Music, Words, Meaning, Titles, Critics, and Other Fascinating Things,

Allan Kozinn has a really interesting piece up about titles of pieces by composers. I don't have, really, any problems with it; however, I do have some comments. Also, some pictures that are fun to look at. As usual.

During an interview segment of a Making Music concert at Zankel Hall last week the composer George Crumb was asked whether the titles of the first and last movements of his “Vox Balaenae (Voice of the Whale)” — “Vocalise (... for the Beginning of Time)” and “Sea-Nocturne (... for the End of Time)” — were meant to be as ominous as they sounded.

Are whale sounds really ominous? I think the larger question would be the connection of the pieces as a cycle, or something. Although the End of Time I suppose is somewhat off-putting.

“They’re just poetic titles,” Mr. Crumb

said, brushing off the question. “Sometimes people take composers’ titles too seriously."

The titles don't mean anything? Words...don't mean anything? Does the music mean anything? Oh, dear. Paging Mr Derrida...

And whose fault is that?

Um, the composer's?

When listeners encounter these titles in their program books or on CD covers, it’s only natural that they conclude that the title is meant to tell them something about the nature of the work. But logical as that assumption is, it is often confounded these days.

Let's see where this goes. There are many things at work, here. (Is there a metaphor in music criticism?)

A few weeks before the Crumb program, inapt titles were thick on the ground

On the ground?

at a Da Capo Chamber Players concert. A shimmering but increasingly vehement work by Chen Yi seemed far too forceful to be called “Happy Rain on a Spring Night.”

Too vehement to be happy, I guess.

And “Cloud Forest” seemed far too misty a title for Conor Brown’s zesty, off-kilter work, with its strands of American and Turkish folk music.

More zesty than misty, therefore: inapt title (on the ground).

At a recent concert by the Cassatt Quartet, Joan Tower offered some insight into how little a title can tell us about what a work actually means to a composer. She said that her first quartet was a struggle, and that she originally thought of calling it “Nightmare.” But thinking the title was too negative, she changed it to “Night Fields” and wrote a program note describing “a cold windy night in a wheat field lit up by a bright full moon, with waves of fast moving colors rolling over the fields” to explain the fanciful new title. But the harmonically prickly writing at the work’s heart suggested that she had been right the first time.

See, this is where I agree with Mr Kozinn. The "meaning" of the music, or even the images or emotions it is intended to evoke, is affected by the title. This Tower

quote makes the whole notion of her title seem disingenuous. And therefore ultimately irrelevant to the "meaning" of the music (sorry for the scare quotes).

Perhaps the notion of giving a work a title makes composers feel awkward. Through much of classical music’s history, the titles of secular instrumental works were usually just formal descriptions (symphony, quartet, concerto), and when titles were affixed (“Moonlight,” for example) they were usually a publisher’s idea. Publishers understood that titles, and the imagery they evoked, could help move copies; composers were in it for the art.

This is true. Many popular classical/romantic works that are well-known by their nicknames were not nicknamed (is that a word?) by the composer.

Even so, Baroque composers sometimes used titles to tell listeners what their works were about, and in the case of Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons,” four descriptive sonnets were translated into music phrase by phrase.

True again; however it should be noted that in the Baroque (especially in Germany and Italy) musical composition was closely tied in with theories of classical (Roman, not Beethoven) rhetoric, and the connection between words and music was regarded very differently than today, or even the Romantic period. (Crap. I should be more consistent with my capitalization. Oh, well.)

Early in the 19th century composers with wild imaginations, like Robert Schumann, weren’t shy about using titles that informed listeners about outlandish subtexts — battles between art-hating Philistines and artistic Davids for example — which the music’s impulses fully supported. By the late 19th century titles were plentiful. The vast majority of Liszt’s piano works have descriptive names (the B minor Sonata is an obvious exception), and few would dispute that the music of each section of Mussorgsky’s

“Pictures at an Exhibition” lives up to its title, in some cases more vividly than the Victor Hartmann sketch that inspired it.

Yeah, programmaticism (is that a word?) became very pervasive in the 19th century; it is an interesting exercise to play pieces with programs for people twice: Once before and once after they know the title, and observe their reactions to the "meaning" of the work.

The French Impressionists, though harmonic revolutionaries, retained the notion that a title should tell listeners something about what’s going on in the piece. You can’t hear “Le Gibet” (“The Gallows”), the central movement of Ravel’s

“Gaspard de la Nuit,” without conjuring the bleak image of a hanged man, slowly swinging as the sun sets and a bell tolls, and Debussy

was a master of evocative work names.

Would we understand that "La Mer" was about the sea without the aid of the title? That is, I think, the essence of the problem.

To an extent composers began thinking differently about titles in the mid-20th century, when some modernist composers swept them away as remnants of the emotional and painterly excesses of Romanticism.

Yes.

For a time names became either mathematical or self-consciously blank: “Octagon,”

Octandre?

“Synchronism,” “Groups”

Gruppen?

or “Polymorphia".

Translations unnecessary, but point taken.

But every now and then composers cottoned on to what 19th-century publishers knew: that titles sell. In 1960 the Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki wrote an intense, thoroughly abstract work for 52 strings, which he unsentimentally called “8’37.” ” It wasn’t until he had heard the work performed that he came up with the title by which it is known today, “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima.”

Ah, again, herein lies the rub. Clearly a timing and an ode give the listener different ideas about what the piece they're about to hear...means.

When Mr. Penderecki

told me this, over lunch about a decade ago, I was stunned. I had always heard the work, with its searing, dissonant string clusters, as a cry of anguish, a composer’s contemplation of the devastation unleashed by the atomic bomb. But when I asked Mr. Penderecki how the title came to him, he first said, “I don’t know,” and then looked down at his paella.

Good anecdote. Paging Mr Derrida, again.

“I was surrounded by propaganda against the American bomb,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Living at that time, you know. I did it. And because of the dedication to Hiroshima, certainly, people found this interesting. Because I have other pieces for strings that are not so well known.”

Did the music "mean" something before he wrote it than after he changes its name?

That the title was an opportunistic afterthought, not an indication of Mr. Penderecki’s feelings while writing the work, apparently doesn’t matter.

It doesn't?

Two summers ago, when John Harbison’s “Abu Ghraib” had its premiere at Tanglewood, Mr. Harbison presided over a panel discussion about political works and cited the Penderecki as a predecessor. When I caught up with him during the intermission and told him about my conversation with Mr. Penderecki, Mr. Harbison said he had heard that too. Yet he still regarded “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima” as Exhibit A in a discussion of politically inspired works.

That is illogical, Mr Harbison.

Younger composers are often more whimsical with their titles. Michael Torke seemingly mined a Crayola box for the titles of his most famous works and forestalled critical argument: Who is to say that “Ecstatic Orange” doesn’t sound like that?

Me. I do.

Caleb Burhans keeps a list of lines from films, television shows and advertisements, as well as random overheard phrases that catch his ear, pinned to the wall over his composing desk and has drawn titles like “Iceman Stole the Sun” and “You Could Hear It Touch the Viking” from it.

I actually like the Dada/Postmodern aspect of pointless piece names; it fingers the very issue of musical meaning being hashed out here.

Then there’s my favorite: David Lang’s “Eating Living Monkeys,” a title that the music, thankfully, does not live up to.

How could it?

But as amusing or provocative as titles can be, they inevitably create expectations. And those expectations enlist the listener as a participant in the performance. It’s hard not to do some mental gymnastics to square the titles with the music.

In theory a title ups the stakes by proposing an image that the composer must match with fresh, surprising music that avoids any clichés the title may suggest. So applying a title frivolously is cheating. If composers are going to bother with titles at all, they might as well be as serious about them as Schumann and Ravel were.

Interesting issue. Good piece, and food for thought.

Compelling Backstory Explains Everything

I personally believe that music can (and most likely should) be enjoyed simply as a musical experience. However, I understand that some people get great enjoyment from extra-musical information. The life of the composer, the circumstances or inspiration for a particular piece can indeed provide a context that enhance our enjoyment of a musical performance. There's no doubting that...but it's not everything, right?

