Showing posts with label David Hurwitz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Hurwitz. Show all posts

7/27/09

Consume Your Symptom!

“Never mind my fruit comes from Chile, as long as it’s cheap and tastes good” is but one particular kind of consumer glut: the “out of sight, out of mind” theory, adopted for its vividness last year by the International Counsel for Responsible Spending (Icarus).* In their most recent publication, Icarus named several other kinds of similar negligent spending attitudes (most dealing with transportation, i.e., oil), which, according to their research, accounts for a great deal of international animosity towards America. The “blind” and voracious nature of American consumerism has led to many international conflicts involving resources, territory and military action.

Countries have thus compared America to the Roman Empire, whose glut was best exemplified by gross exhibitions of wealth, like the gladiatorial contests of the Coliseum (also Colosseum). The Colosseum played host to many spectacles, most notably Emperor Trajan’s lavish celebration of his victories in Dacia (107 A.D.), which involved “11,000 animals and 10,000 gladiators over the course of 123 days.”

Yeah. But what does this have to do with critiquing critics?

[John Corigliano’s Third Symhpony], "Circus Maximus", promises to be fun: Corigliano compares the decadent ancient Roman entertainment district to our modern glut of cable television channels and reality TV.

I’ll let David Hurwitz explain:

My only wish is that Corigliano didn't take himself quite so seriously: to equate the slaughter and mayhem of Roman entertainment to, say, the Real Housewives of New Jersey surely is pushing the comparison too far.

I dunno. Parading wealthy women bumbling through life on television for all to laugh at is pretty ghastly.


Figure 1. Training kids to buy oil (and it’s fun!)

Anyway, political/allegorical/satirical pieces are nothing new. So what’s the problem? That Corigliano’s too serious? Or is it that music is ultimately supposed to be pleasurable and not challenging?

Moreover, it runs the risk of sounding snobbish (not the music, the [program] notes).

I think it’s safe to say that “classical” music connoisseurs are already kinda snobbish. So I’m sure no one will mind.

Remember, when Ives did this sort of thing it was the popular tunes and other found objects that he was celebrating, and the classical tradition that he was thumbing his nose at (with good reason).

Not to be ignored, he also had a very healthy streak of political derision and sarcasm. Goddamned thieves?

Anyway, that's not really important: what matters is that this is good music whatever its inspiration...

And if Corigliano is being a bit provocative, it's never at the expense of your basic enjoyment.

Without pulling out the whole Zizek-jouissance thing, we’ve come to another, yet equally problematical paradox.

It seems that the guy pitching (critiquing) “serious” music is also the guy who doesn’t want it to be too serious—“above all it must be enjoyable.” So, those very program notes, which are gravely imperative to understanding the piece, are cast aside by the author in favor of “blind” enjoyment. This, in turn, results in positive advocacy—the music critic’s equivalent of buying fruit from Chile.

*Icarus is wholly fictional.
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3/17/09

Dogma

True and false, black and white, right and wrong, good and bad. What do these oppositions all have in common? They are dangerously dogmatic and assume metaphysical absolutes.

And you know who deals in absolutes?

















Figure 1: A Sith Lord? (hat tip to Say No to Crack)

My money’s on David Hurwitz:

These are musical facts that can't be avoided. [it. mine]

...referring to the Brandenburg Concerti.

[Where], the presence of a full-bodied tutti only highlights more effectively the contrast between solo and orchestral episodes and encourages a wider range of dynamic shading (those "terraced" dynamics can be even more "terraced").

...in opposition to the release of a one-to-a-part, period chamber music approach.

(Does anyone remember the recent, infamous stir caused by a British conductor, who decided to eliminate vibrato from an Elgar piece? Well, no one died as a result.)

Granted, period music does seem to assert some intellectual superiority, but who cares? What kind of music connoisseur landscape have we cultivated where we get so pissed off by such small details, where we cannot tolerate different interpretations, where opinions turn to facts, truths, the right way to do things? I seem to remember several recent wars caused by proselytizing opinions as facts (relationship to David’s review exaggerated, but still).

Listen, “a full-bodied tutti” may “more effectively” highlight grosso and dynamic contrast, but you’ll never get that in writing from four out of five doctors. Know why? Because it depends on what you are trying to highlight, which could be any number of things. This means that “effectively” becomes a questionable opinion, not an absolute fact.
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1/19/09

The Ever-Grumpy Crumpie

Fox News is something of an odd interest of mine. Their brazenly argumentative style and ass-kissing provides much unintended humor for my masochistic sensibilities. I mean, who could keep a straight face when, instead of calling the recession a recession, they call it an “economic tsunami?” That’s sure to elicit the kind of viewer response for which I’m sure they’re aiming. But I find it so grossly transparent, it becomes funny. Still, their slogan, however trampled upon it may be, is composed of ideals fundamental to the notion of a free press: Fair and Balanced. That is, biased reporting tends to distort and deceive; fair and balanced reporting, on the other hand, allows us to make informed decisions.

