I practiced it every single day, sometimes for hours, trying to perfect the nimble fingering of the brisk allegretto tempo. It made me think of marching through grassy fields, a synchronized stomp teetering at the brink of a frenetic tearing away into frenzy and commotion.
It was ten years later when I realized how apt that mental image probably was. The name "Alla Turca" re-emerged out of my memory only after I began researching my Ph.D. dissertation, for which I wrote a chapter about the attempted invasion of Vienna in 1683 by Ottoman forces. "Turca" swam back into my head, as did the old mental images, and then I remembered that Mozart was Austrian. Some preliminary Googling revealed that the third movement imitates the sound of Turkish Janissary bands: steady strong tones with drums and cymbals, trumpets and bells, widely believed to be the oldest variety of military marching band. Now hold on a second, I thought. What business did an Austrian have imitating Turkish military music?
Mozart's use of a style of music traditionally played by Ottoman Janissary troops (elite infantry fighters made up of the Sultan's household soldiers and bodyguards, strictly trained from childhood and often made up of Christian subjects) straddles the line between cultural appropriation and subversion. It simultaneously borrows from and legitimizes (for a western audience) a long-standing musical tradition, while undermining its integrity by westernizing its themes to produce something only loosely resembling Janissary marching band music.
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