Review: Grand Rapids Symphony's Classical Series concert features glowing performances, low notes
Jeffrey Kaczmarczyk, The Grand Rapids Press, October 30, 2010

Sometimes knowing the backstory means everything.

Sometimes not. I guess it depends on what you mean by "everything". Or by "knowing".

The Grand Rapids Symphony's Classical Series concerts this weekend in DeVos Performance Hall has several.

Backstories? Can't wait!

For openers, the titles to the pieces can be misleading.

Misleading titles? You're suggesting that composers misled audiences?

figure misleading: Not me.

Plus, how much of a backstory is a misleading title anyway?

But you've got my attention...I'm racking my brain to think of a title I consider misleading. Maybe...Four Saints in Three Acts by Virgil Thomson (which contains some 20 saints in four acts).

What egregious examples of misleadingly titled compositions did the Grand Rapids Symphony perform?

There's nothing pathetic about Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique" Symphony.

[smacks forehead]

Its composer dubbed it "passionate," which the French translated as "pathetique," and there it stuck.

Seriously, you don't have to speak French to know that is a pathetic translation.

"Pathetique", in French, denotes a feeling of passion and sorrow, and while sharing the same root (and being a literalistic translation), is not really a direct equivalent to the English concept of pathetic as "miserably or contemptibly inadequate". Context people. Context.

By the way: Great. Backstory.

Richard Strauss took his title "Also sprach Zarathustra" from a philosophical treatise by Friedrich Nietzsche, and thankfully little else.

Well, other than the inspiration, the movement titles, and the general narrative of the piece.

In a letter to Otto Florsheim (I assume of Florsheim Shoes fame), Strauss wrote:

“I did not intend to write philosophical music or to portray in music Nietzsche’s great work. I meant to convey by means of music an idea of the development of the human race from its origin, through the various phases of its development, religious and scientific, up to Nietzsche’s idea of the Superman. The whole symphonic poem is intended as my homage to Nietzsche’s genius, which found its greatest exemplification in his book, Thus Spake Zarathustra.”

But what I want to know is why this is "thankfully" so? It's a difficult read, yet Nietzsche created an original and radical philosophical which sent shockwaves throughout religious communities. Not to mention it's the book which contains the famous maxim, "God is dead." Whether or not you subscribe to any of the philosophies of Nietzsche, he is significant figure in literature and philosophy. How weak must one's beliefs be to feel threatened by a book written over a 120 years ago.

figure same name: They share the same name, but little else...thankfully.

But again, I guess the title's misleading. I guess.

Actually, no...wait, it's not misleading at all, since it tell us exactly (with no room for mistake) the source/impetus for it's composition.

Great backstory, though. I really feel like I know everything about the piece.

Tchaikovsky conducted his premiere 117 years ago last Thursday; Strauss conducted his premiere 114 years ago next month.

You're right. The titles don't give any reference to when the premieres took place. That is misleading.

For an audience of 1,048 on Friday, music director David Lockington led glowing performances of both major works, performed this month in part to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the opening of DeVos Hall in October 1980. Both were part of the orchestra's first season in the 2,400-seat auditorium.

Seems fitting. By the way...another great backstory. I wonder what tragedy befell those of the 1048 in attendance who were not aware of this important backstory.

figure backstory: Wait, is this the right backstory?

But thinking of misleading titles...your review title suggested something about "low notes". Did something go wrong at the concert?

No guest stars were on the program, apart from a lot of extra players and plenty of very, very low notes.

Uh.

Strauss' tone poem, famous from the opening minutes used for Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey," is an expansive, imaginative portrayal of the evolution of man.

As opposed to the text by Nietzsche?

And the obligatory reference to 2001 here...really? Does that count as backstory, or just a pointless aside?

Where Strauss' audience was fascinated by the technological advances allowing man to overcome nature, today's audiences are more interested in the technological advances allowing them to reach out and touch someone else, nature be damned.

O-kay. Where are you going with this?

Thus, the importance of the nine or so themes don't always resonate.

Not sure I follow. We have facebook instead of electric light, and therefore, the musical themes don't resonate? Are you sure?

Nor does the dichotomy of two different keys, B-flat for humanity, C major for the universe, seem as jarring.

Because of technology? Cellphones are the reason B-flat and C don't seem jarring?

Wow. You totally understand the last 100 years of music. Not to mention the advent of radio and television. I mean I just love how NBC has always insisted that every jingle used in advertisements be in the key of G to avoid any cosmic disharmony.

Timing and balance is everything in the famous introduction. The former was elusive, the latter better.

The balance was better than elusive? That's quite the compliment.

But I thought knowing the backstory was everything? And if the timing and balance are everything, can both things be true at the same time?

I'm going to chalk up this last one to hyperbole...for now...

"The Great Yearning" theme expanded lushly. The conclusion of "The Convalescent" shook mortar loose in the walls. The solo in "The Dance Song" was deftly handled by concertmaster James Crawford.

So, what's the backstory here? If not the Nietzsche text, then what??? It is everything you know.

The "Song of the Night Wanderer" at end floated away unresolved, as intended.

So, the performance was apt? By the way, how misleading were these thematic titles. The image of "The Convalescent" doesn't usually bring to mind building code violations. And "The Dance Song" doesn't even begin to tell me it's for a soloist. Maybe you were on to something.

Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony was a tale of unrequited love, and the power of that theme hasn't dimmed a bit.

Yes, unrequited love could never be thought of as "pathetic" or sorrowful...or the sixth.

It's also a well-known war-horse that demands attention to detail.

As opposed to new, unfamiliar music which, well, no one knows what the hell it's supposed to sound like, and therefore deserves no attention to detail.

Lockington took the long view, not giving overt attention to the big moments, but leaving himself elbow room for later.

Sounds rather unsatisfying. Aren't the big moments, you know, the climactic moments of which the rest of the piece is constantly building? And "later"? Big moments mostly come at the end, no?

Also, "long view"? It's a symphony, not policies to avoid the complete collapse of civilization. Any view that looks at least an hour into the future should be adequate. One might even suggest you take it in four smaller parts.

figure long view: Taking the long view to parking at the airport. The hourly lot just doesn't make a lot of sense for my week long trip.

Somber at the outset, the famous second theme unfolded as a sunrise of its own, Lockington moving it along nicely, the orchestra responding rapturously.

Rapturous sunrise...sounds like a fabulous second theme indeed. But since we're saving elbow room for later, it's only a sunrise and not a supernova, right?

Some syncopated passages were slippery,...

No worries...it's a common problem. I've found that a little pine tar, or at least some rosin, goes a long way.

...but Lockington drew powerful sonorities from the strings, ending the long opening with a satisfying sigh.

Slippery, but powerful sonorities, ending in a sigh. Are any of these things "everything"?

But before you answer that...it's time for some Detritus Review Madlibs!

Tonight's entry comes to us from the home box office in Grand Rapid, Michigan -- discussing the third movement of the Tchaikovsky 6th Symphony, Mr. Kaczmarczyk wrote:

The _____ third movement was a(n) _____ moment of _____, _____ wrapped around _____, all on the road to a(n) _____, _____ conclusion.

fluidity
triumphant
magical
precision
upbeat
lovingly
brassy

I'm liking these options...so let's try...

The upbeat third movement was a magical moment of fluidity, lovingly wrapped around precision, all on the road to a triumphant, brassy conclusion.

Ooh. That's nice. But...it could be...

The brassy third movement was triumphant moment of precision, lovingly wrapped around fluidity, all on the road to a magical, upbeat conclusion.

It's tough call...let's just say they both work.

If some of the audiences don't applaud here, you know you've done it wrong.

Or perhaps those audiences who didn't clap are just stupid...did you ever consider that?

Friday's certainly did, and they were right.

Did what? Right?

Oh, they clapped. At least we know they're not stupid -- who doesn't know that you're not not suppose to clap between movements during certain symphonies?

