Classical music has a reputation for being altogether too serious. Itâs an often-repeated clichĂ© based on the great fear of being locked in a concert hall for several hours without the use of mobile phones. Granted, classical composers didnât make it all that easy on audiences by giving pieces rather bland and generic titles. There is yet another âSymphony No. 64 in F major,â or a âSonata for piano and violin No. 3.â Nothing, it turns out, is as threatening as the anticipation of having to sit around without knowing what is going on or what is being expressed. But once you dig below the seemingly austere surface of classical music, youâll find that even the most highly esteemed composers are prone to occasional attacks of humor.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: âLeck mich im Arschâ (Kiss my ass), K. 231
I started a little search, and here are 10 of the most hilarious titles in classical music, starting with Mozartâs famous canon âKiss my ass.â It was probably written as a party piece, and the text was later sanitized by publishers, but Mozartâs hilarious original message is unmistakable.
Erik Satie: Embryons desséchés (Desiccated embryos)
It didnât take me long to find the king of hilarious titles in Erik Satie (1866-1925). He had nothing but contempt for tradition, a deliciously rye humor, and complete loyalty to the absurd. He invented so-called furniture music, a kind of background not to be listened to consciously. A close friend and collaborator wrote, âSatie is extraordinary. He is a mischievous and cunning old artist. At least, thatâs how he thinks of himself.â His irreverence for convention and eccentricity is probably best demonstrated in his short piano pieces with evocative titles like âThree Boneless Preludes for a Dog,â or âEmbryons dessĂ©chĂ©sâ (Desiccated embryos). While the title is hilarious, the three little movements lasting about two or three minutes to play, have additional subtitles. The first is called âDesiccated embryo of a Holothurian,â basically a sea cucumber, a creature without eyes. The second features the âDesiccated embryo of an Edriophthalma,â a crustacean with immobile eyes, and the concluding movement carries the title âDesiccated embryo of a Podophthalma,â a stalk-eyed crustacean like a crab or lobster.
And to make sure the pianist knows how to approach these morsels of irreverence, Satie tells them to play it âlike a nightingale with toothache.â
Erik Satie: Embryons desseches (Klåra Körmendi, piano)
Paul Hindemith: Overture to the Flying Dutchman
I am not sure you have ever heard of the German composer, music theorist violist, and conductor Paul Hindemith (1895-1963). But if you have, you probably know that he was a major advocate of a musical style called âNew Objectivity,â and âMusic for Use,â which advocated composition intended to have a social or political purpose. You might also know that he wrote in a complex modernist polyphonic style. You might not know, however, that Hindemith had a wicked sense of humor. In 1925, Hindemith composed a string quartet with the title âOverture to the Flying Dutchman,â making an obvious reference to the opera by Richard Wagner. Nothing hilarious about the title so far, but you only need to read the subtitle to understand this musical parody. The Overture is supposed to be âsight-read by a bad Spa Orchestra at 7 in the morning by the well.â Wagnerâs music is completely mangled and includes errors in the playing of the tune, rhythmic imprecations, and all kinds of interpretative deficiencies. A critic writes, âit is not clear whether Hindemith is satirizing Wagner, incompetent performers, ostentatiously dissonant composers, or the introduction of popular elements into serious music.â Whatever the case may be, it is decidedly hilarious.
George Bizet: Le docteur Miracle, âQuatuor de lâomeletteâ
Georges Bizet (1838-1875) composed his operetta Doctor Miracle when he was barely 18 years old for a competition organized by Jacques Offenbach. He did share the first prize with Charles Lecocq, and the premiere sounded on 9 April 1857 at ThĂ©Ăątre des Bouffes Parisiens in Paris. The story is set in Padua, and the major and his wife VĂ©ronique are woken by a noisy advertising campaign outside their house, proclaiming the talents of Doctor Miracle. Doctor Miracle is actually a young military officer who has fallen in love with the majorâs daughter Laurette. To gain access to the house, Silvio disguises himself as the servant Pasquin, and he boosts about his cooking talents. The mayor is delighted, and since it is time for breakfast, he invites Pasquin to prepare an omelet. This brings us to the hilariously funny âOmelette Quartet,â with Pasquin preparing the dish and everybody singing its praises. But once they actually taste it, they all start to choke, as it is disgusting. The mayor and his wife rush from the house to rinse their mouths, which gives Laurette and Silvio time to sing a tender love duet.
