Bulbul Rajagopal [Roll no. 09, PGII]

At first glance, the musical organ that features in Milton’s works, whether in description, reference or even in spirit by way of an imagined background score, can strike the reader as an entity which is revered by the poet. Discovery of the anecdote of the now famous organ at Tewkesbury Abbey upon which his fingers graced, will serve to reinforce this belief. But the truth lies far from this notion.

Playing the organ was a secret pleasure that Milton engaged in. Publicly, the act was derided by him, labelling it as a hindrance to time that can be spent in studious mental development. Even in his instruction to schoolboys (contained in an essay on education dated in 1644), organ playing was relegated only to those days when the pupils had their schedules packed with other extracurricular activities. Helen and Peter Williams’ article ‘Milton and Music; Or the Pandaemonic Organ’ states that in the 17th century, the English Puritans “acknowledged no arguments in favour of musical instruments in church.” Furthermore, the Dutch reasoned that the organ was Popish, unauthorised by the Gospel, and injurious to devotions. But the Dutch still saw its musical value and allowed for it to be played during secular recitals before and after the Services. Such tolerance in Amsterdam, for instance, was considered by John Evelyn to be due to organs being “carefully preserved from the fury and impiety of popular reformers, whose zeal has foolishly transported them in other places rather to act like madmen than religious.”

That the English were suspicious of the ability of the organ (often dubbed the King of Instruments) to serve the King of Heaven was testified in the English Ordinance of 1644 which called for “the speedy demolishing of all organs, images and all matters of superstitious monuments in all Cathedralls, and Collegiate or Parish-Churches and Chapels, throughout the Kingdom of England and the Dominion of Wales.”

This intolerance to organs was associated with Cromwellian Puritanism, of which Milton was an advocate. Desperate arguments were made by many, including sermon writers, to justify its presence in churches. From being presented as an instrument upon which God’s finger runs (as the musician in compositional frenzy was believed to be guided by the Holy Spirit) to a more utilitarian need of its music melodiously drowning out the chatter that pervades churches during and after Services, the cases for the organ were varied. But the people’s refusal to shell out money for this grandiosity even under the shade of religion revealed their true opinions.

So dubious was the organ’s reputation that due to Milton’s efforts the instrument gained the tag of ‘Pandaemonic’. Before the Catholic clergy had soured his attitude towards church music, the organ would feature in works like ‘The Nativity Ode’ and ‘Il Penseroso’ as a general symbol of heavenly music. The organ is thought  of here as filling out the idyllic picture of religious consolation necessary to those who reject

“vain deluding joys,

The brood of folly without father bred.”

(‘Il Penseroso’, ii. 1-2)

and wish to make music in the name of God. An analogy to such Miltonic reference to organs is provided by the word ‘Diapason’ which meant, outside organ-makers’ contracts, something very general: universal concent or ‘harmony pervading all’.

But over the next twenty years Milton’s tastes changed due to the rising vigour of Catholicism. The organ was now relegated in his works, most notably in his magnum opus Paradise Lost, to Satanic elements. Significantly, the organ tones of Milton can easily be imagined operating as the background score in the creation of Pandaemonium. The haunting majesty in this piece can misdirect readers precisely due to this auditory opulence. Even in the description of the creation and architecture of Pandaemonium–meaning “all demons”–the organ features explicitly. But in attaching it to the realm of Satan and his demonic army, Milton punishes the instrument with the label of grandiosity. Envisioned and stylised by Mammon, a fallen angel whose thoughts “were always downward bent, admiring more/The riches of Heav’ns pavement, trodden Gold,/Than aught divine or holy else…” (Book I, lines 681-683), Pandaemonium was a symbol of unnecessary wealth, a metaphor for unchecked cupidity. The first passing reference could be contained a lines later where the earth is compared to a human body upon which a wound is inflicted to bring out “ribs of gold” that would serve as Pandaemonic pillars. Ribs here, could also pertain to the ribs of the organ, often decked in gold and gaudy ornamentation; causing it to be accused of deflecting the congregation’s attention.