Now, in Music Criticland this becomes somewhat complicated, where opinions, not facts, are the precious commodity. Unfortunately, opinions come with a certain amount of bias, impinging negatively on the tenets of fairness and balance, which can distort the reader’s impressions or decision-making abilities. If I were to say, “This review is about a genius named Bach—oh, by the way, Telemann was an abominable fucktard,” could anyone take me seriously? An opinion like that is so irrationally vindictive, so incredibly devoid of informative context that only a mother could refuse to spit on it. Conversely, if I had said, “This is a review about a genius named Bach, whose reputation in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was lesser than his now oft-shunned contemporary, Telemann,” then, one, my tone is civil (a rhetorical virtue) and, two, I am now charged with the task of substantiating my claim. It’s a win-win for everyone: I don’t sound like an ass and the reader can expect an informed opinion. Even though critics deal in opinions, there are ways to be intelligent, informative and responsible, i.e., otherwise fair and balanced. Simple, right?

Well, for the boys over at ClassicsToday.com, it is the most daunting task, especially when they have to deal with "non-melodic music"—I’d like to talk at length about how stupid that term is, but I’ll save it for another time. Here, George Crumb escapes their non-melodic wrath:

A few years ago I had the great privilege (in cooperation with Becky and David Starobin of Bridge records) of presenting George Crumb with a "Lifetime Achievement Award" at the Cannes Classical Awards, which were held at the MIDEM trade show in France.

That’s a lot of name-dropping. Just get on with it.

After the ceremony there was a dinner for the honorees, and George quickly amassed a small band of young composer/admirers.

Just for the record, Crumb groupies are popularly known as Crumpies.

One of these, anxious to display his avant-garde credentials, asked George who he personally enjoyed listening to, and rather presumptuously suggested a few of his own favorites as politically correct examples...

If they were indeed his favorites, then why would he need to hedge? He wouldn't.

(led off--if memory serves...

David doesn’t quite remember, so keep in mind he could be pulling this out of his ass.

(led off--if memory serves--by the atrociously untalented Salvatore Sciarrino).

And, unnecessarily, Telemann was a fucktard!

















Fig.1. Salvatore Sciarrino
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9/11/08

The Most Dangerous Ding Dong

Here’s one of our favorites, David Hurwitz, on a new recording of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony:

Having enjoyed David Zinman's Mahler cycle to date, I came to this release with high expectations. What a disappointment! This is a lame, undercharacterized performance. It has one thing going for it: a nice clarity to the string counterpoint (and this work has lots of it), but this is a purely technical issue since emotional expression seems not to be high on Zinman's list of priorities. The opening funeral march is about as flat-footed as they come. Its two big outbursts don't so much climax as simply fizzle. This "wet noodle" approach positively kills the second movement. Could anyone call the opening "vehement", as Mahler demands, or is it simply neat as a pin? At nearly 19 minutes the scherzo sags badly well before its quiet central section. The adagietto is pretty (when is it not?), and the finale has the most string counterpoint and so bounces along reasonably well; but the final chorale has the weakest brass playing on disc combined with a tempo that starts off too fast but winds up too slow. The ample acoustic further blunts the music's impact.

Positively scathing. But, David’s not done yet!

The most dangerous thing about this whole production is the cover...

Hmmm. Dangerous cover. Hmmm? What could he possibly be talking about? What could possibly be dangerous AND on the cover? I suppose if the cover was laced with arsenic, then it could be dangerous. Or if the cover was fabricated out of used needles, then it could be dangerous.

This just doesn’t make sense, though. He must be talking about an image. So what image could possibly be dangerous?

(possibly the first full-frontal male nude to grace a Mahler symphony album).

Oh. A penis. A ding dong. How stupid of me (slaps forehead with palm).










Figure 1. Paleolithic police sketch artist's rendering of suspect album cover.
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6/28/08

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly Review

I have nothing but angry, rage-filled, contemptuous, derogatory words for this pile of ignorance and self-righteousness, this loathsome, pea-brained, and (yes) uneducated attempt to...

...Whoa there!! Calm down, Empiricus.

(deep breath) You’re right. I was about to lose it. Thanks.

Don’t mention it.

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Let’s start over. But this time, try to say something nice every time David Hurwitz makes you mad.

Sure, I’ll try to say something nice every time David Hurwitz pisses me off to the point where I very nearly jump up, run out to the shed and fire up the chainsaw so I can...

...Cool it, you!

(deep breath) Thanks again, Empiricus.

Let’s give this a try, shall we?

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Schoenberg's 12-tone music...

Good work, so far, David!

Oh, now you’re just being silly. Just try to be nice. Okay?

Okay.

Schoenberg's 12-tone music has the undeserved reputation of being unusually difficult, at least to the extent that his tonal music is, if anything, just as knotty and uncompromising.

(pauses, thinks) Such things have been said before. (takes deep breath) Whether or not they're true...well. Good start, anyway.

Not bad, Empiricus. Keep going.

Even so...

That is synonymous with, “despite that fact.”

See, Empiricus? I haven’t said anything bad.

Good work.

I know. I'm cool like that.

Even so, the Violin Concerto is notorious for standing among the ugliest pieces of music ever conceived by the human mind...

(stares in disbelief) David has...(deep breath)...a right to...say things. (looks for stress ball)

Very good, Empiricus. Go on.

...but below the surface there's a lot of brilliant and (yes) expressive invention going on.

I might say that they’re also on the surface. Either way, that’s a kind of compliment, David.

How’d I do, Empiricus?

You’re doing well. Let’s see if you can keep it up!

I’ll try.

The only question is how hard you, the listener, feel like working, and how much the performance rewards your time and effort.

(Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep Breath)

Stay focused, Empiricus.

(Deep breath)

Let’s just move on. Shall we?

(Deep breath)

The first recording that "did it" for me was the Craft/Schulte version on Koch; but this one is even finer...

I’m glad you...liked the recording...?

...and not just because it knocks about four minutes off the overall timing of the piece.

Fff...!!

Hold it right there partner! Let’s take a breather. Go have a smoke.

Yeah. I need a smoke.

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(5 minutes later)

If you're just taking the plunge, start with the finale.

Oh, come on you can’t seriously...

(sternly) Empiricus!

(sarcastically) I hope David tells us why we should start in the middle of the piece. I-am-all-ears.

That’s more like it, buster!

It contains several memorable tunes and motives that recur with relative frequency, in a clear march rhythm.

From what I have read of your stuff before, David (deep breath), these are things that make for good pieces. Thanks for clearing that up. I’ll (gulp) go straight to the final movement.

I’m impressed, Empiricus!

I’m still trying, anyway.

It's not just that Hahn has mastered the work technically, but she also uses her command of the notes to create feeling.

"She created feeling” sounds like...(rolls eyes)...a good assessment.

Calm. Remember to stay calm.

Mmm-hmm.

Thus, Schoenberg marks the opening of the slow movement "grazioso"...

Wait a goddamned minute! "Thus!" Thus! How on Earth does Schoenberg’s marking follow Hilary Hahn’s playing!

Time out, mister! Go have another smoke.

(pouts, mutters to self)

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(5 minutes later)

Ready to try this again?

(pouting) Yes.

Thus, Schoenberg marks the opening of the slow movement "grazioso", and at first you think he must be kidding...

(long pause) Grazioso means “gracefully.”

...but Hahn and Salonen [the conductor] deliver the expressive goods.

(rolls eyes) I am glad they expressed feelings. (deep breath) That's a sign of a quality recording.

Very good, Empiricus. You’re making me proud.

I’m doing my very best.

I hesitated before giving this disc a top recommendation, if only because no matter how fine the performances are...

What the f...

Calm!

(deep breath) David, I’m sure you had a good reason to ignore your mandate. I can’t wait to hear it.

That’s not entirely nice, Empiricus.

It’s not entirely mean, either, Empiricus. Just calling it like I see it.

I hesitated before giving this disc a top recommendation, if only because no matter how fine the performances are, I don't want to give the misleading impression that on hearing the Schoenberg those resistant to the idiom will suddenly have some sort of 12-tone epiphany.

That’s fucking stupid ass-backw!!!


No! No! No! Stop! We’re done here. Go to your room.

Nothing more to see, folks. Good night! Go read this, instead. You'll enjoy yourself more.
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6/10/08

Backwards in Branibor

Hooray! I’m learning to “pick and choose [my] way though the immense musical legacy that is our classical music culture.” In other words, whatever David Hurwitz says, I do the opposite.

Not because I inherently dismiss what he writes; I do give his reviews a fair chance (most of his baroque, classical or romantic reviews are stellar). And not because I dislike his grammar (apparently, I can’t conjugate verbs, too; so, there goes that). And not because I think he has a strong, dismissive hatred of “atonal” music, i.e., anything written after 1912 with, Gods forbid, a “system.” No. I do the opposite, because I’m not sure if I trust his ears.

But, that’s okay. He’s not asking me to trust him. He’s just asking me to listen to him. Only, after I listen, I immediately try to forget what he had to say. Most of the time, though, I dismiss his assessments, because he completely ignores Classicstoday.com’s review philosophy, which, I think, is very well-reasoned. Dogmatic adherence to the philosophy would greatly improve the quality and consistency of the reviews, in my opinion.

However, this is why today is special. I’m not taking apart one of his reviews of a newer-music recording and calling him on his disregard of the review philosophy. Rather, I’m going to David's home turf to quibble: Herr Bach.

But let me say this, first: David doesn’t write anything like, “the Brandenburg Concertos are terrible pieces”; that would be against the review philosophy (you’re not supposed to judge the quality of the music)—and, just guessing, but that would receive some terrible blog’s ill-conjugated snark. So, good start, right? Hell yes!

This ghastly set can be summed up very easily: fast and crude.

Sure. Fine. No problem. There’s lots of recordings of the Brandenburgs. Besides, it’s an opinion. However...

Tempos are frantic, precluding anything resembling stylish or expressive phrasing.

Ugh. David, apparently, is the arbiter of style and expression. I’ll just ignore that, because that’s a really stupid thing to assert. Besides, if he could justify that an unusually fast tempo actually, in real-lifes, seriously with all seriousness precludes style and expressive phrasing, then this whole spiel would be unnecessary. And besides, besides, as we’ll see the tempos aren’t terribly fast. Moving on.

The Polonaise from the First concerto sounds particularly ridiculous, but the strings-only Third and Sixth concertos are also, to put it kindly, a "hot mess". Solo instruments surface intermittently for a blaring note or two at the climax of a phrase like trained seals leaping for a fish, only to return once again to the blurry depths--consider the horns in the First concerto, or the trumpet in the Second. There's no need to go any further; competition in this music is far too fierce for there to be any need to give this release a moment's consideration.

And that’s it.

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Well, no. We’re hardly done! Check out his rating...

3 for Artistic Quality and 9 for Sound Quality.

