Also Sprach Zarathustra

In this episode, we delve into the life and legacy of Richard Strauss, one of the most celebrated composers of the 20th century, whose iconic Also Sprach Zarathustra continues to captivate audiences worldwide. But Strauss’s story is more than music—it’s a tale of moral ambiguity, artistic brilliance, and survival under the Nazi regime.

Join us as we explore the triumph of Also Sprach Zarathustra’s 1896 debut, Strauss’s rise to fame, and his controversial relationship with the Nazi government. From his efforts to protect his Jewish family members to his decision to remain in Germany during World War II, Strauss’s choices raise profound questions about art, compromise, and the cost of moral courage.

With Strauss conducting a 1944 recording of Also Sprach Zarathustra as Europe burns, this episode examines the enduring power of his music and the haunting legacy of a man navigating one of history’s darkest eras.

Listen now to reflect on the brilliance and complexity of an artist who lived—and composed—through a time of extraordinary challenge.

EDITORS NOTE: “Also Sprach Zarathusra” (Dave’s special notes on this episode)

Introduction

On the evening of November 27, 1896, the concert hall in Frankfurt was electric with anticipation. The audience, a mix of well-heeled patrons and eager music enthusiasts, braced themselves for the debut of a new work by the ambitious 32-year-old composer Richard Strauss. As the orchestra struck the first notes of Also Sprach Zarathustra, the hall seemed to reverberate with something otherworldly. The brass heralded a radiant dawn, the iconic Sonnenaufgang (Sunrise), swelling into a sonic depiction of light piercing darkness. It was more than just music; it was an awakening.

Strauss’s Also Sprach Zarathustra, inspired by Nietzsche’s philosophical musings on humanity’s evolution, captured a boldness that felt both timeless and forward-looking. From the commanding C-G-C motif to the lush, sweeping melodies, the piece painted a cosmic narrative of human aspiration and existential struggle. Little did Strauss know that this composition, so vivid and affirming, would become one of his most enduring legacies, even co-opted by filmmakers decades later to underscore humanity’s first leap into the stars.

This triumphant evening established Strauss as a visionary in the realm of symphonic music, yet his life would unfold as a dramatic symphony in its own right—filled with brilliance, discord, and haunting complexity. Beneath his reputation for transcendent art lay a man whose career and moral compass were deeply entangled in the political tumult of the 20th century. Strauss would rise to prominence, only to find himself grappling with the horrifying realities of Nazi Germany. The question at the heart of his legacy remains: how does one reconcile the preservation of art and personal loyalty with complicity in an unforgivable regime?

Rise to Fame

Born in Munich in 1864, Richard Strauss was a prodigy nurtured by a musical family. His father, Franz Strauss, was a virtuoso horn player and staunch traditionalist who loathed the more experimental music of Wagner. Young Richard, however, quickly showed his own flair for innovation. By his early twenties, he had composed Don Juan, a daring tone poem that showcased his knack for storytelling through music. Audiences were captivated by his ability to imbue a full orchestra with the kind of emotional depth usually reserved for opera.

Strauss’s career skyrocketed as he pushed boundaries with operas like Salome and Elektra, which scandalized and thrilled audiences in equal measure. These works cemented his reputation as a master of blending lush, evocative music with provocative narratives. Yet, despite his modernist streak, Strauss remained apolitical. He once quipped that he only cared about music and his family, an attitude that would later complicate his life under the Third Reich.

The success of Also Sprach Zarathustra in 1896 was a turning point. With its grand orchestral textures and philosophical undertones, the piece was hailed as a masterpiece, even earning praise from those who usually dismissed Strauss’s avant-garde tendencies. It also demonstrated his ability to create art that resonated universally—a legacy he would fight to protect even in the darkest of times.

Strauss and the Nazi Regime

When the Nazis seized power in 1933, Strauss found himself in a precarious position. The party sought to weaponize culture as propaganda, and Strauss’s stature made him an obvious choice for a figurehead. Despite his personal disdain for their ideology, he accepted the presidency of the Reichsmusikkammer, the state music bureau. His motivations were twofold: a desire to maintain his artistic freedom and, more importantly, to shield his Jewish daughter-in-law Alice and their children.

Strauss walked a fine line. He composed the Olympic Hymn for the 1936 Berlin Games and even dedicated music to Nazi leaders, but he balked at the party’s attempts to dictate his work. Privately, he expressed contempt for the regime, writing in letters that he found their racial policies abhorrent. His correspondence with Jewish librettist Stefan Zweig, with whom he collaborated on the opera Die schweigsame Frau, was intercepted, leading to a chilling warning from Joseph Goebbels.

Goebbels famously dismissed Strauss as “a decadent neurotic” but admitted, “Unfortunately we still need him.” It was a grudging acknowledgment of Strauss’s cultural importance, though tensions simmered. His refusal to conform to Nazi cultural policy, coupled with his efforts to shield his Jewish family, made him increasingly suspect.

Decline of Strauss’s Relationship with the Nazis

By the late 1930s, Strauss’s tenuous relationship with the Nazi regime had soured. He was quietly removed as president of the Reichsmusikkammer and retreated from public life. Though his international reputation afforded him some protection, his family’s safety was far from guaranteed.

The war years were a time of profound personal and professional isolation. Strauss’s attempts to protect Alice and her children were only partially successful; many of his Jewish relatives were not as fortunate. Twenty-five members of his extended family perished in the Holocaust. Meanwhile, Strauss continued to compose, his music increasingly introspective and nostalgic, as though mourning a world that no longer existed.

Art Amidst the Collapse of Germany

Amid the chaos of 1944, Strauss achieved a remarkable artistic milestone. In Vienna, as Allied bombs ravaged Germany and the Nazi regime teetered on collapse, he conducted a high-fidelity recording of Also Sprach Zarathustra with the Vienna Philharmonic. The recording, captured using cutting-edge technology, was a triumph of artistry over adversity.

Yet the session’s eerie juxtaposition—Strauss creating beauty while his world crumbled—epitomized his life’s contradictions. As cities burned and millions perished, the music remained, a haunting reminder of humanity’s capacity for both creation and destruction.

Moral Ambiguity

Strauss’s decision to remain in Germany has sparked endless debate. Did he achieve more by staying, preserving German music, and protecting his family? Or would exile have allowed him to align his actions more closely with his values? Unlike Einstein or Zweig, Strauss chose compromise over defiance, a choice that has clouded his legacy.

What is undeniable, however, is the enduring power of his work. Also Sprach Zarathustra, with its soaring Sonnenaufgang, continues to inspire awe, standing as a testament to Strauss’s genius and the resilience of art even in the darkest times.

The opening notes of Sonnenaufgang rise, piercing the darkness like a question posed to eternity: can beauty exist in a world fraught with moral failure? Strauss’s life, like his music, offers no simple answers. He was both a man of immense talent and a figure of troubling compromise.

In 1944, as Strauss conducted his masterpiece in Vienna, the war’s devastation loomed outside the concert hall. It was a moment that encapsulated his legacy—a brilliant artist navigating the shadows of history. Through his music, Strauss left a reminder that even amidst collapse, humanity’s capacity for creation endures. Whether that creation redeems or indicts its maker is a question we continue to ask, every time the first notes of Also Sprach Zarathustra light up the horizon.

The 1944 Performance of Also Sprach Zarathustra by the Vienna Philharmonic under the baton of Richard Strauss