But the more explicit statement however is made from lines 706 where the fabric of Pandaemonium “Rose like an Exhalation”–likening it, with the employment of the epic simile to a note being produced in the musical organ by a gust of wind. Though a miraculous product, especially because it outdid every earthly architectural splendour and was created in the matter of an hour, the capital of Hell was presented with derision by Milton. It being the headquarters of rebel angels was one reason, but the Puritanical spirit of the poet shone in his elucidation of it as a symbol of vain splendour. That the organ was showcased in this lambasting is all the more telling.

The Satanic tinge that Milton gave to organ music would perhaps be vindicated approximately 300 years later, with the classic rock music germinating in the late 1960s. This new sound had created a paradigm shift in the 20th century, and there was hardly an arena of life which it left untouched. Religion was one of them. The relationship between rock music and religion are quite similar to that shared by its ancient predecessor and the clergy. Moreover, one of the base components that define rock music is the organ. If organ music time-traveled to the latter half of the 20th century to remain in popular memory as rock music, it also brought with it its Satanic repute, however diluted at the start. While the audience may have changed, the conservative reaction brought on by rock music is testament to the fact that the movement of history is cyclical and repetitive.

It is possible that Milton’s efforts to associate the organ with Pandaemonium had moulded mindsets for generations to come. Even if the credit cannot be solely given to him, Milton definitely played a vital role in the reading of music, especially new music, in relation to Christianity. If the organ’s placement in churches and Satanic coupling were the assumed sources of its distracting powers, then rock music was treated as alien for its newness of sound that was primarily electronic. The organ dividing Christians during the Renaissance could be akin to gospel rock as a musical strand of the genre, splitting modern-day church-goers into two camps, with one stating the other to be dangerously liberal, and being called foolishly orthodox in return.

The general cavalier behaviour of the band members who played rock music set the tone for what would come to be known as “the rock and roll lifestyle”–admired by many and equally the source of repulsion for an equal amount.

The negative reactions garnered by organ and rock musics were sociological: in order to make sense of their fear of an unknown phenomenon, it was justified to relegate them to the Hellish sphere.

A major feature in rock music was the presence of the tritone which added to its murky repute. The tritone is a restless interval, classed as a dissonance in Western music from the early Middle Ages through to the end of the common practice period. This interval was frequently avoided in medieval ecclesiastical singing because of its dissonant quality. From then until the end of the Renaissance the tritone was regarded as an unstable interval and rejected as a consonance by most theorists. Called so because it was composed of three whole steps, the tritone (because of the dissonance it created) was believed to be where the Devil existed in music. Thus, for centuries, it was known by its Latin name diabolus in musica which roughly translates to “the Devil’s interval”. Gerald Moshell, Professor of Music at Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut believes that “The reason it’s unsettling is that it’s ambiguous, unresolved. It wants to go somewhere. It wants to settle either here, or [there]. You don’t know where it’ll go, but it can’t stop where it is.”

There used to be rules against writing music that contained this interval. Moshell says that during the Renaissance, all music had one purpose: to be beautiful and express the majesty of God. Anything otherwise was studiously avoided. But once music was no longer shackled to the church, it was free to express all kinds of tension. The devil’s interval was ideal for that. Though in musical theory it was labelled as “tritone”, with its Satanic references the interval with its tripartite structure can also be perceived to mock the Holy Trinity.

Rock music, with its organ undertones, came to be seen as sinful for its loud nature that was aimed to disturb. Such an intent confused the older generations. They retorted with a frenzied aim of their own: to “save” their children and the youth from the clutches of the Devil in music. This is not to say that their fears were unfounded. There did exist rock bands who over time claimed to invoke the power of Satan to guide them in their musical quests. But rock purists were quick to disregard these as gimmicks. The intent of rock and roll was to subvert and hold the status quo up for questioning. The corrupt practices of the Church and the governments (of the UK and USA) were being held accountable through this new wave of music.

Black Sabbath was part of this initial tide that hit the musical world. Their guitar riffs created by Tommy Iommi, and the wild antics of frontman Ozzy Osbourne were hard to ignore. Church groups accused Sabbath of ripping apart the fabric of society as their influence was rapidly growing, giving rise to even newer rock bands. Televangelist Jimmy Swaggart rose to fame and then infamy as Osbourne’s “arch nemesis”, lampooning the band and the genre on American national television. But it was the band who ultimately came out less unscathed because Swaggart was revealed to have solicited from sex workers in spite of his conservative attitudes towards sex not ‘made holy’ by marriage. Sabbath, in turn, mocked him and the hypocrisy of the Church through the expository song of their album No Rest for the Wicked (1988) titled ‘Miracle Man’. Further retribution came in the form of the album reaching platinum standards worldwide.