1) We’ll talk about this some more, but David doesn’t mention the sound quality once. Not once! Yet it receives a score of 9. And this leads us to...

2) The artistic quality, which receives a score of 3. According to this review, the artistic quality is nearly absent. It’s too fast and crude. It’s frantic. It’s a “hot mess.” Solo instruments, humorously, are like seals leaping for fish. Thus, only a 3.

Sounds artfully awful. Doesn’t it?

Before we get going, however, I have to acknowledge that we wouldn’t exist without the inter-tube-net-webs; we’re a blog, after all. But the internet gives us a powerful perspective (probably the same as yourself, because you’re here, reading us, for better or worse). As web aficionados, we all understand that the world-wide-tubes is a valuable resource—information is everywhere. So when I Googled “Bach and Musica Flora (the performing group) and Supraphon (the record label),” I found this, a link to the reviewed recording and a bunch of sound clips. (It’s best if you open it now in a new window or tab, because I’m going to refer to it a lot.)

At the time I searched the recording, my only goal was to find some sound clips, not to find material for a snarky post. I took David at his word, but wanted to hear what he was talking about (or “about what he was talking,” if you prefer). And this is what I found:

Listening to the clips proved telling (Sorry for this sentence. I couldn’t refuse the opportunity to make fun of critics who say, “the performance was telling,” then don’t elaborate upon their assessment. What did the performance tell? Who knows? I, however, will show and tell what the clips tellingly told).

So click over to the link to the Supraphon website and the recoding in question. Also, make sure your speakers are cranked up or your headphones securely fastened.

The first thing you’ll notice reading the promo fluff is that Musica Florea is a Czech group that specializes in informed Baroque performance practice, which should give us some expectations about what we’re going to hear.

1) The tuning will be slightly lower.
2) The period instruments will sound a tad more fickle to play, they will be less predictable, thus balances will be more difficult to achieve.
3) The performance (i.e., the ornamentation, tempi, vibrato, etc.) will be based on a ton of research.

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Fun Facts! In the Czech Republic, Brandenburg translates to Branibor. And hudba means “music (by).”

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So, let’s listen to a clip of Musica Florea on order to acclimatize ourselves with Baroque performance practice. Go down to Branibor 2, movement 1, click it and listen to the trumpet in particular. Did you do it? Good.

Nothing seems out-of-kilter with our expectations. In fact, it sounds much like other informed Baroque ensembles, like this one. Indeed in fact, in fact, this other ensemble plays it faster. However, before we get ahead of ourselves, this is just one movement. Musica Florea really puts the pedal to the metal in Branibor 1, movement 3, sort of. (Listen) Now compare that to another ensemble, click here.

See? David is sort of right. Musica Florea’s performance is sort of unusually fast. But that’s where he loses me, because he says:

Solo instruments surface intermittently for a blaring note or two at the climax of a phrase like trained seals leaping for a fish, only to return once again to the blurry depths--consider the horns in the First concerto, or the trumpet in the Second.

Listen to the horns in Branbor 1, movement 1.

Sure the horns stick out; I’ll give David that point. But then again, we kind of expect it (see above Baroque-y things to expect). More than that, however (listen to Branibor 1, movement 1, once more), where are the lower strings (violas and cellos)? I can barely hear them even with the volume pumped up so loud that Mrs. Empiricus is threatening a long, drawn-out divorce. I would say that the lower strings are “muddy.” I mean, I can clearly hear the double bass and the violins. And certainly the horns. But...

Hmmm...

Where are the violas and cellos?

This seems particular to this set of Branibors. Now, take some time to really listen for the cellos and the violas in all of these: Branibor 1/movement 2, 1/4, 2/2, 2/3, 4/1, 4/2, 5/1, 5/2, and, finally, 5/3. For the most part, aside from the soloists, all I hear are the violins, harpsichord and the double bass (I know they’re doubling the cellos, but still, I mostly hear the DB). Aren’t you left Dionysianly longing for the lower strings? No worries. David to the rescue!

...the strings-only Third and Sixth concertos are also, to put it kindly, a "hot mess".

Listen to Branibor 6, movement 1, the all low-string Branibor. Was it difficult to distinguish between all the voices? I bet it was. Hmmm...

Could it be... that the sound quality is horribly F-ed up? Let’s consider our facts.

1) The solo instruments are blaringly loud.
2) The double bass, as well as the harpsichord is also quite loud.
3) The upper-strings are easy to distinguish.
4) The violas and cellos are almost inaudible.

I would say that these are indicative of poor microphone placement (during the recording) or poor mixing (post-recording microphone/track balance) or some combination of the two.

It’s easy to over-mix recordings. Take another listen to how much mixing actually went on, post-recording (e.g., Branibor 6, movement 1). Notice how the continuo part, the harpsichord, bass and cellos (the pedal figure), begins hard-panned on the left speaker. As the movement progresses it slowly makes its way to the center, and then back. Little things like that are abundant in our twelve little sound clips. Or notice how awkwardly heavy the bass is on Branibor 3, movement 2; it contributes to an overall muddiness. Or how distant the solo violin is in Branibor 2, movement 3; it’s barely audible!

In this recording’s case, I think it was clearly over-mixed and poorly recorded, which obfuscated the quality of the performance.