Anguish poured out in the heartbreaking finale with its despondent chorale in the lower brass.

Again, I think just how right you are that the title "Pathetique" is just so misleading. And how that backstory was everything.

Lockington on the podium was visibly distraught afterward.

Really...but why?

It helps to know the backstory.

Yes, that may help, given that I can't divine the why from that one sentence.

Nine days after conducting the premiere, Tchaikovsky was dead.

I see. The symphony killed Tchaikovsky, and therefore Lockington feared for his own life. You're totally right...cholera couldn't have possibly been the culprit. If titles of popular novels tell me anything of the world, it's that cholera is a time of love, not death.

figure cholera: I've always thought that cholera would make a great backdrop for a love story.

He was 53.

Ahem. He was 53 and a half.

figure knowing: And now we know!

Titles Are Meaningless

As titles go, some are pretty disconnected from the gist of the text, and since they aren’t always chosen by the author, it’s a double-edged sword, a "chicken or the egg?" question: who’s to blame? The author or the editor?

Take this gem from The Barre-Montpillier Times Argus:

Is new music cutting edge anymore?

Thinking to myself: Hmmm. That’s good question. Isn’t it? I suppose I have my opinion, but I’ll reserve that until I read the rest of the article. I’m reasonable, right? Right.

To all the Detritusites: Given the title, it would seem to follow that we’re about to read a piece about how new music is, or is not, pushing the boundaries. Are you on the same page with me?

Good. Let’s go.

It's been a long time since Vermont audiences have had to be conned into listening to contemporary music, particularly music from their own state.

Uh, two things. One, define “a long time,” please. Seems to me I remember a concert on November 15th, featuring Elliott Cater and Olivier Messiaen, another the 14th before that, and two more October 18th and 17th before that. And those just by the ensemble about whom this article was written.

Moreover, “conned?” If the title is any indicator, then it sounds like our author hasn’t been conned for a long while, the last time only because they featured a raffle for a brand new Sega Genesis.

But it was the Vermont Contemporary Music Ensemble, a group of central Vermont professional musicians, that broke the ice – beginning its crusade to bring today's music to today's audiences more than 20 years ago.

Huh. So really our author means, “Back in 1989, it had been a long time since Vermont audiences were conned.”

Or the title’s “cutting edge” refers to breaking the ice, somehow. I don’t know.

But what I do know is that the rest of the article is a neutral sort of puff piece, kindly describing the new pieces on the upcoming program, putting the performers under the spotlight, etc., etc.

So what gives? Is new music cutting edge? Hello? Did the editor actually read the piece? Or did the author decide to inject his opinion in the title and proceed to write some rather pleasant puffery?

Titles are meaningless.

-

One more “chicken or the egg?” gaffe:

Unlike the recent [Vermont Symphony Orchestra] program titled "Romance," there's no theme here.

But earlier:

Next weekend, the VCME will present "Enchanted," [...].
-

News Flash: Language Has No Meaning

Venerable Houston critic Ward gives us more gems to admire. Clearly, all of the Houston-area editors are still missing. Or something.

Restraint lets Houston Symphony’s Russian music concert soar

The restraint was soaring! Great premise. I bet this is going somewhere awesome.

(subheading) Pianist’s clean skill, conductor’s discipline highlight show marred by curious selections

The show [ed: I think he means concert, but okay] was marred by curious…selections. I can’t wait.

Meat-and-potatoes meals aren't occasions for cooks to go three-star Michelin Guide creative.

In the sentence above, the clause “three-star Michelin Guide creative” is acting as an adverb. This highly fucked-up adverbial clause modifies the verb “to go”. The sense of the sentence, is, I guess, achieved. But that is really bad. Bad!

So, too, with musical programs.

I…what? Imagining a parallel construction:

“Meat-and-potatoes musical programs aren’t occasions for cooks [concert programmers?] to go three-star Michelin Guide creative.”

Jesus. Your assertion is that…orchestral warhorses…should not be spiced up with newer or lesser-known works? Is that it? Because that is stupid. What is your aesthetic basis for this assertion (not to mention your assault on grammar and parallel sentence construction)? Let’s find out!

The core of the Houston Symphony's concert Thursday in Jones Hall was heart-of-the-repertoire Russian music: Sergei Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 1 and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 4. They elicited vivid playing and interpretations from soloist Stephen Hough and the orchestra.

The core of the concert was heart-of-the-repertoire music. This was ruined for you…because lesser/unknown works were also programmed? You, a professional critic, are distracted by…music? Really? Wow.

Also, I’d like it if you italicized or otherwise set off the titles of the pieces. You know, usage and stuff. Okay?

But as is his habit, and occasional weakness, music director Hans Graf gussied up this simple, sturdy sustenance with oddities that distracted rather than illuminated: three of Ottorino Respighi's set of orchestrations of five Rachmaninoff piano pieces (Études-tableaux) and John Adams' Tromba lontana.

Hey, thanks for the italics! It really set off the titles effectively. Using words, you have made something clear for the reader! Well done, sir.

But: the “simple, sturdy sustenance” was “gussied up” with distracting music by Respighi and Adams? Your implied construction is “gussied up sustenance”. Is that what you mean? Because that is some nonsense.

These choices had theoretical justification but little practical reason.

That is a strange thing to say. What is the theoretical justification?

Respighi turned Rachmaninoff the mysterious muse into Rachmaninoff the haunt of horror houses.

Your forced alliteration is starting to annoy me. Also: what do you think that sentence means? Because I have no idea.

Adams' piece, commissioned by the Houston Symphony for the Texas sesquicentennial, was just an odd man out with its two solo trumpets and softly repetitive accompaniment.

The piece…was an odd man out? What? Was it more muse or horror house? Or are we talking about theoretical justifications? I’m getting lost here, Ward.

Hough quickly dispelled the distraction of Respighi with his sparkling account of the concerto Rachmaninoff wrote in his late teens.

You were distracted by Respighi, but then Rachmaninoff sparkled, which made everything okay. Awesome.

Back then, the composer was still refining the sumptuous style of melodies and dazzling piano style of his later works but the First Concerto still had plenty to entertain and seduce.

Rachmaninoff…seduced you? No. The Concerto seduced you? How do you do it with a concerto? Sexy and intriguing! Also, thanks for randomly not italicizing titles again. That is spectacularly inconsistent.

Hough's playing at the piano was a joy to hear simply for its basic character. Thursday it was fluid, fleet, clean, utterly at ease. His technical facility made Rachmaninoff's formidable writing seem ordinary, though it actually posed enormous technical challenges.

Dear Sir: Please try not to use “technical” twice in a sentence like this. It is distracting and seductive. Signed, Your Imaginary Editor

With the adroit help of Graf and the orchestra, he sold a lesser work as a piece of brilliant compositional craft. The process was totally enjoyable.

It was enjoyable when...he sold a lesser work...as a piece of brilliant compositional craft. Translation: you enjoy observing fraud? What?

In the Tchaikovsky symphony, which followed Adams' short piece, Graf illustrated how exciting disciplined control can be in a work that can easily get out of hand via a conductor's emotional wallowing.

Submissive control is exciting?! Seductive, even?

For the first three movements, clarity and relative restraint reigned. Tchaikovsky's music had room to breath and the audience could hear its fine details. The orchestra had time to negotiate tricky rhythms without rushing. Soloists had time to savor the succulence of their sometimes bittersweet melodies.

Sorry. Sorry. “Room to breath”? (A noun!) Breathe? ( A verb!) [Aside: it is hilarious that "verb" is a noun.]

For the finale, Graf had so chastened expectations that the orchestra could safely roar through the brilliant music without overplaying or exaggerating. And, at the end, Graf got a moment for "'irony": As the music grew in intensity he tapered his sharp, clean beat to a level of suggestion rather than meaningless display. No flailing was necessary for the audience to sense the excitement at hand.

Why is “irony” in quotes? Either a) someone said it, and you are quoting them, or b) you don’t mean it literally, which is ironic. Or “ironic”. That is some twisted shit. Your ironic, improper use of quotes around the word “irony” is ironic. Wow! Embedded meaning? Or bad writing?

