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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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
After having just finished adorning the inside and outside of our home with all things Christmas, I took a long winter’s nap, awoke just a few minutes ago and read your blog “Loredano Oliva’s “Canon in D Major” for Harmonica. (I assume he’s no relation to the Twins’ Tony.) I then marched into the study, found my Christmas light remote controller, pressed its button, and, unlike Chevy Chase’s mini-disaster in “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation”, mine burst forth without a hitch. I’m now sitting in my chair, admiring my hard work, as well as that of my neighbors, and listening to Pachelbel, Ravel and Puccini. Interesting musical choices to accompany your words: a plate of Baroque counterpoint well worth the wait, a French impressionistic orchestral dish seasoned with Spanish herbs, and a Neapolitan aria stuffed with lamentation like chocolate and cheese in a cannoli. (I think I’m getting hungry). A few words about Oliva before I hit the Turkey leftovers.
Partnering a harmonica with counterpoint in Pachelbel’s “Canon” isn’t an easy chore, but Oliva manages to take it from the “ordinary” (Donald Sutherland RIP) and move it into the unique. He deftly partners the keyboard with the harmonica, and a solid marriage ensues.
Oliva couldn’t have chosen a better piece than Maurice Ravel’s “Bolero” to highlight the harmonica as an instrument. “Bolero” is all about instrumentation. Leonard Bernstein considered it to be the greatest teaching tool in understanding the ABCs of orchestration. Its single melodic line and steady beat provide the perfect breeding ground to show off an instrument’s beauty. Oliva’s range on the harmonica is brilliant. Ravel should have included the harmonica as one of the instruments in his premier of Bolero nearly a century ago. Finally, a harmonica dating one of Puccini’s most gorgeous arias under any reasoned logic would go nowhere. Kinda like the homecoming queen choosing a physics nerd over the star QB. Once again, he works his magic. Even Maria Callas would applaud. Incidentally, Zachary Scott’s column on Puccini in today’s New York Times is well worth the few minutes it takes to read it, Puccini died 100 years ago yesterday.
Now on to my fork, spoon, knife and microwave.
Robert, I should’ve floated a draft of this by you so you could respond and I could have stolen a few of your lines before you knew what hit you. What was that line from T.S. Eliot, wait, let me look it up…”Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal…” Think I’ll place myself in that latter category so I can steal a few of yours next time I find myself in a conversation about Pachelbel & his beloved “Canon…” !!!
Just for info. Of course, John Sebastain is a virtuoso on the harmonica (rock and blues). His father was one of the great classical harmonica players. Some consider him the most gifted.
It’s one of those afternoons that was heading into a “woe-is-me” symphony of complaints about all the aches, pains, and life tensions/anxieties that sometimes edge into an otherwise blessed aging life. And then I opened this blog and listened to Oliva’s harmonica rendering of Pachelbel’s Canon, accompanied by the beautiful images of countryside and ruins that took me back to my years living in Southern France. And then, Voila!, my petty focus on aches, pains and life headaches vanished; almost as though I was suddenly joining Robert in what sounds like a peaceful and content Christmas season scene that appears to have brought him a measure of serenity. Many thanks for helping to transport me out of my self-inflicted funk with this beautiful reflection and for the introduction to Oliva.
Music has been known to do all that and more, Jay! Glad to be of service!