It is, thus, my opinion that David’s ears are confusing his ratings categories. Remember how David gave the recording a 3 for artistic quality? Well, if we look again at his critiques...

1) It’s too fast.
2) It’s crude, i.e., the string are a “hot mess” and the horns and trumpet are “blaring...like trained seals.”

It seems to me that only number one is a valid critique toward artistic quality. Whether or not being too fast is enough to merit the super-low score of 3... who knows? But, then again, who knows if its fastness really precluded style (I would argue the opposite) or expression (which is horribly subjective. I thought the clips were very expressive, particularly of a scholarly idea.)?

On the other hand, number two CAN be attributed to sound quality. And David gave the sound quality a 9!

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I lied. I said I wouldn’t talk about the review philosophy. Here’s how David mangled the review philosophy this time:

Nor do we believe that a superb modern performance should be penalized unduly because it is not self-evidently an "audiophile" product.

Which it is not, as I’ve hopefully established. But David let the sound quality interfere with the score for artistic quality—that is, if he wasn’t dumb enough to assert himself as the sole arbiter of style and expression, which I hope, for his sake, is the case. Even if my ears are failing me, that means that David flat-out dislikes aspects of period practice, those which we can expect, leading him to poorly score this period recording’s scholarly interpretation (artistic quality) out-of-hand, or without ears. So...

You should feel no compulsion to agree with our critics; in fact, disagreeing is equally important, because the ultimate purpose of ClassicsToday.com is to enable you to find the music and recordings that suit your personal taste. You do this by taking the advice of the critics you find sympathetic, and by ignoring the advice of the ones whose perspective leaves you cold.

Or I could just do my own research.

Either way, you learn how to pick and choose your way through the immense musical legacy that is our classical music culture.

I sure do.
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5/23/08

Composer of the Day!


Today’s Composer of the Day is Melinda Wagner.

(b. 1957)

I must admit, I hadn’t heard much about Melinda Wagner, which is why I decided to try to find out more. What I managed to dig up was intriguing, however, it isn’t all that substantial.

Born in Philadelphia, she studied with a couple of familiar faces, including George Crumb and Shulamit Ran. She has been performed quite a bit, won her share of awards, including the 1999 Pulitzer Prize, taught and lectured here and there, and then, well...I’m not so sure. At the bottom of her Theodore Presser biography, it says that she currently lives with her husband and children in New Jersey. There’s not much else on the inter-wide-web-surfing-place.

Although, last year Anne Midgette glowingly reviewed the premiere of her trombone concerto:

[...] Ms. Wagner’s piece practically leapt off the stage, so vital and fresh did it sound, compared with what had gone before it. And this concerto certainly belongs on a program of unusual instruments. It is thickly sown with interesting sounds — not sound effects, but a range of timbres and textures, partly supplied by a large and varied battery of four percussionists, woven into the fabric of the music. To balance the mellow trombone — played with a beautiful, burnished richness by Joseph Alessi, for whom the piece was written — the composer pitched her work dark: lots of viola, cello, bass and other trombones anchored the music.

Ms. Wagner writes strikingly well for orchestra; this piece used the whole spectrum of colors available to her without ever becoming dense or cloying. The thickest textures came in the second movement, “Elemental Things,” and even here, where movement slowed to the measured pace of a large beast waking up, long-held notes were brought into focus by details: the whisper of a brushed cymbal, the punctuation of piano.


This smart, complex score retained an organic quality throughout, a kind of clear emotion running through its rich variety; [...]


Her Concerto for Flute, Strings and Percussion is what put her name on the map, winning the 1999 Pulitzer Prize. Here’s a recording at Art of the States (you’ll need realPlayer to listen). The same recording was given quite a friendly review by Detritus favorite David Hurwitz.

The sheer sound of this piece is utterly beguiling. Cast in the traditional three movements, Wagner's idiom in this concerto is fundamentally atonal, though with motives and tunes that are clearly recognizable and often quite beautiful. The extraordinary slow movement reveals the composer's gift for sustaining interest over a lengthy span of intensely quiet music [...]

That’s quite a compliment!

You should listen to her music!
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5/6/08

Hot Stuff from 1944, Ewww!

I must say, at the onset, that ClassicsToday is a good resource for those looking to find assessments of new recordings that often get overlooked by newspapers. And most of the reviews do, in fact, take into account the review philosophy set down by Executive Editor David Hurwitz. Only, he doesn’t write those ones. Historically, he forgoes the review philosophy completely, opting to address the quality of the music, which tends to expose his blatant dislike, nay disdain, of new music (by “new,” I mean music written after 1900).

So, from now on, I’m going to treat David Hurwitz as if the review philosophy didn’t exist. I won’t go on and on about how he didn’t address the “sound quality” or the “performance.” Instead, I’ll focus on what he says about the music. I think it would be easier on both of us.

That said...

Steven Stucky's Son et Lumière is one of those modern, anonymous-sounding "texture" pieces,

...this is fucked up beyond all recognition. He admits that he lumps—maybe categorizes if I were nice—music into modern/not modern, anonymous/authored and “texture”/ “_____” subsections worth easily dismissing. How condescending is that “those!” It’s like, “We need to build a gigantic wall to keep those Mexicans out!” “Texture” in quotations? Give me a break, David.

I would like to propose a new word to describe the irrational hatred of unfamiliar music: xenophonephobia.

Take that Bernard Hollands of the world!