Not that all of the energy came off cleanly. Tuning during a cello section solo in the second movement was badly focused. Some of the string pizzicato playing, or plucking, in the third movement was flabby and unaligned.

But otherwise Graf and the musicians delivered an interpretation that encouraged listeners to think that, just maybe, Tchaikovsky's music doesn't require conductor and orchestra to have left entrails of exertion on the floor to produce an exhilarating performance.

Entrails...exertion…exhilarating. Was that the “theoretical justification” for the programming? I’m lost. Good thing Derrida let me know that language is powerless to communicate meaning.

Hyphens and New Music!

How to make modern music user friendly

Once again, someone’s style sheet forbids capitalization in titles. Why? Also, “user-friendly” should likely be hyphenated. (See previous post….)

However, this is exciting! We’re going to learn to do what the title promises, I hope. If not, I will be disappointed. And probably sarcastic.

The promising yet still-nascent state of Miami's modern-music scene is evident by the fact that many of its most adventurous events are presented by universities and their affiliates.

Minor points in re: hyphens: “Modern-music”? I think you mean “modern music”? “Still-nascent” is…fine. But it sounds like “stillborn”. Which is creepy.

A worthy example is Sara Laimon's compelling piano recital Thursday night at the Wolfsonian-FIU in Miami Beach, which offered a trio of contemporary works spanning three generations of composers.

By “is” I think you mean “was”, because “offered” is past tense. Also considering that the concert took place [last] Thursday. Nitpicking. But still excited? How are we going to make modern-music user friendly? Or modern music user-friendly? Whichever.

A founder and co-artistic director of the New York-based experimental music group Sequitur, Laimon is an extraordinary musician with a prodigious technique allied to a communicative precision well suited to this music and evident in her user-friendly spoken introductions.

“Well-suited” should also have a hyphen, I think. But now we’ve got our “user-friendly” hyphen. At least you’re not consistent!

Are the “user-friendly” spoken introductions how we’re going to make modern music user-friendly? I can’t wait to find out!

Cast in seven sections, Brian Cherney's In the Stillness of the Seventh Autumn is loosely inspired by words of Debussy and T. S. Eliot, with music meant to evoke an open-ended mystery. Cherney fuses Impressionist elements with 21st century edge, as with isolated ''thudded'' notes, in which Laimon manually mutes the piano strings. There are aggressive outbursts, but a peaceful, limpid atmosphere predominates. The Canadian composer's work utilizes the entire keyboard, and Laimon made all the turbulence, subtle hues and stark effects register incisively with extraordinary focus.

You should meet my friend Empiricus. He loves adjective-laden phrases. I, on the other hand, love correct hyphen usage!

Harold Meltzer's Piano Sonata is likely the first work written in 2008 to be heard on the local music scene. The Brooklyn-born Meltzer is co-artistic director of Sequitur with Laimon, for whom this work was written. His Sonata was inspired by Cezanne's use of light and shade and effectively mines three-part sonata form with a graceful merging of tradition and contemporary style.

“Three-part” = well done! Still waiting for the explanation about the user-friendly thing, though.

There's a motoric, Prokofiev-like driving energy but also a distinctly American feel. Meltzer's sonata suggests early Copland in its spiky, acerbic writing, yet there's a compelling individuality in its quickly shifting meters, jazz-flavored syncopations and hushed coda. Meltzer, who was in attendance Thursday, will have his Piano Concerto premiered next month by Ursula Oppens with the Los Angeles Philharmonic.

I see a Mad Lib in your future! What about the…

At 83, Ezra Laderman was the most veteran composer represented. Written in 2002, his Piano Sonata No. 3 is an epic work, spanning about 50 minutes in three movements, with a middle part of 10 shorter sections.

…user-friendly…

The opening Fantasia switches expressive gears, going from violent outbursts to an uneasy, pensive calm. The final movement is a set of variations that grows increasingly agitated with moments of hard-won solace, closing with a quiet air of resigned transcendence.

...you were saying that we can make modern music…

Laderman withdrew the sonata's subtitle The Circus of My Mind, yet it's hard to avoid the feeling that this vast, varied central movement amounts in large part to a bracing self-portrait, given such descriptive titles as ''Mercurial,'' ''Forceful, Brusque,'' and ''Driven and Impetuous.'' Laimon showed complete mastery of this sprawling music in a tour-de-force performance that was alive to its brooding reflection as well as forcefully articulating in the bravura pages.

…user-friendly. Did you forget? Surely not. Surely your final paragraph will clear everything up!

Kathleen Wilson, FIU's new director of music, is a committed contemporary-music advocate, and perhaps such one-off events as Thursday's could be expanded into a mini-series of modern piano and chamber music at the Wolfsonian, with its intimate venue offering the perfect setting.

Is…is it the perfect setting that makes modern music user-friendly? Or the spoken introductions? One-off? Mini-series? Contemporary-music? Really? Ugh.

Oh, I get it. It’s hyphens. Sigh.

Friday (Not-So) Quickie: Speaking truth to power...

I recently became aware of a rather amusing exchange between an author/journalist of history, science and nature, and the cult-ish world of secondary education band programs.

figure band: Nerds.

Band music is, for the most part, absolutely awful. I think that's clear to most right thinking people. And while the academy and good composers have known this decades (which is why so few will ever write for band), it seems to be a little acknowledged reality.

Well, not to Stephen Budiansky. In January of 2005, he published an article in the Washington Post entitled "The Kids Play Great. But That Music...".

You should read the whole article, but let me highlight the basic gist of his article:

That Piece [the generic name he gives to bad band music] is nearly always written by someone who (a) is alive and collecting royalties, and (b) has a master's degree in music education. It is always preceded by a very wordy description, read out to the audience by way of preparation, explaining that the piece (a) was inspired by a medley of Lithuanian folk songs and Gregorian chants that the composer heard while researching his master's degree; or (b) depicts the journeys of Lewis and Clark and, if you listen carefully, you will hear the American Indian motif that represents the faithfulness and courage of their young Native American guide Sacagawea and then in the saxophones the sound of the rapids as the raft approaches and then the warning cry from one of the men on the bank and then the raft plunging down the rapids and then the return to calmer waters and then another set of rapids approaching and then. . . , or (c) evokes the soaring ideals we can all aspire to. (Pieces in this last category usually have "eagle" in their titles.) If I've heard That Piece once, I've heard it a hundred times. Different composers, different titles, same bombastic banality.

For example:

embeddence bombastic banality: Some piece of crap called "The Great Locomotive Chase"

Mr. Budiansky wonders why these bands don't play music he, or anybody else, has ever heard before? Or will ever hear again?

The closest thing I've heard to a real Sousa was a creation called "Sousa! Sousa! Sousa!" that (according to the publisher's description) "includes famous themes from 'Manhattan Beach' and 'El Capitan' along with just a hint of 'Semper Fidelis' and other Sousa favorites."

Although, he does concede...

I do understand the pedagogic purpose behind this stuff. Beethoven didn't have to come up with music scored for middle school bands made up of 57 alto saxophones, 40 trumpets, 15 percussionists and one oboe. Fair enough.

Fair enough.

Although, it seems that Mr. Budiansky's and I have slightly different tastes in music -- I wouldn't consider it a crime if Sousa's music was wiped from the face of this planet (save for the "Liberty Bell March", which is, of course, awesome) -- that doesn't detract from his larger point which is a good one.

How in the hell are we going to create a new generation of classical music lovers if they're forced to appreciate music solely through the examples of James Swearingen and W. Francis McBeth?

embeddence sousa: I will allow this.

As an interesting diversion his article is funny and contains plenty of good observations, but you'd hardly think it'd go any further than that.

Nope, Mr. Budiansky's comments received an outpouring of support from readers and members of the educational world. He then collaborated on a research article for the Journal of the World Association for Symphonic Bands and Ensembles (WASBE), with the director of the United States Marine Band to, as he puts it, "document the extent of the problem and how it has destroyed the musical education of a whole generation of children." Awesome.

figure gymnasium concert: The Sousa was sublime!

