When Did “Largo” Begin to Mean “Very Slow”?
Modern life is constantly surrounded by complex and noisy situations. This might be the reason why we feel constantly anxious and restless. In these situations, beautiful music could bring us a sense of peace and comfort. However, the sense of stability that music provides isn’t just due to beautiful melodies. Another element that allows us to find peace and stability through music is “tempo.” Today, we’ll explore the meaning of the word “largo”, a tempo term. Perhaps it’s precisely because of this “largo” that our lives become more expansive.
The original meaning of “largo” is not “slow,” but “broad.”
If you’re a classical music lover, the moment you hear the word “largo,” a melody may almost unconsciously come to mind. For me, that melody is the opening line of the aria “Ombra mai fu” from Handel’s opera “Xerxes.” The composer originally indicated the tempo as “Larghetto,” but most music fans today call it “Largo” instead of its title “Ombra mai fu”, which is derived from its opening lyrics.
The aria contains the following lyrics:
Ombra mai fu / Never was a shade
di vegetabile, / of any plant
cara ed amabile, / dearer and more lovely,
soave più. / or more sweet.
The slow tempo and sweet melody, as implied by the lyrics, evoke the sweetness of a slow, peaceful life. The flowing rhythm of “vegetabile” and “amabile” rhymes, creating a perfect harmony between melody, rhythm, and lyrics. However, the original meaning of “Largo” in Italian is said to be “broad” or “wide,”.
Naturally, I assumed it would convey the concept of speed, but now it’s “wide.” Why on earth did this change in meaning occur? I wonder what the “slow” tempo meant in the minds of the first composers who began using this word to describe musical tempo.
“Make way!”—Figaro’s “Largo”
In Rossini’s “The Barber of Seville,” the protagonist Figaro’s first apperance begins with his aria “Largo.” Therefore, this famous aria is often called “Largo,” and listening to it, you can clearly see what Italians mean by “Largo.”
Largo al factotum della città / Make way for the city’s best worker.
Largo! / Wide!
On a busy morning, Figaro defines himself as the most searched worker by everyone in the city. He demands that people spread out and not block his path, as he must hurry to work. Indeed, in Italian, ‘largo’ is not a matter of speed, but of space.
This raises the question: how did the Italian word “largo,” meaning “wide,” come to refer to “Very slow tempo”?
In the Baroque era, Italy, which dominated European music, gradually defined musical terms in its own language. From this time on, ‘largo’, which meant width rather than speed, began to be used as a speed term to indicate tempo. However, according to Stephen Johnson of BBC Music Magazine, among 18th-century musicians, “largo” actually meant a faster tempo than “adagio,” not like today.
Interestingly, it was not a musician, but a philosopher who cleared up this confusion. Jean-Jacques Rousseau defined this “Largo” tempo as the slowest tempo in music, and composers later adopted his argument. Rousseau was a multifaceted genius, not only a philosopher and writer, but also a composer.
But why did the philosopher Rousseau define Largo as the “slowest” tempo? Perhaps this philosopher saw some essential connection between “spaciousness” and “slowness.”
Slowness Embracing Spaciousness—Beethoven’s Choice
The first movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 17, “The Tempest,” offers one answer to this question. Designated as “Largo-Allegro,” this first movement begins with moments of almost breathless, time-stopping movement. This is followed by a series of rapid passages condensed with a variety of emotions. By contrasting slowness and speed, Beethoven creates brief moments of musical space, allowing for pauses in action and deep reflection. In other words, “Largo” here doesn’t simply denote slowness, but rather a “broad” thought capable of containing a multitude of emotions. It’s a space within the music where diverse emotions and thoughts can be expressed.
A Time Enduring the Pain of Absence—Dvořák’s Nostalgia
Another famous work featuring “Largo” is the second movement of Dvořák’s Symphony No. 9, “New World.” This Dvořák Largo reveals another kind of “broad thought.”
Celibidache, a renowned Romanian conductor who worked in the German music scene, is particularly known for his slow tempos. In this piece conducted by Celibidache, we can vividly sense the essence of the emotion of nostalgia experienced by a conductor who, like the composer, has left his homeland and is pursuing his music in a foreign land.
Bohemian novelist Milan Kundera, in his work “Nostalgia,” describes one of the most moving expressions in Czech: “I long for you,” according to the author, means, “I cannot bear the pain of your absence.”
If so, the second movement, “Largo,” of Dvorak’s Ninth Symphony is not simply slow music. It may represent the expansive time necessary to endure the pain of absence.
After all, longing is not something that can be processed simply.
This raises another question: In modern society, are we allowed enough “extensive time” to endure this kind of pain? Or rather, are we allowing ourselves this?
Hidden Anguish—Shostakovich’s Dilemma
The third movement, “Largo,” of “Symphony No. 5,” by Dmitri Shostakovich, a star composer of the early 20th century, shows a different aspect from the Largos we’ve already explored. This slow movement, which precedes the famous fourth movement, “Allegro non troppo,” reveals Shostakovich’s agony and resentment as a musician forced to survive under Stalin’s rule. Initially, it was often interpreted as a movement “accumulating energy for the march of the Great Soviet Republic.”
However, after the composer’s son’s biography disclosed the composer’s hidden inner struggles, conductors’ interpretations completely changed. This third movement, Largo, was, in fact, the composer’s greatest expression of resistance. Perhaps it was a quiet rebellion against the pace demanded by the system—the rapid advance of the Great Soviet People’s Republic.
Here, we must ask another question: Can “slowness” truly be a form of “resistance” against the world? In a modern society where everyone is forced to run fast, perhaps slow walking represents true courage.
An Artist Who Stops the Light: The Works of James Turrell
If music is an art of time, Fine art could be an art of space. So how does art visualize the spot of “Largo”?
The installation artist James Turrell, known as the “Master of Light,” comes to mind. This world seems to change at the speed of light. However, this artist deconstructs light, the world’s fastest moving object, and freezes it in a fixed space, creating an illusionary world which is transferred from the real world. Observing his work, which utilizes the changing colors of light to create a variety of visual effects, we feel an infinitely extended gap in time. Within this infinite space-time continuum, we encounter astonishing moments where diverse emotions condense and intersect.
Here lies the paradox. How can we, in a reality connected at the speed of 5G, pause for an hour to admire Turrell’s work? In an age where even the slightest difference, as fast as light, is considered a technological innovation, why do we visit art museums to witness the shifting light in a frozen space-time continuum?
Is slowness a luxury or resistance?
Figaro cries out to everyone, “Largo!”: Get out of the way, give me more space! To live in real world, he had to move incredibly fast, moving forward.
But Handel’s “Largo” is the exact opposite. Stop. Stay. Under this shade! Nothing could be more lovely and sweet.
In what kind of “Largo” do you live? Is it a Largo that cries out for a wider space in front of you to move forward, or a Largo that cries out for a relaxed space to stay still for a while?
In the age of artificial intelligence, people are increasingly forgetting to think. Therefore, deep reflection is becoming increasingly important. To think deeply, we need ample time. But isn’t this “sufficient time” not something given to us, but something we must create ourselves?
Largo is more than just a musical term; it’s a way of life. Living slowly isn’t laziness; it’s a choice to expand time to capture more.
How “broad” is your time today?
