Writings: | A few thoughts… | an idea
A few thoughts about the making and the perception of new concert music
I would like to begin with a reminder that, when discussing the state of new and newer concert music, we are dealing with a small fraction of a small fraction of the cultural landscape. Western concert music was, from the start, never intended as mass entertainment. But neither was it intended as a secret art; that composers at every time and place have lamented the obscurity of their production—both individually and collectively—is both justifiable as well as an indication of general cultural poverty. But however much we may find deplorable the state of concert music within the general cultural landscape, that’s what it is: a small fraction of a small fraction.
In this context, it seems absurd to me that anyone should be motivated to divide this very small piece of pie into even smaller pieces, and yet it seems this happens continuously. We don’t just have festivals of new concert music (effectively isolating us from what little “general public” we might have access to); we have computer music festivals, “new complexity” festivals, “multi-media” festivals, “performance art” festivals and so on.
Speaking of absurdity, there is also the habit of suspending time-tested measures of artistic value when attempting to promote or evaluate a new variation on an existing musical form or dialect—or in plain language, making a value judgment about a new piece. For the purpose of preserving the peace, let’s take an example from the world of painting: The emergence of non-representational compositions in the work of Vassily Kandinsky in the early part of the last century seemed at the time (at least to some) to be a plunge into a field of incomprehensibility, with the most optimistic evaluation—opening art onto the fascinating realm of the subconscious—at one end, and the certainty of nothing more noble than simple fraud at the other. Yet with the century between then and now, it is very clear that while there certainly were artists who produced work without being fully capable of understanding the materials with which they were working, Kandinsky’s personal artistic journey from the vivid Russian near-abstractions of his early years to the highly controlled and fantastic biomorphic inventions of his last years in Paris during the second world war shows an artist working with a breathtaking inner knowledge, the result of which is a collective achievement that is widely appreciated and admired today.
In other words, that which gives art substance and viability does not change despite innovations in delivery systems or the invention of unique dialects. And what does this substance and viability consist of? If I try to find an answer that is meaningful simultaneously to the amateur music lover who happily goes to hear the Beethoven Ninth played by the local orchestra (no matter if it is a non-professional community group or the Berlin Philharmonic) as well as to the professional music specialist Milton Babbitt was thinking of when he wrote his now-infamous article known as “Who Cares if you Listen”, I come up with these things:
Music we care about:
1. charms us
2. stimulates our thoughts
3. alters our state of mind
4. shows us a reality that is beautiful and makes sense even though previously we didn’t know of its existence
5. makes us want more
6. gives us what we crave but…
7. holds back and/or keeps us guessing at least some of the time
(I’m sure there must be other important qualities or criteria, but these are the ones that have occurred to me so far.)
And music achieves these things (at least good music does) through pure sound. By this I mean that it doesn’t describe or explain things outside the world of musical sounds. It doesn’t have to and it’s much better off if it doesn’t try.
Now, of course there is a big difference between a short piece for violin and piano by Fritz Kreisler and a large chamber work by Elliott Carter. The former focuses primarily on the first of the characteristics listed above, while the latter is perhaps more related to the fourth than the others…but both contain ample quantities of all seven as, I believe, all fine music does.
I think the presence of all of these several mutually beneficial and valuable qualities also explains the popularity of composers like Stravinsky, Beethoven, Chopin and Reich. And equally, it explains the lack thereof with respect to people like Hummel, Paderewski, J. K. F. Fischer and various composers currently working whom I won’t name.
So you can see that to someone like me, criticisms such as “That music is no good; it’s all created by mathematical operations” or “That music is no good; it’s so sentimental and anyway it can’t be good if it appeals to so many people who don’t know anything about music” reflect false assumptions and a regrettably narrow point of view.
Stravinsky, Beethoven, Chopin and Reich are good examples of something else as well: all four (and many others such as Brahms, Berio, Haydn and Lansky) have composed works which prioritize differently among the seven qualities mentioned above from piece to piece, sometimes even changing focus within the same piece. I am not saying that a composer whose range of prioritization is more limited (Bruckner, for example) cannot by definition produce a great work of music; I am saying that moving freely among these priorities does not diminish a composer’s reach…and maybe even enhances it.
Getting back to my seven items above:
It’s clear that music serves many different purposes, some that are best realized in large social situations, others best in solitude; some music is designed for mass appeal, other music appeals only to professional specialists; some deliberately tries to find a new voice while other music proudly displays its connection to the known and the well-loved; some require a substantial investment of time and energy in order to derive full value, and others resemble single-use plastic food containers…the distinctions are endless. It’s all a question of the composer using his/her talent and skill for the purpose of realizing an art that is personally fulfilling and satisfying, according to that composer’s unique balance and priority among those seven qualities.
I think it is a good thing to try to understand the intention of the composer in terms of who he/she is speaking to; I think a great deal of criticism is misguided as a result of the failure to take intentions into account. But equally, composers can be at fault for not even giving any genuine thought to who his/her intended listener really is or ought to be. For example, I have been very frustrated with the world of new opera which, to my mind, mostly steers clear of any attempt to authentically define our times. (Two operas that I think DO succeed incredibly well in this way are Berio’s Cronaca del Luogo and Saariaho’s L’Amour du Loin.) But maybe it’s my shortcoming in insisting on opera’s purpose on my terms, rather than accepting that some operas are designed as clever light entertainment…and that’s just fine.
I’d like to close this little essay by describing a problem I’ve had as a composer ever since I started writing music: as someone brought up through adolescence being constantly surrounded by 18th, 19th and some 20th century music, and then being introduced to the wonders of the worlds of later 20th century and (much later) 21st century concert music, I’ve had a fairly confusing time trying to figure out who my audience is. I’ve been stuck at new-music concerts where pieces were poorly performed by uncommitted musicians playing for an audience that wasn’t even remotely aware of the power of, say, a recital by Rudolf Serkin…and I’ve been stuck in piano recitals of traditional repertoire in which the pianist has no conception of how to re-invent a Chopin Ballade as though it were a radical new work like “Fili” of Franco Donatoni. In other words, it’s easy for me to feel out of place no matter where I try to plant myself. My predictable solution has been to write music that I hope will be of value to music lovers from a variety of backgrounds—not because I want as many people as possible to be my audience, but because I find each of these sub-worlds to be stifling and narrowing in themselves and I need to express a musical landscape that is sufficiently inclusive. Equally predictable is the response I often get—a difficulty in finding the right “place” for my work. I suppose that over time, this response is conditioning my approach to each new project…but up to now, I don’t think I am ready to say exactly what that is.