There's actually some nice research of "educational" music and it's failures, plus some interesting data of what is actually being performed by our middle and high school bands.

As result, Mr. Budiansky was asked to speak at the WASBE conference to elaborate and clarify his comments some. Drawing particular ire from Mr. Budiansky was the idea that all this crappy music was written for the benefit of the student.

I recently was sent a demo CD of Robert W. Smith’s “Symphony No. Three” and the description that accompanied it had literally nothing to do with music or art, and everything to do with marketing. It was all about how the solos are liberally cross-cued and how the final movement will “bring the audience to their feet.”

I should mention that Mr. Budiansky seems to particularly dislike the music of Robert W. Smith. It's really a running theme throughout all of his writing on the subject. I can't say that I blame him.

embeddence Robert W. Smith: It's about Don Quixote so, you know, it sounds Spanish-y.

And it was interesting to contrast this with Gunther Schuller’s description of his own recent composition for high school band. His description was all about his artistic goals and the challenge of maintaining his artistic objectives within the constraints of writing for middle-level players. He also stressed how he wanted to challenge students by making them responsible for their own parts—so no doubling and safety nets—and how he was breaking the supposed rules of school band music in doing so.

And we get to the heart of the issue in...
3...
2...
1...

And I thought how remarkably ironic, that a real composer with a reputation outside of the school music racket is writing a piece not only with more artistic merit but more educational value than the stuff produced by the writers who specialize in the education market. And of course what that really underscores is that the writers for the ed market don’t really care about education. They care about marketability, and that’s come down to getting “superior” ratings at contests with pieces that sound harder than they are; it comes down to pieces that are quote "safely cross cued” to cover up mistakes; it comes down to not challenging students with something that might expose their flubs; it comes down to appealing to the lowest common denominators of ignorance and surface flash to produce pieces with built in applause lines at the end and lots of percussion activity in the middle.

I couldn't agree with this more. Dead on assessment in my experience.

Which is why it went over about as well as lead balloon. This email from the President of WASBE worries that criticism of this music will offend publishers and cause WASBE to lose it's funding for its super important conference. Gasp!

-------------------------------------

The whole incident is, of course, amusing. Because it's always funny to mock crappy composers like Robert W. Smith. But really, I bring this discussion to Detritus because I believe, that like me, most of the readers here care desperately about maintaining and growing appreciation of music in future generations. What a complete wasteland our school music programs have become. School bands are populated by the very people in who engendering a love of music should be easy, but instead we force them to play shitty music and make stupid designs on football fields. As Mr. Budiansky points out, competitions have become the most important part of any school music program. And just how standardized tests have replaced an emphasis on critical thinking in general education curriculum, various "all-region" competitions have replaced any attempt to teach children about music in our music programs.

I once stood in front of class of 22 music majors at a large public university and played the opening of Beethoven's 5th Symphony (yes, the very very opening part) and asked the students to name the piece. Only two knew the answer. Holy fuck, before that I actually would have thought that impossible. It was actually a pretty depressing moment. Not that they should know that particular composition above any other (although, they really should), but that they really didn't know any music. At all. There are lots of people to blame, and school music programs are right at the top of the list. Seriously, it's their job to teach music, and Elliot Del Borgo doesn't even come close to making the short list -- or the long one.

embeddence worst band piece ever: Just because this is the worst band piece ever.

---------------------------

You can also find all the relevant links on Stephen Budiansky's personal webpage in a section he has humorously titled "The wonderful people who killed school music".

...Because "Baroque" Sounds Like "Broke," Get It? GET IT?

I swear to Cthulhu there must be a way to write catchy or clever titles for articles without using the stupidest, most obvious jokes possible. Somewhere there is a nascent academic field waiting to be born.

You see, up in Battle Creek, Michigan, a local man (or, at least, grandson of a local woman) was on a space shuttle mission to help repair the Hubble Telescope. Great! I am in favor of such endeavors. I'm not even opposed to programming a symphony concert around [loosely!] space-themed music to celebrate the occasion--on the condition that it's not full of stupid.

I am, however, opposed to tongue-scrapingly idiotic titles. For instance:

Symphony season blasts off with cosmic concert

[Lori Holcomb, Battle Creek Enquirer, October 22, 2009]

Really?

(Hey, did you hear the one about why Bach didn't have any money?)

Also, although clearly classical audiences are changing and need to get bigger, is "theme night at the symphony" really the cleverest idea available? That's like "casual Friday" or "dress-like-a-hobo day" in it's conceptual and innovative brilliance.

Figure 1: Jeans...and buttons! At work!? Hilarious. Paradigms...breaking down...

So often, oh, so often I've bemoaned that symphony concerts aren't frequently enough organized with as much conceptual aplomb as a frat party.

In celebration of the space industry and the 40th anniversary of the moon landing, the Battle Creek Symphony Orchestra will feature photos taken by the Hubble Telescope and cosmos-inspired music at its season opener Saturday.

See? That seems fair enough. Surely they're not going with Holst, though. That'd be way too obvious. I mean...

Titled "Planet Thunder," the concert will feature popular works such as Holst's "The Planets,"

Well, I mean...I guess you kind of have to. Sigh, fair enough. What else?

Strauss' theme from the movie "2001: A Space Odyssey"...

What. There are so many things wrong with that. It's hard to know where to begin.

Figure 2: Battle Creek Cultural Ambassador and Assistant Director for Clever Programming for the Battle Creek Symphony Orchestra

Later in the article, previewing [portending?] things to come:

For lovers of classical music, "Fallen Heroes" on March 27 will pay tribute to those who have died in battle.

For everyone else, it'll just be a bunch of notes and shit.

To wit:

From extraterrestrial images to fiery Celtic concertos, [music director Anne] Harrigan said the 2009-2010 season is designed to attract new audience members while hopefully pleasing loyal attendees.

Yeah. A careful reading of that sentence reveals that the goal is "to attract new audience members" while "hopefully" keeping the old ones, yes?

Figure 3: Fail Salad

A few more entries in our continuing GREAT REVIEW TITLES series

You know, as the title says.

Titles are hard...we get that. But every so often a critic (or editor, as it may be) makes a truly special effort to succinctly capture the magic of the live concert-going experience.

First up, from the Times-Herald Record, the direct approach:

Review: Greater Newburgh Symphony Orchestra in Newburgh

Exactly. I feel like I was there.

...in Newburgh.

Also in Newburgh...

figure culture: Thank you American Idol.

Next, from the Houston Chronicle, we have the ridiculous pun:

Symphony Review: Rite a riot of orchestral color

Har har har. You see, because there was a riot at the original premiere a hundred years ago. Priceless.

Whew!

My sentiments exactly.

No riots broke out at Jones Hall on Friday night as maestro Hans Graf led the Houston Symphony in Stravinsky’s explosive The Rite of Spring — in contrast to the legendary ruckus unleashed at the work’s 1913 premiere in Paris.

Maybe it was more of a quiet riot?

figure cum on feel the noize: Mama weer all crazee now.

Later...

Later dramatic bursts proved quite formidable,...

To what? Napping?

...between the slashing strings, pounding percussion, blaring brass and woodwinds that wailed and keened.

Just once I would like my string blaring, woodwinds pounding, brass slashing and percussion that keened.

Even with no dance element, this rendition of the score made it clear something wild, violent and vital was happening.

Send the women and children to safety!

Well, pagan fertility rites are not for hidebound suburbanites.

This is so true.

And lastly, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution demonstrates how you really explain a metaphor.

ASO plays new music, familiar Beethoven on fire

On fire? The musicians were on fire while playing new music and familiar Beethoven?

For long stretches, the orchestra was playing on fire.

Okay. They were on fire.

Was it something like this?

figure on fire: If only Beethoven had lived to see this.

So, clearly "on fire" is a metaphor. But what exactly was on fire -- they were playing great? Everything was coming together beautifully?

It wasn't a radically different interpretation, in terms of tempos, phrasing and balances, such as the prominence given to inner voices.

