VV(3): "Ich fühle luft von anderem planeten..."

[The Great Quail]

"I feel the air of another planet," the first line of the poem set in 
Movement IV of Schoenberg's String Quartet No. 2.

There's a lot of importance attached to art and music in this 
chapter, with the critique of The Whole Sick Crew and the praising of 
McClintic Spehere. It may be notable that the Crew is listening to 
Arnold Schoenberg's complete string quartets -- truly the work of a 
modern revolutionary, a critical figure in twentieth century music.

For those of you that may be unfamiliar with Arnie and his quartets, 
these four works are quite amazing, each one a snapshot of 
Schoenberg's evolving style. The first is an edgy working of 
essentially traditional forms -- a classicist reaching for something 
new. In the 2nd Quartet, Schoenberg allows atonality a freer reign, 
creating an often disturbing and haunting quartet that includes a 
soprano role. (Two poems by Stefan George; one a weary plea for 
personal peace from the Divine, and the other a cry of transformation 
from the painful world to one of radiant splendor. This is my 
favorite quartet of the four. It was written during a time of great 
personal distress, and it shows.) The third quartet is written in his 
revolutionary 12-tone system (As Laurie Anderson would say, "This 
is... difficult listening hour...."), and his final quartet allows a 
more mellow brand of serialism by relaxing a bit to earlier roots.

I don't really think that *too* much can be read into Pynchon's use 
of Schoenberg; though his students, Berg and Webern, do play a small 
role in GR. I just think it's an interesting selection for the Crew 
to play all night long; one that complements the innovative genius of 
Spehere, and might highlight the lack of artistic vision present in 
the decadent Crew.

--Quail
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The Great Quail, Keeper of the Libyrinth:
http://www.TheModernWord.com

Do you want to see what human eyes have never seen? Look at the moon.
Do you want to hear what ears have never heard? Listen to the bird's cry.
Do you want to touch what hands have never touched? Touch the earth.
Verily I say that God is about to create the world.
       --J.L. Borges