Tension and Release Part 2 of 2

Sexual connotations are abundantly expressed in classical music, but they are often more subtle to the casual listener’s ear than sexual suggestions in more contemporary music genres. In contrast to the graphic lyrical or physical imitation of sex in popular music, classical music employs the basic pattern of tension and release, arousal and relief created through the use of musical elements such as imitation, timbre, intensity, rhythm and register.

An excellent example of the representation of desire, arousal, and sexual tension in classical music is “Dance of the Seven Veils,” in Richard Strauss’ opera, Salome.  Based on Oscar Wilde’s play, the opera is the Biblical story of spurned love, incestuous arousal and murder. Stepdaughter of Herod Antipas, Salome becomes enamored of John the Baptist.  The prophet spurns her, and in a fit of pique, Salome determines to have him murdered.  Salome performs an erotic striptease for her stepfather at a palace banquet, and he grants Salome her wish. Tympani and brass begin the dance with a fanfare that foreshadows the lust and desire that the dance will provoke in Herod.  Violins, oboes and flutes seemingly tease and caress sensual phrases out of the night air.  Quick, light descents down scales imitate the one-by-one removal and falling away of silken veils, revealing more and more of Salome and increasing Herod’s desire. Triangle, castanets and finger cymbals provide exotic color for the erotic dance.  Heavy, engorged horn leitmotifs sound occasionally and imply the affect the dance is having on the concupiscent king.  Rhythm and intensity wax and wane during the course of the dance, increasing the tension and imitating the king’s craving for the relief that is just out of reach as Salome tantalizes Herod.  At last, the final veil is removed, and percussion and horns explode in energetic frenzy as the music rises in crescendo and at last, peaks.  Release of the king’s distended desire is imitated and symbolized by the brief, oboe and flute duet, which holds the listener’s ear in splendid relief until a concluding orchestral exhalation of satisfaction. 

I wonder if those wishing to protect America against what they considered lewd in popular music in the eighties would have sought a “Parental Advisory” label on Strauss’ work if they had understood the vocabulary of classical music?

Tension and Release Part 1 of 2

In 1984, some “nattering nabobs of negatism,” to re-purpose the Spiro Agnew/William Safire phrase, believed that one of the reasons America was going to hell in a handbag was the depiction of sex or sexual acts in popular music.  Perhaps they thought enough is enough, but sex in popular music had been with us for some time, maybe just not as overtly depicted as the song that incited the outrage, “Darling Nikki,” and the lyrics, "I knew a girl named Nikki/I guess you could say she was a sex fiend/I met her in a hotel lobby/Masturbating with a magazine.” How many or how few sexual references are heard in music depends on the vocabulary employed and whether the listener understands the vocabulary.  Surely, Elvis’ pelvic thrusts and hip gyrations as he sang “Burning Love,” or “All Shook Up,” didn’t leave much to the imagination.  What else did Marvin Gaye mean when he sang, “Ohh baby, I’m hot just like an oven/I need some lovin’/And baby, I can’t hold it much longer/It’s getting stronger and stronger,” in his hit “Sexual Healing” of 1982.  Sometimes the vocabulary is less obvious; sexual depictions are not always so “naked.”  Dusty Springfield’s breathy and coolly understated interpretation of Bacharach and David’s “The Look of Love,” or June Christy’s soft, husky delivery on “Shoo Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy,” (giving new meaning to the phrase “I never get enough of that wonderful stuff”) are examples more nuanced references to sexuality.