differ. Both were imprisoned—Messiaen from the outside, and Beethoven from
the inside. Beethoven grew increasingly isolated as his hearing declined. He writes:
I must confess that I lead a miserable life. For almost two years now I have
ceased to attend any social functions, just because I find it impossible to say
to people, I am deaf. If I had any other profession I might be able to cope
with my infirmity, but in my profession it is a terrible handicap. (Lockwood, p.
112)
spirit over the temporal captivity of the body, the piece illustrates how captivity
paradoxically set free a work that became a testament to creativity…‖ (Rischin, p 6).
We could say that the subtext of all music is Time. It unfolds over time (unlike a painting,
for example). It metes out time in measured increments it divides and dissects time. The
detailed process of differentiating and partializing is an ego function. Father Time‘s way of
conceptualizing and dividing time lies in great contrast to the feminine Great Round that is
cyclical, non-linear time. ―The dual meaning of the title … rests not with the notion of the
interminability of captivity, but with the composer‘s desire to eliminate conventional notions
of musical time and of ‗past and future.‘‖ (Ibid., p. 52). Messiaen himself spoke this way:
Rhythm is, in essence, alteration and division. To study alteration and division
is to study Time. Time—measured, relative, physiological, psychological—is
divided in a thousand ways, of which the most immediate for us is a perpetual
conversion of the future into the past. In eternity, these things no longer
exist. (p 52)
Messiaen was able to take his long-standing relationship to psyche with him into prison.
Perhaps he was compelled to compose in order to feel the comfort and containment he had
always known when he encountered psychic energy. He wrote this piece of music not only
from a deep place in psyche, but about psyche about the all-inclusive sense of Time
without end, the cycle of birth-death repeating on into eternity. From this example, and that
which follows, one begins to see how a person‘s internal and external conditions can play a
part in restricting or enabling creativity.
In a recent interview on NPR, Marin Alsop, principal conductor of the Baltimore Symphony
Orchestra, mused about Beethoven‘s brilliance and its relationship to his physical condition.
How do we explain his ability (or imperative, really) to push music to places it had never
been? Alsop wonders if deafness might have resulted in a ―more extreme form of
creativity.‖ Did it perhaps compel him to ―take more chances‖? Arguably, as he grew more
and more deaf, his compositions grew more adventurous and more beautiful, even more
ethereal. Might he have been ―hearing on a level beyond normal? An imagined, heightened
hearing, all in his head?‖ Let us remember that ego is the function we use to relate to the
world. If we look at Alsop‘s musings through the language we have been exploring, we
would say that as Beethoven‘s relationship with the outer world became more and more
difficult, he climbed further and further in to psyche, to a deepening and expanding
relationship with himself. ―That he could not, with comfort, communicate with the outside
world, forced him to discover all that was within himself, to search the depths of his genius‖
(Rosenbaum, p. 8). And the Beethoven scholar Thayer writes, ―[w]ho can say that the world
has not been a gainer by a misfortune which stirred the profoundest depths of his being and
compelled the concentration of all his powers into one direction‖ (Thayer, p. 297). The
consciousness he attained, especially in creating his late work, was certainly not solely ego
consciousness.iv His creations broke classical rules, suspended right and wrong, demanded
that the container (form) be flexible and supple in short, burst through the surface,
sounding another kind of consciousness that lies deep within psyche.
There are aspects of these composers‘ stories that are similar to cult experience, and many
aspects that differ. Both were imprisoned—Messiaen from the outside, and Beethoven from
the inside. Beethoven grew increasingly isolated as his hearing declined. He writes:
I must confess that I lead a miserable life. For almost two years now I have
ceased to attend any social functions, just because I find it impossible to say
to people, I am deaf. If I had any other profession I might be able to cope
with my infirmity, but in my profession it is a terrible handicap. (Lockwood, p.
112)