Hmmm. Interesting, but I'm still not totally clear. How about an analogy to help explain the metaphor?

But like a racing yacht that accumulates an advantage in a regatta by sailing a hair closer to the wind, Knussen delivered a remarkably intense reading by trimming the orchestral sails just taut enough to drive momentum forward, just loose enough that there was never a hint of anxiety or strain or excessive loudness.

And then the orchestra caught fire...just like most racing yachts.

He had us believing that the slow second movement was about the most unexpectedly interesting work Beethoven even composed -- intelligent, loving and always deeply musical.

But, of course, we knew better.

Post hoc ergo propter hoc - Great Music Edition, Part II

Welcome to the second part of our look at what passes for journalism at Film Music Magazine.

Guest Editorial: Is Film Music Great?
John Graham, Film Music Magazine, September 8, 2010

Continuing from where we left off, Mr. Graham had just finished establishing that the academia has colluded to repress any acceptance of enjoyment as a measure of piece's greatness. Furthermore, he contends that great music comes not from within the soul of a composer, but from the impetus to please the person paying the bills.

He now continues pondering scorched earth trailing behind these maniacal academics.

Where Has the Insular Elite Left the Arts?

In shambles, I'm sure. It's really a miracle that there remains a culture that could still produce musical geniuses like Eminem and Lady Gaga.

So what is the result of the “insular elite” seizing the helm and steering the arts?

There's that word...elite. So much antipathy for elites, what with their medical and technical breakthroughs, contributions to building governments and societies and their endless philosophical and artistic contributions to culture.

For answer, I look to the marketplace.

Marketplace answer? It's done wonders for the economy, so I can only assume that it will do wonderfully in helping us to determine which music is truly great.

How busy are concert halls?

According to the League of American Symphonies, very busy.

How many poetry magazines are there today?

Good question. Just a quick search of the Google turned up Poetry (in publication since 1912), Conversation, Oxford Poetry, 32 Poems, The Gettysburg Review, Shit Creek Review, The American Poetry Review, Poetry London, Mezzo Cammin, Two Tone, Untide Press, and several others. But that's not as many as are dedicated to celebrity gossip, so I get your point.

How many people, even the educated, feel free to like or dislike a work of art or a piece of music without reference to whether it’s on some “approved” list?

You shouldn't speak ill of the Authority if you care for your safety. I had a friend once who hated Webern's Symphony, op. 21. They crab canoned him within an inch of his life. Really, I've said too much.

Are scalpers charging $400 a ticket to any symphonic concerts?

Well, since we're into conjecture, I assume anecdotal evidence should suffice as an answer to your question. I once saw Citizen Kane for free at a film festival, and I paid $100 a ticket to see Britney Spears when I was in college...(yeah, I saw Britney Spears...twice! She was Lady Gaga before Lady Gaga was Lady Gaga, and sometime after Madonna was Lady Gaga.)

Anyway, you're a film composer, has anyone scalped tickets, for any price, to a concert of your music?

By the way, what's your point? You do realize that it's sort of stupid to equate how much people pay for something with its intrinsic value, right?

Does one feel susceptible to being made a fool of if one expresses dislike of, or bewilderment with, a piece of art only to learn that, say, the V&A paid millions for it because it had been approved by critics as “groundbreaking?”

Depends, am I disliking the piece for good, well-founded reasons, and am I basing my opinion on 'just because'?

You do realize you're only a fool if you express dislike but don't have any reason to support your opinion, right?

Does the announcement of new works of the sort championed by academics excite anticipation or, instead, a desire to flee?

We are certainly getting far afield from the original question of "what makes music great", and even further from "is film music great".

But the desire to flee based on an announcement sounds dangerously close to prejudiced. You're not prejudiced, are you, John? You know pre-judging a work before you've heard it.

I think we know the answers to all these questions.

We do? How convenient that your singular set of experiences have provided all of us with answers to these questions.

Few people, even among the educated, anticipate with pleasure new music, poetry or art, and I place the blame squarely on the Academy’s failure in leadership.

And those few people really don't count. By all rights, we should marginalize and belittle them for their stupid and very wrong opinions.

How about a history lesson to help us understand how we got to this awful state of the arts?

The history of this debacle goes back at least 50 years.

For clarification's sake, the debacle we're discussing is that people write music you don't like, right?

Championing a combination of what, by around 1945 or 1950, had become a rigid and almost unassailable “canon” of Approved Old Guys, plus a more recent crop of dissertation-ready music, with its systems to analyze, structural rigour, and harmonic ideas rooted not in enjoyment but physics or some other realm of intellectual novelty, The Academy ground the fun and natural enjoyment out of new music so that by now we see the legacy in too many empty concert halls and a feverish urge, even among regular concert-goers, to hasten away from any music labeled “modern.”

Damn, that's one hell of a sentence you've got there, John. I was hesitant to interrupt such a beautiful, rambling mess. But ultimately, I think that's a pretty good summary of what the ignorant think happened in classical music over the past 50 years.

How is that good for music?

I guess it wouldn't be good for music. But you know, John, there's one aspect to this whole editorial-thing that you should be aware of -- just because you say it, doesn't make it so.

Generalized statements based on purely speculative evidence about music over the past 50 years doesn't make for a compelling argument. Well, unless you went to Arizona State.

However, if you were to have some examples to support your argument...do you, John, have any examples?

Hasn’t the same contempt toward popular work produced the same scorched earth seen in many of the arts? Serious poetry,...

Serious poetry is popular?

...to take one example, has been relegated to oblivion nearly everywhere in the West. Young people look for thoughtful art that can help them make sense of their crazy lives, and find it only at iTunes.

There's serious poetry on iTunes? And young people look for thoughtful art? Is Jersey Shore considered thoughtful art?

Meanwhile, academically-sponsored art itself seems engaged in extended seppuku, crabbed and tangled with explicit and implicit rules for art that surely throttle the natural creative impulse.

Seriously, you're going to need to give me an example. How is music produced in academic circles committing suicide? Just because you don't listen to it? Or is it financial suicide? Should they charge more for their music?

And furthermore, why do you care if academic composers have committed suicide? I thought your point was that great music doesn't come from academia, but from music-for-hire situations?

How likely is Great Art to appear from the hand of the average professor-composer suffering a full teaching load, with time to write at most a 20-40 minute piece in an entire academic year that he or she knows will be subjected to some kind of analytic scrutiny instead of just heard and liked, or not-liked?

I don't know...very likely? How about this John -- you can listen to the piece and just like it or not like it, and all those evil academics can analyze it to death. Then you can tell that composer your gut-based opinion, and if the composer survived the savage raping from the other academics, I'm sure he'll thank you.

Plus, how dare that professor have a full-time job and try to compose. What a fucking loser, needing healthcare and a steady paycheck. Not to mention the fact that they might actually enjoy teaching.

Should we add the criterion that great art is only created by those without families or other sources of income?

Real composers sell their music because it's awesome, and don't need outside work, right? I mean it's not like Mozart or Beethoven ever taught students. Pssh.

How likely is Great Art to appear from a composer-in-residence whose main obligation is to generate music that the faculty and / or the committee approving his re-appointment will prize?

How is composing music for a faculty or committee any different from writing music for a paying client? I'm assuming that he took this job because it paid him a salary, right? Is just that you object to any opinion that has a basis?

Fuck me, John. Did a composer with a pipe and tweed jacket kill your family when you were a child?

My guess is not too likely.

I'm glad you're guessing. Because, fuck, if you actually had any support for your claims, I'd suggest we torch every school of music around this country and end the madness.

I am not sure whether a film composer has or will overcome the shortcomings and pressure of the medium, and produce something so good that “they would not willingly let it die.”

Who is "they"?

It’s very early to be sure what, in 50 or 200 years, will still be admired. But I’d bet that commerce, over time,...

Fuck me, Nostradamus, but didn't you just get done telling us exactly what music won't be remembered?

...will beat the products funded by the “difficult and dense” school of composing or The Committee To Destroy All Arts Via Committee.