...but it's no less rewarding for that as Stucky writes for the orchestra with great flair and confidence and the piece delivers exactly what the title promises: interesting sounds featuring an enjoyable interplay of light and shade.

Well, the title...only sort of. Wiki magic! But,

David actually...gulp...liked the piece? That might be a bit strong. I think that he was pleasantly indifferent to it.

*Have you ever gone to new music concert, mingled with the composers afterward and said something like, “Your piece was...um...interesting...and um...well-written,” but you didn’t really care for it and you were just being nice? No. Screw you! That’s happened to me.

Either way, Hurwitz sort of apologizes for his outright dismissal of one of “those” pieces, because it was interesting. Could he be turning a modernist corner?

Gabriel Ian Gould (no relation to Morton) is a young (b. 1974) composer whose Watercolors for English horn and orchestra is a sort of Swan of Tuonela for the New Millennium. If my preferences remain firmly with the old swan, this is still an attractive 12 minutes of pastels, the perfect contrast to Stucky's "in-your-face" opening.

“Attractive?” Wow. Maybe Hurwitz finally jumped on the 20th-century bandwagon.

But now comes the really hot stuff.

What’s that? Hot stuff? (puts on swimming goggles)

John Harbison's Cello Concerto (1993) strikes me as one of his most successful instrumental works, largely on account of very colorful orchestration that features an "East meets West" assortment of gongs and tuned percussion. The result avoids the timbral dullness that afflicts many of Harbison's other works, as does the inventive solo part that cellist David Finckel (of Emerson String Quartet fame) plays with admirable relish. You can enjoy this repetition-friendly work at first hearing and return to it with increasing pleasure as your familiarity with its captivating sound world deepens.

Amazing what can happen when you don’t outright dismiss things.

The main event, Morton Gould's Symphony No. 2 "On Marching Tunes", will come as a shock to those who think that the subtitle, the composer's reputation as a musical populist, and the date of composition (1944) mean that we're going to be treated to some sort of nationalistic pot-boiler. Indeed, the opening Variations and zesty third-movement Quickstep offer plenty of evidence to support that notion. They are brilliant and tremendous fun. But the second movement, Bivouac, really is a tenderly nostalgic berceuse, and the long, slow finale, Memorial, carries the music into regions inhabited by the finale of Shostakovich's Eighth Symphony, which it strongly resembles in its grief-stricken emotional ambiance and quietly ambivalent "major-key" ending.

The only problem I have with this is that Hurwitz likes the oldest piece best; it’s his most favoritest. Though, I’m not surprised with his preference, being a xenophonephobiac and all.

Let’s play a quick game. Queue the soundtrack. And. Go!

Son et Lumière (1988)
Cello Concerto (1993)
Watercolors (1998)
Symphony 2 (1944)

That was fun, wasn’t it?

[...] I have no doubt that it deserves to be ranked among the finest of 20th century symphonies.

Because it resembles Shostakovich’s Eighth Symphony’s “grief-stricken emotional ambience?” Air-tight logic that I will not attempt to crack. Not in a million-billion years.



















Even if you don't
respond positively to the other pieces on the disc (and they all are a touch more "modern" than Albany's musical average), you will find owning Gould's masterpiece well worth the outlay.

That sucks. He fucked up an otherwise good, for David Hurwitz, review (don't forget that we omitted the review philosophy) with one little, stinking “modern” in quotation marks. I mean, he was doing well for a while, then, thhbbbt! He shoved new music to the side, once again.

It’s sad. Even if we don’t hold Hurwitz up to the same review standards, which he penned, as we do others at ClassicsToday, we’re still left with shoddy writing and a classic case of xenophonephobia.
-

4/6/08

The Sorcerer

Remember David Hurwitz, from Classicstoday.com, the guy who can't keep his anti-modernist fingers off of the qwerty keyboard? He reviews a disc by, oh shit, John Cage.

There's really no way to "review" John Cage's "number" pieces, since they leave so much open to chance and it's impossible to say what they are supposed to sound like, or if the performance accurately reflects Cage's intentions.

Well, if you stuck to your guidelines (Classicstoday.com’s review philosophy), and if you knew a little something about John Cage...

Anyone who pretends otherwise is simply blowing hot air, so let's just say that if you are collecting this cycle of works and need One, Three, and Six, here they are, obviously well-played and very well recorded [sic].


...you wouldn’t have to talk about the “quality” of the music. Just flat-out say, “Here they are, obviously well-played and very well recorded.” Enough said. But you just can’t help yourself, can you?

The two works containing actual music as it's generally understood, ...

Fuck this. I’m going to go clean my cat’s litterbox.

The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Detritus favorite David Hurwitz seems to have himself an apprentice to continue the proud tradition of modernist hating while ignoring Classicstoday.com’s CD rating philosophy (written by the Hurwitz himself). His name? Victor Carr Jr.

In a review of a new disc comprised of Elizabeth Maconchy’s music, Mr. Jr. exacerbates Classicstoday.com’s already spotty track record of ethics, in the same manner as his venerable master.

Not so enjoyable is Serenata concertante (1962), a gray, angular piece that sounds like Maconchy's attempt to prove that she also can...

Just in case you’re new to the Detritus, here’s a link to Classicstoday.com’s review philosophy. Did you read it? Good. If not, that’s okay, too. Here’s what it says: it says that they’re not supposed to judge the music, just the performance and the sound quality. The judging of the music is to be left to you, the consumer.

