Respecting Nothing, Including Yourself

PETER ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY (1840-1893) gave the world some of its most beautiful music. He is widely regared as the culmination of the "romantic" period of classical music, and his melodies, if one is not careful, can rattle around in one's mind for days, if not weeks. The only criticism anyone has ever made of big Chy is that he was unable to do anything except write pretty melodies. This begs the question: What else should be expected of him? That he should have written music which was not beautiful to hear? That he should have turned his music into tests of technical instrumental virtuosity, like Chopin and Franz Liszt? Or that he should have abandoned all pretense at prettiness, and instead have waxed bombastic and melodramatic and angry, like Wagner? If we're lucky, we'll never know. Tchaikovsky had it coming though. No one has ever been more critical of other composers than Peter Ilyich. Johann Sebastion Bach was utterly devoid of talent. Franz Joesph Hayden was fourth rate. Johannes Brahams was a joke, a farce. But Mozaat! Ah, Mozart. Now there was a true genius. The musical equivalent of Christ himself, according to P.I.T.. This is no exaggeration, and Peter himself insisted it was no exaggeration; Tchaikovsky actually compared Mozart to Christ. The only difference, presumably, being that jesus Christ did not stagger through the streets of Salzburg and Vienna with a half empty wine bottle in his hand, nor did he vigorously pursue women regardless of their marital status, nor was he an inveterate show off, nor did Christ engage in a continuous dispute with his own father concerning his responsibilites to his family. Nor, of course, did christ offer the world christ-like musical compositions. Tchaikovsky, in all fairness, left nobody off his trash-list; he often termed his own music "rubbish". Well, Mr. T, the only rubbish in your neck of the woods was your own attitude about yourself, and about everyone except Mozart. If Mozart was the only person to ever render worthy compositions, then we must conclude that the muse of music was invested in a single person, out of the millions who have given it a whirl. Can you imagine what he would have said about Gerschwin or Copeland? As goethe said: "when one respects nothing, it is no trick to be brilliant."