Who funds that committee?

But, nevermind. I'm with you, let's get rid of The Committee to Destroy All Arts Via Committee. They sound like an awful committee. Plus, they have a stupid name.

Ironically, the result of decades of strenuous efforts of critics seeking to guard us from low-brow music is that the overwhelming majority of new orchestral music is produced for media, rather than the concert hall. Of all orchestral music written in the last 20 years, what proportion was written for film and TV? 90 percent? 99?

Seriously, John, you and I are totally pals. But, come on, that's a pretty lame argument.

Did you know that over 99% of all the basketball played in this country doesn't happen in the NBA? Clearly, that means the best players aren't in the NBA, statistically speaking, of course.

I am willing to place my bets there, in music-for-hire, rather than any Milton Babbitt or Luciano Berio or other composer whose work is so dense and difficult that it requires an instruction manual, or “historical perspective,” or decades of study to appreciate.

Instructional manual...classic.

But, John,you've been so incredibly open-minded and inclusive thus far, you're not really going to argue that music that is complex is lesser than simple music? Well, that might make you look like a judgmental asshole, and I don't want your powerful message to be lost.

So what's wrong with music that requires study or "historical perspective"?

Who has the time?

Oh, I get it, you're a busy guy. Well, I have the time. But what does that say about you...you're a composer and you don't have the time to listen to music? Possibly broaden your musical horizons? Or was your understanding of music perfectly formed when you were 12 or 14?

But now I'm being judgmental. I'm sure that you have a perfectly valid reason for thinking that complex music has nothing to offer you...

I listened at age 12 or 14...

Good, an anecdote from the early teen years...the most reasonable and thoughtful years of most people's lives.

...for the first time to Beethoven’s third symphony, and that was it – instant admiration, astonishment; powerful feelings of all sorts, with no study, no manual.

Good for you. You "just liked" it, therefore the piece is great. But...

I just had a thought, John. What if you hadn't liked the piece on the first listening, how many more chances would you have given the piece, or does it always have to be "instant admiration"? There was a chance that you would have decided that Beethoven's Third Symphony wasn't (gasp!) any good. And then what would we have done?

Or is it that no one could have not have liked that piece on first listening without, you know, being wrong?

And while that instant recognition of something you want to hear again is naturally not be the only criterion for greatness,...

I'm glad to hear that you recognize the highly subjective nature of your example...however, I sense a 'but' coming.

...the academics’ near-automatic rejection of such instant delight, to me, is a sure sign of a institution that has missed the forest for the trees.

Academics reject liking a piece upon first listening? You must know some really shitty academics. I mean, who rejects unquantifiable, bullshit emotions from tweens as a standard measure of the greatness of a piece of music? Fuck.

Popularity is Not Enough

Yes, we know, it also had to make money.

Lest a misunderstanding emerge,...

Yes, lest a misunderstanding emerge.

...I think it important to emphasize that I don’t equate popularity with artistic merit.

Just money, right? And that people have to "just like" it.

The one does not automatically grant the other.

Yes, but you've argued that someone has to like the piece. So, how many people must like a piece of music for it be considered great art? Or is it more a percentage thing?

Can a single person like a piece, and it still be great?

I know, I know, I'm taking your argument to the furthest extremes. I hate when I do that. But, in my defense, it's only because your argument is so completely without any merit whatsoever.

But, I am saying that it remains widely fashionable to assume that there can be no connection between the two, to dismiss in horror even the consideration of the artistic merits of anything that actually is popular.

So let me get this straight, you just said that popularity doesn't equate with artistic merit. But if someone else were to say that popularity doesn't contribute a work's artistic merit, they're wrong?

I'm wondering, if it does matter whether a piece is popular, what would it mean if a composer were to compose a piece of music specific not to be popular!?

Even worse, a healthy proportion of scholar-composers actively seek to offend or displease an audience, even trying to out-do each other in driving audiences up a wall.

And this is wrong, of course. How should we punish them?

I have seen reviews chortling about how some piece made members of the audience leave, and what a success that was.

Why is that you value one emotional response more than another? Should all paintings be of bunnies and pastorals? No photographs other than sunsets and couples grinning stupidly at Disneyland? Should every novel/movie have a happy ending?

Tell me, John, what my music should sound like so as not to offend people.

A New York Times piece by an active composer repeated the now taken-for-granted saw that, without offending someone, a piece couldn’t possibly have any artistic value or be considered daring and new.

Don't worry, your biased paraphrasing of their argument is more than fair. Please don't provide any context or actual quotation.

To me it is nonsense to link the two; and not merely harmless nonsense. Indeed, it has had the pernicious effect of driving ever more people away from new music.

And what do you care? I'm getting the feeling that you don't really care for, or have the time, for new music.

But you are entitled to your opinion. You may be very right on this point.

Of course one has to acknowledge that it’s possible to write something that upsets some people but that, nevertheless, has real artistic merit.

One does? Why should one acknowledge that? It's not like we're ever going to listen to any piece like that...we already know, without hearing the piece, that it sucks -- for many previously established reasons.

But it’s equally possible that such pieces are merely sophomoric, irritating bilge.

It's equally possible? Equal as in 50-50? I like those odds quite a bit. So, one out of every two pieces that seems to upset some people has artistic merit. If only pop and film music could have such a success rate.

So why do you have so much antipathy for this music? Seriously, what the fuck gives?

It may be that a great new work will offend, but offense doesn’t guarantee greatness.

Got it. Just like popularity doesn't guarantee greatness. So why are you ranting against this music and the people who write it?

Just because audience members storm out does not mean one has written “Le Sacre du Printemps.”

But, of course, academics think this, because they are so easily confused by audience members leaving during the performance that they cease to have any control of their own personal judgment or standards.

Yep, they go to every concert with a checklist in hand:

• Weird chords -- check
• Offensive sounds -- check
• Has interesting but clearly irrelevant "historical perspective" -- check
• Can only be understood with instructional manual (which is purposefully not given to non-academic audience members) -- check
• Audience members left in a huff -- check
• Great Music? -- Double check!

Has the Academic Tide Turned?

Yes?

Clearly, film departments at universities...

Oh, yeah. This editorial was about whether film music is great art. I nearly forgot in the midst of all your unsubstantiated academic bashing.

...have grown in number and accreted a degree of respect.

So, universities aren't all bad. At least the parts that validate what you do for living. And not those snooty concert composers and their music that hates audiences.

And even a cursory glance at the titles of books and papers reveals that academics are directing meaningful energy at popular music. Serious work appears about Wagner and Copland, to be sure, but also about James Brown and Eminem.

Well, they are musical geniuses, too. But I'm confused. You were upset when these academics were writing books and papers about music you don't like, but now because it's about artists who you do like, you're commending them?

Should we boil down all academic pursuits to whether or not you agree with them? Based on the infallible nature of your arguments in this editorial, I say yes!

Even heavy metal music gets attention, along with practically every area of jazz, barbershop quartet, Stephen Sondheim’s musicals – unquestionably there is meaningful energy spent on popular works nowadays.

But Stephen Sondheim musicals are shitty. I thought the goal was for them to only write about musical geniuses. right?

Or are you saying that Sondheim is a musical genius? Fuck, if you're saying that, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to take back all the nice things I've said about you.

Even so, these papers and compositions seem written for and largely consumed by peers only.

Which means they shouldn't exist and the people who wrote them should probably just die.

In some cases, it is clear that they are stuck applying traditional yardsticks to validate the music they are examining, and that the pieces’ or composers’ quality is in those circumstances measured by the degree to which their music uses analyzable structures or techniques.

This would seem to be a great place for an example. But I watch Fox News too, conjecture is as close to fact as most Americans care about anyway. Carry on.

In other cases, the titles of these efforts appear to tangle the music with social or other non-musical issues. Phrases in a few titles such as, “the Musicological Skin Trade,” or “Charles Ives and Gender Ideology,” can’t help but make one wonder whether academic legitimacy, when writing about popular music, derives in those cases more from the music itself, or the reliably meaty arena of sociology.2

And your point? What if it does veer into sociology? If Ives' music is sexist does that make your music any less great?

