atomicpoet on Nostr: I just went deep down a rabbit hole—deep. Imagine stumbling upon an alternative ...
I just went deep down a rabbit hole—deep. Imagine stumbling upon an alternative musical history.
Yesterday, I discovered an American composer named Ernst Bacon. A little background on him: during his lifetime, he was a pretty big deal. He won a Pulitzer Prize and three Guggenheim fellowships. But he was also a bit of an odd duck.
Ernst came from this quasi-German tradition. His mother was an Austrian upper-middle-class woman, wealthy and cultured, while his father was a Midwesterner. His mother, though, was the one who gave him his musical education—she taught him everything. Ernst eventually went to Germany and Austria to immerse himself in the German Romantic classical tradition.
(Quick sidenote: I know some classical music purists out there might take issue with me using “classical” as a blanket term here. Technically, “classical” refers to a specific time period, but for most people, it’s shorthand for a broader Western tradition of non-popular music. That’s the sense I’m using here.)
Anyway, for much of his early life, Ernst was steeped in German Romanticism. He even wrote music in German and spoke it fluently. But Ernst lived through two world wars, and as you might imagine, Germany wasn’t exactly popular with Americans during those times. At a certain point, Ernst decided to pivot. He became a proud, patriotic American and wanted nothing to do with Europe anymore—not its languages, not its traditions. He was determined to create music that was as American as possible.
Here’s where it gets interesting. Unlike other great American composers, Ernst Bacon had zero interest in popular music. He didn’t care about Tin Pan Alley, the blues, or even jazz. He hated rock and roll—he thought it was an invitation to crime. Compare that to composers like Gershwin, who infused jazz and blues into his work (think Rhapsody in Blue), or Leonard Bernstein, who blended classical with show tunes (West Side Story). Even Frank Zappa, best known as a rock musician, wrote classical works that are increasingly respected today. Ernst Bacon wanted none of that.
Instead, his idea of an “American idiom” came from folk music—Appalachian ballads, African American spirituals, and New England songs. His biggest musical influences? Poet Carl Sandburg and Roland Hayes, an African American tenor famous for performing classical music and recording spirituals. Ernst also drew inspiration from American poetry. He composed about 50–60 songs based on Emily Dickinson’s poems and others inspired by Walt Whitman.
When you listen to his music—particularly his Emily Dickinson songs—it’s this strange fusion. It’s like American folk music colliding with German Romanticism. And though Ernst worked hard to distance himself from that German tradition, he couldn’t quite escape it. A duck will always be a duck, you know? He grew up in that world, so his music is still tinged with it.
It’s wild to listen to because it feels like an alternate reality—a version of American music where blues, jazz, and rock never took off. His work has this impressionistic quality, especially the piano parts. It’s like he’s dabbing with musical paintbrushes. But there’s no blue note, no raw aggression, no edge.
I’m not sure if I like his music. His Emily Dickinson songs are…fine, sung in an almost operatic style. But the piano feels oddly impressionistic. If you’re not American, I imagine hearing it would be even stranger—it doesn’t sound like what you’d expect American music to be.
Still, it’s fascinating in its own way. If you’re curious about an alternative history of American music, Ernst Bacon is worth exploring.
https://youtu.be/ENv-eIo8DPQ
Yesterday, I discovered an American composer named Ernst Bacon. A little background on him: during his lifetime, he was a pretty big deal. He won a Pulitzer Prize and three Guggenheim fellowships. But he was also a bit of an odd duck.
Ernst came from this quasi-German tradition. His mother was an Austrian upper-middle-class woman, wealthy and cultured, while his father was a Midwesterner. His mother, though, was the one who gave him his musical education—she taught him everything. Ernst eventually went to Germany and Austria to immerse himself in the German Romantic classical tradition.
(Quick sidenote: I know some classical music purists out there might take issue with me using “classical” as a blanket term here. Technically, “classical” refers to a specific time period, but for most people, it’s shorthand for a broader Western tradition of non-popular music. That’s the sense I’m using here.)
Anyway, for much of his early life, Ernst was steeped in German Romanticism. He even wrote music in German and spoke it fluently. But Ernst lived through two world wars, and as you might imagine, Germany wasn’t exactly popular with Americans during those times. At a certain point, Ernst decided to pivot. He became a proud, patriotic American and wanted nothing to do with Europe anymore—not its languages, not its traditions. He was determined to create music that was as American as possible.
Here’s where it gets interesting. Unlike other great American composers, Ernst Bacon had zero interest in popular music. He didn’t care about Tin Pan Alley, the blues, or even jazz. He hated rock and roll—he thought it was an invitation to crime. Compare that to composers like Gershwin, who infused jazz and blues into his work (think Rhapsody in Blue), or Leonard Bernstein, who blended classical with show tunes (West Side Story). Even Frank Zappa, best known as a rock musician, wrote classical works that are increasingly respected today. Ernst Bacon wanted none of that.
Instead, his idea of an “American idiom” came from folk music—Appalachian ballads, African American spirituals, and New England songs. His biggest musical influences? Poet Carl Sandburg and Roland Hayes, an African American tenor famous for performing classical music and recording spirituals. Ernst also drew inspiration from American poetry. He composed about 50–60 songs based on Emily Dickinson’s poems and others inspired by Walt Whitman.
When you listen to his music—particularly his Emily Dickinson songs—it’s this strange fusion. It’s like American folk music colliding with German Romanticism. And though Ernst worked hard to distance himself from that German tradition, he couldn’t quite escape it. A duck will always be a duck, you know? He grew up in that world, so his music is still tinged with it.
It’s wild to listen to because it feels like an alternate reality—a version of American music where blues, jazz, and rock never took off. His work has this impressionistic quality, especially the piano parts. It’s like he’s dabbing with musical paintbrushes. But there’s no blue note, no raw aggression, no edge.
I’m not sure if I like his music. His Emily Dickinson songs are…fine, sung in an almost operatic style. But the piano feels oddly impressionistic. If you’re not American, I imagine hearing it would be even stranger—it doesn’t sound like what you’d expect American music to be.
Still, it’s fascinating in its own way. If you’re curious about an alternative history of American music, Ernst Bacon is worth exploring.
https://youtu.be/ENv-eIo8DPQ