Georges Bizet: Le docteur Miracle – Scene 7: Quatuor de l’omelette: Voici l’omelette! (Jerome Billy, tenor; Isabelle Druet, mezzo-soprano; Pierre-Yves Pruvot, baritone; Marie-Benedicte Souquet, soprano; Orchestre Lyrique de Region Avignon Provence; Samuel Jean, cond.)
Franz Reizenstein: Concerto populare, âA piano concerto to end all piano concertosâ
Have you ever heard of the âPiano concerto to end all piano concertos?â Thatâs the subtitle of the âConcerto Popolareâ by Franz Reizenstein (1911-1968), a student of Paul Hindemith. The premise of the composition is fairly simple. The orchestra believes that they are playing Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto, while the pianist is convinced that the Piano Concerto by Grieg is on the program. It all turns into a funny battle between musical forces, with both sides trying to figure out what is actually going on. Becoming increasingly unsure, other themes creep into the compositions. You will immediately recognize the Rhapsody in Blue, the Warsaw Concerto and the song âRoll out the Barrel.â The Australian pianist Eileen Joyce was invited to perform the premiere, but she declined. As such, the first performance featured the renowned actress Yvonne Arnaud as the soloist. If this kind of parody is to your liking, you might also want to have a listen to Reizensteinâs âLetâs Fake an Opera,â in which the libretto consists of âridiculously juxtaposed excerpts from more than forty operas.â The work was called âan insane collage of opera plots and themes.â
Dmitri Shostakovich: âTap-dancing Nosesâ
Without doubt, my favorite and one of the most hilariously funny titles for an opera comes courtesy of the Russian playwright Nikolai Gogol and composer Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975). It is called âThe Noseâ and tells the story of Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov who gets a shave in Yakovlevichâs barbershop. The very next morning, the barber discovers a human nose in a freshly baked loaf of bread, and when he throws the nose into the Neva River, he is observed by a police officer and taken in for questioning.
Kovalyov, meanwhile, awakes and discovers that his nose has disappeared. He rushes off to search for it, and he finds the noseânow the size of a human beingâsitting at prayer in the cathedral. He demands that the nose return to its proper size and place, but the nose refuses and escapes. The police are taking up the chase and are looking for the nose, and it is finally arrested at a train station and beaten back to its normal size. However, it still refuses to be reattached to Kovalyovâs face, who has a dreadful nightmare. As he awakes one morning, the nose is finally back in its rightful place and position. How is that for a hilarious title and story?
Lord Berners: âFuneral March for a Rich Auntâ
Gerald Hugh Tyrwhitt-Wilson (1883-1950) became the 14th holder of the Berners Barony, inheriting the title, property, and money from an uncle. Forthwith known as Lord Berners, he was notorious for his eccentricity, âdying pigeons at his house in vibrant colors.â He also kept paper flowers in the garden, and his house was adorned with joke notices. On the top of the stairs was a sign âNo dogs admitted,â and âPrepare to meet their Godâ painted inside a wardrobe. According to a houseguest, he used to paint his favorite horse, and put Woolworth pearl necklaces around his dogs called âHeber-Percyâ and âPansy Lamb.â He was actually visited by Igor Stravinsky, Salvador Dali, H.G. Wells, and Tom Driberg. In his Rolls-Royce automobile he kept a small clavichord keyboard, âwhich could be stored beneath the front seat.â Lord Berners was also a composer who declared, âI would have been a better composer if I had accepted fewer lunch invitations.â By now, you might not be surprised that Lord Berners came up with a number of funny titles, including âFuneral March for a Rich Aunt.â This piano miniature isnât remotely appropriate for a funeral as the composer is giddily counting the money from his inheritance.