An article titled ‘What is Wrong with Rock Music?’ elucidates common grievances a large part of the public held towards the genre. The answers are varied in that they are unfounded claims, with one even stating that “the Rock beat causes ‘switching’ to occur in the brain as it loses symmetry between left and right sides. This causes stress and it is as if a person’s body can no longer distinguish what is beneficial and what is harmful. The body actually chooses that which is destructive over that which is therapeutic. Turning down the volume won’t help. (Have you noticed the peace you feel from listening to the old hymns, isn’t present in rock?)”

Milton, too, presented the creation of organ music and revelling in it as a temptation preceded by sex and violence. In Book XI of Paradise Lost, Michael introduces the sinned and banished Adam to the plains outside Paradise. Before showing him the earth-bound, sin-prone quality of the ‘bevy of women’ and their amorous ditties, and the armourers who were busy with their art, Michael brings Adam to a scene of “rare inventors/Unmindful of their Maker” (lines 610-611), their activities “pleasant” but full “of wickedness”, nothing less than a scene

“whence the sound

Of instruments that made melodious chime

Was heard, of harp and organ, and who mov’d

Their stops and chords was seen; his volant touch

Instinct through all proportions low and high

Fled and pursu’d transverse the resonant fugue.”

(lines 558-63)

In this regard, Satan’s temptation of Eve can also be thought of in musical terms. He employs “his devilish art to reach/The organs of her fancy…” (Book IV, lines 801-802). The juxtaposition of ‘organ’ and ‘fancy’ is striking. It is also a characteristic pun of high intent, much more original as a phrase than the array of instruments that was to appear in the epic on the Seventh Day or Sabbath of Creation. The slew of instruments like the organ, the harp, the strings and the dulcimer were presented by the poet in the psalmist’s language as they were played during the day of rest not by mankind but by the angels. However, scholars like Helen and Peter Williams opine that the section of Book VII which contains this passage was probably written many years before the main composition of the poem, i.e., before 1653. In all likelihood, it was written in the early 1640s, “when Milton, freshly returned from Italy, sketched several plays including an Adam Unparadiz’d and before he had begun to see music as an unblessed siren.”

Returning to modern times, Osbourne would greet his fans during shows by throwing his hands in a raised-V finger formation–denoting the peace sign. In an oxymoronic fashion, it became a part of his wild image that was marked by substance abuse. The rest of the band in turn believed that the lead singer’s lifestyle was causing them–and the image of rock–more harm than good. Osbourne was finally switched out for Ronnie James Dio, and it was through him where rock even took on Satan, attempting subverting the initial subversion, to purify the image of rock. Dio (who would later go on to create his own self-titled band with the help of Sabbath’s Iommi) wanted to bring the original vigour with which the band performed, to their audience’s memory. Not wanting to steal Osbourne’s spotlight, Dio used another call-sign to connect with his audience. In his case, it was the finger formation of “throwing horns” which now synonymous to rock and roll as a genre.

The act of “throwing horns” was known in southern Italy as malocchio and it was practiced to ward off the evil eye. It became a custom in older Italian families to throw horns as a gesture of goodwill for the rest of their clan. When asked if he invented the hand movement for the subculture of heavy metal, Dio stated in his 2001 interview with the blog MetalRules.com: “That’s like saying I invented the wheel, I’m sure someone did that at some other point. I think you’d have to say that I made it fashionable. I used it so much and all the time and it had become my trademark until the Britney Spears audience decided to do it as well…I was in Sabbath at the time. It was a symbol that I thought was reflective of what that band was supposed to be all about. It’s not the devil’s sign like we’re here with the devil. It’s an Italian thing I got from my Grandmother called the “Malocchio”. It’s to ward off the Evil Eye or to give the Evil Eye, depending on which way you do it. It’s just a symbol but it had magical incantations and attitudes to it and I felt it worked very well with Sabbath. So I became very noted for it and then everybody else started to pick up on it and away it went. But I would never say I take credit for being the first to do it. I say because I did it so much that it became the symbol of rock and roll of some kind.”

