Brilliant Cover Songs #3: Loredano Oliva’s “Canon in D Major” (for Harmonica)

I always keep two questions in mind when I broach the idea of adding to the 600+ posts I’ve navigated through in the nearly 12 years of this blog’s existence. 1) Do I have anything new to say on this topic? 2) If I’m saying something old, can I say it in a new and fresh way?

I try to apply those two questions to virtually every creative work I engage with in my life, whether my own or someone else’s. It applies even to the occasional light and frivolous fare that a given mood or energy level will call forth as a momentary bulwark against the world’s relentless available diet of misery.

In this third iteration of “Brilliant Cover Songs,” we broach an old warhorse that you’ll hear get a whole new twist down below.

Johann Pachelbel composed his much-beloved “Canon in D Major” to a warm but not wildly popular welcome sometime in the late 17th or early 18th centuries. After which it languished mostly in obscurity for a couple of more centuries. The composition then gained some traction in the 1970s courtesy of a widespread Baroque music revival (think Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”).

And that was just the beginning.

In 1980, Robert Redford made Pachelbel’s “Canon…”  the musical centerpiece of his film directing debut in “Ordinary People,” an almost unbearably grim family drama that nevertheless inspired the wildly popular welcome the composition missed some three centuries before. The piece soon became the wedding processional of choice for seemingly every other marrying couple in the western world, as well as a welcome backdrop for modern music listeners looking to expand their musical tastes with some easily digestible classical fare.

It has always been easy to hear why, and it will be made even easier below.

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Loredano Oliva

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A “canon” is a counterpoint-based musical form that lays down an initial melody and then, after an interval of the composer’s choosing, it is imitated by other instruments or voices—either exactly like the first or with minor variations. The simplest type of canon is a round, in the style of “Row Row Row Your Boat” and “Frere Jacques.”

Pachelbel’s “Canon” melody repeats over and over, effecting an immediately dreamy, almost hypnotic mood in the listener before opening up rapturously to what many describe as a transformative, transporting music of the spheres.

A half-dozen representative comments from the 2,208 left on one You Tube comment stream on the piece, these right off the first page:

“PACHELBEL NEVER DIES.”

“Pachelbel stated that it wasn’t his work, that something from Heaven flowed through his heart, and he merely wrote the notes. It is indeed from another realm.”

“350 years and still one of the most beautiful things in existence.”

“I am a widower, my wife walked down the aisle to this. I smile in my head as a tear rolls down my face remembering the happiest day of our time together. Thank you.”

“Nothing makes me cry….but this song makes me cry. It cleanses my soul.”

“This has been my absolute favorite piece for 74 years. I’m 80 now.”

But such adoration and near ubiquitous presence as a classical music staple over the most recent half-century cannot help but inspire a backlash. One could imagine some wedding invitees fleeing the country rather than submitting themselves to one more “Pachelbel,” whose identification with his “Canon in D” is so powerful by now that his name is usually used interchangeably with the piece itself.

But then along comes someone like Loredano Oliva, lifting his trusty Suzuki harmonica to his lips and pouring forth such a hearty but unexpected version that an old favorite is made new again, in the very best tradition of the very best cover songs.

Let’s give it a listen now before wrapping up with a few more comments and a couple of bonus tracks below.

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Oliva has carved out a niche for himself with a You Tube channel that features a dozen or so videos with the same high production values seen above. Mostly classical, along with some light pop fare (Paul Simon, Ed Sheeran). He undergirds his work with some keyboard and rhythm support, but his harmonica ranges far and wide across the musical spectrum, showcasing its power to soar just as high as any given composition will allow.

There’s an almost indefinable texture to Oliva’s sound, a lyricism that takes one to a happy place without one word needing expression. Wanting to perhaps glean some insight into his approach, one quickly finds just how scarce he makes himself aside from his You Tube channel and two albums produced on his own label.

“All Classic for harmonica, Vol. 1,” is an an all-Bach affair, while the same title with a “Vol. 2” attached features nine different classical and impressionist composers.

Otherwise, nothing. Not an interview nor concert date nor social media presence to his name—at least that I could find. Given his name and the backdrop of his videos, I’m going to assume he’s European, but that’s as far as I dare take it.

So we shall leave it as such, as he seems to prefer, the music standing by itself, which, in the end, it always must, and must be enough.

But for good measure, here are two more classics for whatever roads you find yourself on as this Thanksgiving weekend draws to a close.

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Oliva photo taken from You Tube video screenshot