Lord Berners: 3 Petites Marches funĂšbres (3 Little Funeral Marches) – No. 3. Pour une tante Ă hĂ©ritage (For a Wealthy Aunt) (Len Vorster, piano)
Robert Schumann: FantasiestĂŒcke, Op. 12, Nr. 3 âWhyâ
Robert Schumann (1810-1856) had a distinct passion for literature and poetry. Always deeply emotional, Schumann âviewed music as a way of expressing the inner working of his constantly shifting mind.â At once dreamy or agitated, he tried to find ways of fusing literary and musical imagery, and in the process came up with some rather evocative titles for his creations. We find such titles as âScenes from Childhood,â âButterflies,â âFairy Tales,â titles that are supposedly meant to draw the listener into his subtle world of color, mood, texture, and poetic allusion. My favorite Schumann title comes from his FantasiestĂŒcke Op. 12, a set of eight pieces for piano written in 1837. The overall title was inspired by various writings by E. T. A. Hoffmann, and the third piece in the series is simply entitled âWhy.â The piece starts with a gentle musical question and ends with an inconclusive answer. Well, why not?
Robert Schumann: FantasiestĂŒcke, Op. 12 – III. Warum? (Daniela Ruso, piano)
Luigi Russolo: âSerenata per intonarumoriâ (Sound box Serenade)
What could be nicer than listening to a serenade? Such calm and light pieces of music written for special occasions include the famous âEine Kleine Nachtmusikâ and other works by that title by Brahms, Beethoven, Berlioz, Schubert, Sibelius, and others. I am sure that listeners were in high anticipation of Luigi Russoloâs (1885-1947) âSerenata per intonarumori,â roughly translated as âSerenade for sound boxes.â Russolo actually built 27 varieties of these âsound boxes,â which produced a range of noises when operated by a handle. The instruments were completely acoustic, not electronic, and featured various types of internal construction to create different types of noise music. Insiders had probably already read Russoloâs manifesto The Art of Noises of 1913, which is frequently regarded as one of the first noise music treatises. Russolo proudly proclaimed, âthat the industrial revolution had given modern men a greater capacity to appreciate more complex sounds.â Sufficed to say, his âSound box Serenadeâ was not a hit. When it was performed at the âGran Concerto Futuristicoâ in 1917, audiences resorted to riotous violence to voice their disapproval. None of Russoloâs original âsound boxesâ have survived, but replicas have since been built and performed.
P.D.Q. Bach: The Short-Tempered Clavier
Parodies have been part of classical music ever since its very beginnings. And classical music is still subject to hilarious skits, courtesy, among others, by Professor Peter Schickele, an American composer, musical educator, and parodist. Schickele is probably better known as the musical persona P.D.Q. Bach. In this fictional biography, he is described âas Johann Sebastianâs last and least offspring.â The Bach family wanted nothing to do with him, and called him âa pimple on the face of music,â âthe most dangerous musician since Nero,â and âthe worst musician ever to have trod organ pedals.â P.D.Q claimed that his father never gave him training in music, but taking advantage of his famous name, he started writing music divided into three creative periods. âThe Initial Plunge,â âThe Soused Period,â and finally âContrition.â P.D.Q freely stole music from Haydn and Mozart, and as a great visionary, he anticipated the music of Beethoven and Jazz, and also the mannerisms of the emerging virtuoso culture. One of the funniest PDQ Bach creations, sporting yet another hilarious title is âThe Short-Tempered Clavier.â It is a collection of preludes and fugues in all the major and minor keys, âexcept for the really hard ones.â You will hear a fugue on chopsticks and the chimes of Big Ben, among countless others. How many tunes and allusions can you recognize?
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PS to my previous comment: What about Chabrier and Messager’s terrific four hand piano version of the Ring of the Nibelung? Fantasy en from de quadrille sur les themes favors de L”Anneau de Nibelung” de Richard Wagner????FUN!!!!!! to play and hear.
Wry humor, Methinks, for Satie