So let’s start over.

Not so enjoyable...

Hello? Mr. Jr.? You’re not supposed to judge the music. Remember? Italics mine.

Not so enjoyable is Serenata concertante (1962), a gray, angular piece that sounds like Maconchy's attempt to prove that she also can do "modernist".

Good God! Quotation marks?! Is that really necessary?

I seem to remember hearing a story about Stockhausen, in 1960. After completing a new piece, called Kontakte, he went to the rooftop of Darmstadt, naked, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Look! I can do ‘modernist,’ too!” But it was not so enjoyable, because it was gray and angular.

Sounds awful, doesn’t it, Mr. Jr.? It also sounds like I judged the piece.

Her technique is assured, and violinist Manoug Parikian offers impressive solo work, even if it's in the service of rather inert inspiration.

Because it was gray, angular and “modernist,” Mr. Jr. deduces that its inspiration was inert, and concludes that even an impressive performance can’t save it. Sheesh. “Inert inspiration.” Is that even possible? Can one really... no.

You know what? Let’s just throw out that pesky review philosophy shall we? Mr. Hurwitz, sir? Master? Please, just delete that page. It’s cramping your style, as well as your protĂ©gĂ©’s. It’s not doing us any favors, either. I could be spending my time in a more constructive way—you know, learning my triads so when it comes time for you to review my work, I can’t complain about your ignorant and just plain stupid, irrelevant assertions and judgments concerning “modernism.” (My quotation marks are intended as parody)

It’s settled, then. I’ll drop it, if you do. Good.

Now let’s continue. Throw your best at me, Mr. Jr.; nothing can phase me now.

Finally, the symphonic poem Proud Thames, the first work on the disc, also is the earliest (1952), even though it sounds to be of recent vintage.

I’ll consider this a playful construction. Count yourself lucky that I no longer can be phased by anything.

This is due to the quasi-minimalist repetition toward the end, while the darkly playful interplay of brass and strings evoking the rushing river recalls Libby Larsen's Water Music Symphony.

Strike my last act of generosity! I no longer think that Mr. Jr.’s finally-first-earliest-recent-vintage shtick was intentional. Mr. Jr. just has no conception of time, as evidenced here.

Libby Lasen (born in 1950!) was two-years old when Maconchy wrote Proud Thames (1952. Okay, Larsen may have even been a one-year old, or almost three! Only one, stinking, lousy year old, or almost three!). Now, I may not know much about Maconchy (here’s a short bio), nor am I an expert on non-linear time, but I would dare to say that Larsen’s Water Music Symphony recalls Maconchy, not the other way around.

Congratulations, Mr. Jr.! Today you have done your mentor proud. And embarrassed yourself at the Detritus.

3/26/08

A Good Review (read Another Bad Review by David Hurwitz)

Considering Classicstoday.com’s review philosophy, which we’ve been over many times, how does this happen as often as it does? Here, David Hurwitz tackles a new recording of Vincent Persichetti’s 12 Piano Sonatas (for those who don’t know Persichetti, here’s a bio and some sound).

My beef today?

No. 11 is a spiky, very harmonically advanced (read atonal) essay in several linked sections that still somehow manages to preserve a sense of melodic flow.

Again, he manages to push his pointy-headed, ignorant opinions while maintaining a sense of compliment—“melody is the best measure of music and atonal music is melody-less, but this has some melody, which is surprising, because it goes against my outright dismissal and hatred of modernist harmony (read atonality); but this is good, because it has melody (read not atonal).”

It must be so difficult for him to include parenthetical qualifiers in a review that shouldn’t even be examining musical worth in the first place (see above review philosophy).

Oops. I spoke too soon.

This is in no small part thanks to [the pianist’s] extremely well-recorded and sympathetic performances, which capture the music's fundamentally lyrical inspiration in even the densest thickets of notes (and this music is packed with incident).

A period after “inspiration” would have sufficed (see above review philosophy). But noooo! Hurwitz can’t help but voice his anti-dense-thicket-of-notes (read atonal) fetish (see above review philosophy).

So, in Hurwitzian spirit, I would like to qualify my previous remarks: It must be so painful for him to exclude parenthetical qualifiers in a review that shouldn’t even be examining musical worth in the first place (read your review philosophy [see above review philosophy]).

*You'll all be happy to know that I scrapped my initial idea for this post: an awkward and extended metaphorical reference to Dead Poets Society and Mr. Prichard's essay on measuring the value of a poem. Something about a graph depicting melodic worth on the vertical and harmonic worth on the horizontal. You're welcome.

3/5/08

Wanna Get High?

Reading David Hurwitz is like doing crack. You know it’s bad for you, yet you still read it. And it doesn’t matter what it takes to get it as long as you get it. Then, as you rot from the inside and shrivel up like a sack of shit on the floor of your mother’s basement all sweaty, emaciated and anemic, you cry while you piss yourself, begging God to alleviate your pain. But your silent screams go unheard and you try to commit suicide. At least that’s what the police say, but you know it was really just a pitiful plea for attention. And, and you don’t know who has been watching your three-year old girl for the last month and a half. Or is it two months? Who knows? You sold your watch for crack. It was only a Seiko, but, still, it helped to make sense of this cruel, cruel world.

