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Richard Strauss in 1922: A boor and a timeserver in life, but never a boor in his music

Music aside, the man was a self-indulgent boor, his life a string of platitudes. How the universal sound worlds of Salome and the Four Last Songs can have arisen from so dreary a human source is an unfathomable mystery of creation. 

Unless, that is, we require all authors of great work to manifest an equivalent greatness, to be in some way larger and more colourful than their humdrum lives — the mindset that, in a highly acclaimed recent biography, prompts John Eliot Gardiner to ascribe failings of "what we would call anger management" to Johann Sebastian Bach, a bias of blame that aims both to elevate and to humanise an incomprehensible ideal.

Richard Strauss was no raging Bach. Search his long life end to end, 1864 to 1949, and you will find no flare of passion, no situation in which he ever lost urbane control of his stolid Bavarian manners. The son of a Munich orchestral horn player and a brewery heiress (his father, who played in Wagner premieres, must have thought he'd wedded Valhalla), the young Richard never had a formal music lesson, relying on a familiarity with the family craft to compose pieces of precocious sheen, catchy themes and narrative thrust. He knew the limits of what an audience would bear.

He was 24 when Don Juan was performed at Weimar, the first in a series of fashionable tone poems with graphic titles-"Death and Transfiguration", "Till Eulenspiegel's Jolly Pranks", "Thus Spake Zarathustra", "Don Quixote", "A Hero's Life". Strauss at this stage aimed for feminine fantasies, the beer garden, the numinous and the Nietzschean. He was nothing if not eclectic, always market-oriented.

As a conductor in Weimar, he led the first production of Humperdinck's Hansel and Gretel, a Wagnerian opera for terrorised children. At 30 he married Pauline, a general's soprano daughter and at 34 he became chief conductor at the court opera in Berlin, sharing with Gustav Mahler in Vienna a dominance of the German-speaking opera stage.

But where the excitable Mahler imagined that he and Strauss were allies, "like two miners tunnelling a mountain from opposite sides, destined to meet in the middle", Strauss shared few of his friend's progressive ideals. Where Mahler put his job on the line in a bid to stage salacious Salome, Strauss played safe with his programming. Where Mahler ended an opera in migraine-stricken exhaustion, Strauss declared that a conductor who broke sweat was no better than an amateur. Where Mahler saw redemption in art, Strauss said: "I don't know what I am supposed to be redeemed from. When I sit at my desk in the morning and an idea comes into my head, I surely don't need redemption. What did Mahler mean?"

A man of regular habits, guarded by a dragon wife, Strauss's ambitions were social and pecuniary. Of the striptease dance in Salome, scandalous as much for its heresy as its nudity, he would say, blithely, "The damage built me a house in Garmisch." Behind the opera's notoriety, he stretched tonality almost to snapping point in a climactic, clashing F chord. For a brief moment, he led the avant-garde. In 1909, he toyed again with dissonance in Elektra, the first of five joint ventures with the poet Hugo von Hofmannstal, only to retreat in Der Rosenkavalier to the deep, deep comfort of lush harmonies, replacing the dangerous pathologies of his two previous operas with a nudge-wink sexual suggestiveness.

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Reish Lakish
March 31st, 2014
5:03 PM
great piece, both provocative and convincing.

Charles Z.
March 31st, 2014
4:03 PM
Genius has nothing to do with morality. Strauss was a musical genius who happened to be a mediocre time-server morally. Give him his due: he was unobjectionable compared with Wagner, Caravaggio, Villon and even Picasso, who walked all over his women.

Elizabeth Moon
March 31st, 2014
4:03 PM
Re David Wilson's comment, my take is that Strauss's mother, as a brewery heiress, probably was quite wealthy. In marrying her, Strauss's father was no longer an impecunious musician--in contrast to Wagner, who was constantly dodging creditors. That's what I'm guessing was meant by the "Valhalla" reference--the Strauss family's wealth.

John Borstlap
March 31st, 2014
1:03 PM
As far as I know, Strauss lost his fortune twice: in WW I and in WW II, and suffered greatly from it. Indeed there is a mystery there of the difference between the artist and the works, as with Wagner and Beethoven. But that mystery seems different, at least on the human level, if we speculate that these artists 'receive' their ideas and imaginative experiences from 'outside'. The oldfashioned idea of 'inspiration', something that is 'breathed into' the artist, who functions as a midwife rather than the ultimate creator, explains this difference better than anything else. Strauss gives the impression of a personality spoiled from the beginning, and thus never developed a personality up to the level of his receptivity. But he learned at the end of his life and acquired the emotional depth he had been lacking often in the past. His Rosenkavalier is, in this article, unjustly seen as 'conventional'. It is a brilliant re-interpretation of tradition, without any orthodoxy, and full of stilistic inconsistencies, but there are marvellous episodes in it which show emotional depth and understanding, like the scene at the end of act I where the Feldmarschallin reflects upon the passing of time, and the entire dialogue with Octavian with its superb mixture of melancholy, resignation and delicate acceptance, beautifully reflected in the music. He had an incredible capacity of entering the inner emotional world of his operatic characters, like the musical depiction of Johanaan in Salome, combining powerful greatness with utter instability (the first fully-exposed theme upon him being led out of the cisterne). It seems that Strauss paid dearly for his achievements, as is often the case with artists.

David J Wilson
March 31st, 2014
9:03 AM
I'd be grateful if you would explain what you meant by saying that Strauss "must have thought he'd wedded Valhalla."

Bob Rosen
March 31st, 2014
4:03 AM
Interesting piece by Lebrecht on Strauss. Real love Strauss' writing. Who knew he was such a boor?

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