My first experience with classical music was in high school via a slightly older friend, a Taekwando black belt and self-taught renegade flautist of the Ian Anderson/Jethro Tull school. He played me a recording of Bach’s Die Kunst der Fugue performed on the organ, and I still remember my amazement as the final fugue, rolling along like a juggernaut, suddenly trailed off into silence, unfinished. I thought it was astonishing that a classically-trained musician would not only record a work that wasn’t finished, but would resist the temptation to provide an ending for it.
I’ve never heard any other unfinished classical pieces, but I’ve been listening to Die Kunst der Fugue almost weekly ever since, and it’s still my music of choice to listen to before a big race or when recovering from a race or long training run. There have been a few speculative recordings of the work where the final fugue has been completed, but none have ever sounded as satisfying to me as those notes simply unwinding and dissolving, like a question being muttered into the void.
