Hobart and William Smith Colleges

T-minus 2 months: The Sun in Music

It is roughly 2 months until the total solar eclipse in Geneva! Let’s talk about the music that is inspired by the Sun through this collaborative article written by Associate Professor of Physics Leslie Hebb and Associate Professor of Music Katherine Walker. 

What does music have to do with the Sun? The answer, it turns out, goes far beyond George Harrison and Bill Withers. In the ancient world, for example, the relationship between music and astronomy was literal and direct. Scientists and philosophers in ancient Greece and Rome conceived of the movements of the Sun, along with the moon and the planets as a type of inaudible music, which they referred to as Music of the Spheres. Generations later, the sixth century philosopher Boethius refined these ideas into a tripartite system where three interconnected types of music govern the workings of the universe: Musica Humana, which oversees the movements of the Sun and planets; Musica Mundana, which rules the inner workings of the human body, and Musica Instrumentalis, which is audible music as we know it. For Boethius, these different types of music are all governed by elegant mathematical principles.

However, the twins of music and astronomy were separated definitively in the age of reason, just as (some would argue) the representational value of the Sun came to full expression in music. Whether you prefer the rising sun in Haydn’s Creation oratorio or the Beatles, “Here Comes the Sun,” consider the unique place of the Sun in the realm of aesthetics: In 1757 Scottish philosopher, Edmund Burke, won a prize for his freshman monologue, …Of the Sublime and the Beautiful. Burke drew on ancient philosophy to define and delimit these two aesthetic categories: the sublime, the domain of the magnificent, the awesome, the dangerous, and even foreboding; and the beautiful, the realm of light, clarity, and symmetry. Where does the Sun belong in this ancient categorization? Is it a friendly, warming orb? Or an immense ball of flaming gas? Music provides evidence of both answers: Richard Strauss’s 1915 Alpine Symphony, Op. 64, employs one of the largest orchestral ensembles to date and leans into the bright, metallic brass instruments to depict the sun’s quotidian arrival in all its sublimity.

Similarly, Ferde Grofé’s Grand Canyon Suite, whose outer movements are called “Sunrise” and “Sunset” builds from a realm of mystery and darkness—through intermittent “shards” of light—to an astounding climax awash in furious scalar runs of bright brass instruments. By contrast, Max Richter’s On the Nature of Daylight, offers a minimalist and reflective commentary on the Sun. This peaceful, melodious and pleasantly repetitive work projects an image of the Sun as a source of calm and hope. Numerous popular songs confirm this characterization: The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun” suggests that the hope and light of a new day will make everything “alright”; Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone” associates the absence of the singer’s love with the absence of the Sun’s light and warmth. Far from foreboding, the sunshine in these songs can be tied to the aesthetic realm of the beautiful. How does the Sun feature in your favorite music?

Listen to some of these works here:

An Alpine Symphony, Op. 64: II. Sunrise

 

Grofé, Grand Canyon Suite: I. Sunrise

(We encourage you to listen to the entire movement, but if you want to skip to the apex, begin at the 4-minute mark; the sun arrives in all its glory at 4 minutes 43 seconds)

 

Max Richter, On the Nature of Daylight.

There is no apex per se in this somber and reflective piece. Listen to some or all of it.

Stay tuned for more about the Sun as the total solar eclipse in Geneva, N.Y. approaches!