But over time, “throwing horns” became so ingrained in the definition of rock as a genre that Dio’s contribution and the above clarifying statement were wiped from popular memory. With its ever-growing influence and new strands–each more different from the last–rock grew into an entanglement that could either be seen as a joyous chaos to unearth, or as something so unfamiliar the only rational response was to fear and abhor it. Thus, as the genre (especially heavy metal) garnered intense hatred from a wide (though not majoritarian) arena, the gesture of throwing horns was dubbed as an invocation of Satan.

However, while organ music and the genre of rock have connections in this manner, the two have even come together to align themselves with Milton himself. In fact, the connection to him in the postmodern world is more with rock music due to the efforts of David Gilmour of Pink Floyd but as a solo act. ‘Rattle that Lock’ is the title track on Gilmour’s 2015 solo album that is a tribute to Paradise Lost. With its lyrics and music video concept, Gilmour’s art also takes into account the quality of in medias res that is characteristic of Milton’s epic. Spanning Books I and II, Gilmour’s version shows the fall of Satan (known at the time as Lucifer Morningstar), followed by the creation of Pandaemonium, and finally his entry into and perversion of the mortal world.

The song’s lyrics, penned by his wife Polly Samson, open with:
“Whatever it takes to break

Got to do it

From the Burning Lake or the Eastern Gate

You’ll get through it.”

Following these are references to Sin and Chaos, furies, and “fallen angels in disguise”. To “rattle that lock, and lose those chains” is the instruction given to Satan by the voice in his head. Gilmour takes us into Satan’s mind, and the lyrics are presented as his monologue. Taking his cue from Paradise Lost, Gilmour presents to his audience the view of the world through Satan’s eyes alone. His decision to mete out revenge to God by attacking those He loves the most (humanity) is presented lyrically in these lines:
“So, let’s get to it

It’s calling like a flame

Through the darkness and the night

A world suspended on a golden chain

[Chorus 3]

No Discord, Chance or Rumour

Is going to interrupt this bliss.”

• 

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The homage to the epic does not end here. Gilmour and Samson extended it to the arena of the music video as well. Presented as Satan’s dreamscape, the illustrations that make up the video were inspired by Gustave Dore’s artwork on the fall and rise of Satan. They were created by  Alasdair & Jock from Trunk Animation, under the creative directorship of Aubrey Powell of Hipgnosis, the design group that created iconic images for Dark Side of the Moon, Atom Heart Mother, Wish You Were Here, Animals and other classic Pink Floyd records.

• 

Kind reviews of Gilmour’s work would state that Milton, had he listened and viewed the piece in its entirety, would have been appreciative. But given the historical state of this genre and the influence organ music had on it, this statement is only half true. Milton may have appreciated Dore’s art being brought to life, but there also remains the possibility that he might see rock music as a perversion on his laborious epic. Then again, given how the organ and the music it produced had been used as the vehicle to lambast Pandaemonium (the same can be said in reverse–that the Pandaemonic tag was given to the organ to punish it; the two go hand-in-hand), perhaps the modern  choice of rock music in relation to Satan–given its associations to the occult (something Milton would have not only despised, especially with the advent of ‘gospel rock’, but also caused by way of his own lampooning)–would have pleased the poet, however much of a backhanded compliment it might be. The newness of both forms–organ and rock–baffled masses across centuries. It is the inability to reason with the paradigm shift, in that he was living through the shift, that caused Milton to relegate such newness to the Temple of Unreason.

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Bibliography
1. Williams, Helen, and Peter Williams. “Milton and Music; Or the Pandaemonic Organ.” The Musical Times, Sept. 1966, pp. 760–763.
2. Milton, John. Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Collin Classics, 2013.
3. Bledsoe, Martin. “What’s Wrong With Rock Music?” Christian Research Service, 15 Oct. 2012, http://www.christianresearchservice.com/whats-wrong-with-rock-music/. The author of this article is unknown. Martin Bledsoe has been credited as a contributor.