Unless this is some sort of personal vendetta against higher learning in the arts, I'm wondering what your point is? Why do you want the approval of people you obviously despise?

As a result, it is not clear whether such music is taken seriously, or is serving mainly as an as-yet-unexhausted topic for a paper or book to be read by other academics.

So sociology isn't to be taken seriously? Damn, is there anybody with a brain of whom you aren't skeptical?

I have been told that Jane Austen initially wrote primarily for her family and friends, in order to entertain and divert them. Whether apocryphal or not, that desire – to entertain and divert – needs to be rehabilitated from decades of condescension and contempt if we are going to reinvigorate the concert repertoire, attract an excited new audience to concert music, and restore a positive link between music as it is actually practiced and the halls of academe.

Way to claim something that you have yet to establish that no one disagrees with -- well, other than your fictional dastardly sociologist posing as a professor of music.

Who knows whether any particular composer in the popular sphere is producing works that anyone will value in 100 years?

Simon Cowell?

What we can say, I think, is that most music which today we consider great, including that of Beethoven or Bach, was created for some fairly prosaic purpose – a church service, a feast day, an opera with a plot hastily hashed together, a concert on such and such a date.

To quote one of our readers, this is a "hot mess of something."

But let me try to follow, you wrote earlier that it didn't matter to you what the motivation was behind the composition of a piece of music. But, by proximity, you make the implication that music for commonplace occasions might make a piece valuable in 100 years. Am I close?

Of course, some commissions were spurred by coronations and other Great Occasions as well, but anyway, when the message came in, “we need some music” I assume it wasn’t “we need music that will Stand The Test Of Time,” but “we need music that The Guy Paying For It Will Like.”

And this makes a piece better? Are you just guessing that this is true? In any case, let me write back to you your own words:

It doesn’t matter to me...what the purpose of the writing is, whether it’s a lofty goal or, by contrast, a desire to impress a girlfriend / boyfriend, trying to make money, escaping a soul-destroying job alternative, rivalry with other composers / band-mates, seeking everlasting greatness, or sheer vanity.

So why would writing a piece for posterity or to please a patron matter? Can you see the contradiction?

It saddens me, both for composers and audiences, to picture the tortured, narrow channel into which composers seeking concert performances have been forced by critics and other cerebrals. Over many years, this has generated a catastrophic rupture between new music and audiences. We need to reset our criteria for selecting Important New Music so that it no longer seems explicitly to ignore anything likely to excite / interest / move / entertain or otherwise please an audience.

I think we're all with you on this. Why all these universities and music organizations explicitly ignore exciting and interesting music is beyond me.

With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict, and bring order to the galaxy arts world.

Or were you only speaking about music which you find interesting and exciting?

The scribbling tribe has for decades behaved as though determined to crush any compositional impulse that might be recognizable as something that might originally have motivated the production of composers like Bach or Beethoven. That should end.

Sure, what the hell. Consider it ended.

I hope that the symptoms in academia reflect a tide that has turned decisively, and that we will therefore eventually see an embrace by concert halls of music (and poetry and art) that audiences would enthusiastically pay to experience. Imagine what, say, James Newton Howard might produce for the concert hall if he were to receive the sponsorship of someone influential in that arena?

If James Newton Howard were to ever give any evidence that he could write good music, that would be a interesting experiment.

In the mean time, I believe film and game music, for good or ill, has replaced symphonies, opera and church music – the mainstays of former times. And, if one accepts that idea, I believe that if we are to see great music written in our own time, it will be in media where we find the bulk of it.

And by replaced you mean not replaced, right? Because, you know there still are symphonies, operas, and tons of churches with music every Sunday morning.

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Since Mr. Graham didn't really bother to engage his original question of whether or not film music is great art, I shall also ignore it, other than to say, that there's no reason it can't be great. There is lots of wonderful music written for film, and I would have enjoyed a thoughtful discussion of how film music stands on its own against concert music. Too bad.

So, we're back to the question of who gets to judge the music -- the critics and academics, or the unindoctrinated masses? Well, in my experience, I've never understood this dichotomy. This is a false choice. Both are free to pass judgment in any way they want. Critics and academics like to use knowledge, history, theory, circumstantial and direct evidence (musical and extra-musical) to form a complete picture of a piece of music. And by contrast, there are people like John who like to use their gut. Both are effective methods, except when it comes to wanting to know more than whether someone liked a piece.

John Graham's big mistake here, besides not consulting an editor, is that he starts with the question of whether film music is great, and then never bothers to engage that question meaningfully. Instead, he chooses to take the position that it is great (or at least that it most likely is), and the only reason most people don't realize this is due to the institutional dismissal of all music-for-hire. Mr. Graham relies on ad hominem attacks against academia, and a series of logical fallacies to support this position, not once providing any support for his (unstated) thesis that film music is great (or should be thought so by academics). He appeals to emotion, to popularity, and to spite -- all of which are classic errors in reasoning.

Of course, as is most often the case, his opinions are easily ignored since he offers nothing more than unsubstantiated attacks. However, the harm is that this sort of ill-conceived, childish argument perpetuates a commonplace misunderstanding of music. A misconception that music owes something to us. That when we don't like a piece of music, it has done us wrong, and the composers have lost their way. While everyone is always free to like or not like any piece of music, that music has no obligations to you. Music doesn't have to make you happy, please you, provide you with emotional catharsis, or look or sound like anything. In fact, it doesn't even have to try and be popular. Rather than investigate why all these critics and academics may advocate for a certain composer or piece, Mr. Graham assumes that he already knows everything, and therefore all the critics and academics must be wrong. It's this sort of ego that will always keep ears closed, and music a stagnant, historical object.

However, that's obviously not the way Mr. Graham sees it. He accuses academics of having the egotistical view of music by ignoring pure enjoyment. There's essentially no response to that sort claim since his argument is based on a alternate view of reality. He doesn't understand the mission of academia, nor the difference between subjective and objective thought.

Furthermore, such points of view only serve to reemphasize the stereotypes that new music is something to be feared, and that academics have no relation to the outside world. Mr. Graham's suggestion that great music should provide "instant admiration" is a childish notion. A notion that only serves to show that he can't speak intelligently about music.

As Milton Babbit wrote, "he also will offer reasons for his 'I didn't like it' - in the form of assertions that the work in question is 'inexpressive,' 'undramatic,' 'lacking in poetry,' etc., etc., tapping that store of vacuous equivalents hallowed by time for: 'I don't like it, and I cannot or will not state why.'"

Classical music, by its nature, is a sophisticated form, which doesn't lend itself to "instant admiration" -- although, it certainly might. Like some things in this world, it may take a second or third listening to fully appreciate the artistry in a piece of music.

With regard to academics, well...fuck. I'm not sure what to tell a person who objects to studying an art form. Mr. Graham basic assertion that professors reject the relative "enjoyment" given a piece of music is both bullshit, and sort of true (although, not in the way he suggests). Music professors also love music (at least many do). But like with any serious, academic discussion, one's opinions and emotions are not qualitative measures. Even though Beethoven symphonies all easily surpass the required 33.7 Enjoyment Units (EUs) to be acknowledged as great music, it's just not an aspect of Beethoven symphonies that interest academics.

With just a small amount of training, the spectrum of music opens up, and as a result some ubiquitous forms of music can become increasingly plain and uninteresting. They offer no surprises nor originality, and sometimes as a result are rather boring. However, there is music out there that is full of depth and complexity which can be appealing....new music. Despite Mr. Graham's insinuation that academia forces this music upon these students and professors, it's actually a pretty natural and easy to understand phenomenon.

However, I am not arguing that more complex music is superior to less complicated music. It's not. Neither one is good nor bad based on the virtue of its relative complexity. To borrow from Ecclesiastes and pop psychology, there is a time and place for all types of music. So pardon us if we don't feel the need to capitulate our standards to your shallow vision of what music is, and should be.