The review is about a John Biggs disc, from 2004 (By the way ClassicsToday.com, it would be helpful to have, you know, dates of the recordings and reviews, you know, somewhere on your site. Thanks.). Here’s some info about Biggs.

And now... Here’s some crack for you! Because I know you need it.

What makes this music so interesting (to me anyway), aside from its innate charm and melodic appeal,

Before I give you your fix, may I remind you of ClassicsToday.com’s review philosophy? Good.

...the ultimate purpose of ClassicsToday.com is to enable you to find the music and recordings that suit your personal taste.

Let me start over. (emphases mine)

What makes this music so interesting (to me anyway), aside from its innate charm and melodic appeal, is the fact that such works were still being composed at a time when utter darkness reigned,

With as much disinterested sarcasm as I can muster: What, pray tell, could you possibly mean by the reigning darkness? I have no clue. I am a musical peon. Mr. Hurwitz, sir, please tell me. Pretty please with sugar-coated crack rocks on top.

What makes this music so interesting (to me anyway), aside from its innate charm and melodic appeal, is the fact that such works were still being composed at a time when utter darkness reigned, musically speaking, in a world ruled by the academic serialists...

He’s so proud of himself, even though he has absolutely no idea about what he’s talking. This is just... awesome, in a crack whore sort of way. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You need your fix so bad that you realize the easiest way to make the kind of money you need is to sell handjobs for five dollars a tug, which is just enough for one puny little rock. After it’s over, a pungent wave of shame makes you feel nauseous. So you just close your eyes and tell yourself it never really happened and things seem to be a little better. But, the next day, you do it all over again.

What gets me extra-super giddy is Hurwitz’s last clause.

What makes this music so interesting (to me anyway), aside from its innate charm and melodic appeal, is the fact that such works were still being composed at a time when utter darkness reigned, musically speaking, in a world ruled by the academic serialists who had almost exclusive access to major orchestras, grants, and subsidies.

The great thing about this is... well, let me just make a short list of those totally awesome tonal guys who also had great success, i.e. many performances by major orchestras, all kinds of awards like the Pulitzer Prize, and loads of money (relatively speaking, of course), around the same time, say 1940-80.

In no particular order: Malcolm Arnold, Leonard Bernstein, Marc Bliztstein, Aaron Copland, Samuel Barber, William Schuman, Alan Hovhaness, Gian Carlo Menotti, Benjamin Britten, Vincent Persichetti, Alberto Ginastera, Astor Piazzolla, William Perry, Arvo Part, Terry Riley, Philip Glass, William Bolcom, John Harbison, John Tavener, John Rutter, John Adams, Andrew Lloyd Weber, David Diamond, Manuel de Falla, Irving Fine, Dmitri Shostakovich, Carl Vine, Howard Hanson, Leo Sowerby, Walter Piston, Virgil Thompson, Norman Dello Joio, Darius Milhaud, continue ad infinitum.

I purposefully left off of this list those guys and gals who wrote in a more explicitly “atonal” way, like Goerge Crumb. So if you want to get picky, I could list many more who had little to do with serialism, but who were also successful.

I just wanted to show, rather superficially, how dear David, like Bernard Holland, just can’t abstain from hating music that he hates, in publicly accessible printed word form, with little or no substantiated proof in support of his claims. Not that his opinion is meaningless, it’s just that in a review about a recording of one guy’s tonal music (remember CT’s philosophy), why is it necessary to admonish serialism? It isn’t called for, because it simply doesn't have anything to do with John Biggs. It’s like me trying to sell you crack by slapping Tina in the face.

What’ll David "I'm a nefarious drug" Hurwitz say next?

I have no clue. But you want to know, don’t you?

Enjoy your fix and I’ll get you a fat nickel rock soon.
-

3/3/08

Wherein the Problem with Classical Music Is Revealed!

This is not new. It is, in fact, about four years old. And it has been ridiculed on the internets before. However, it is far, far too good to pass up.

CLASSICAL MUSIC'S TEN DIRTIEST SECRETS

I have excerpted the end of the article. You can read the whole thing here. Overall, I am not totally unsympathetic. However…

I propose a radical new idea: Tell the truth!

Ah, truth. Objectivity. The polar opposite of opinion. That sounds great; tell me the truth!

Stop insisting that the classics consist of an unbroken chain of perfect masterpieces of equal worth, and let people compare, judge, and even (gasp!) dislike some of them.

No one is insisting that, at least not around here. However, more egregious is your parenthetical (gasp!). Did you learn that in writing school?

After all, huge crowds go to the movies every week and nine times out of ten hate what they see.

You’ve clearly never been to the Yahoo! Movies user review page!

But they still go back, time after time. This must be, at least in part, because they feel comfortable about that fact that they are free to like or dislike the film, as they chose.

It must?

The lesson here is clear: the exercise of choice enhances, rather than diminishes, the general attraction of the medium.

It is? Well, what’s the problem with classical music?

The problem with classical music is that people too often feel that it’s a “take it or leave it” proposition. So they leave it, and who can blame them?

I…what happened to the truth? That thing you were writing about?

As a public service, therefore, I propose to close this editorial by revealing ten of classical music’s dirtiest secrets, the kind of facts that you’ll find critics and writers vigorously denying in program note booklets, articles, and reviews.

Golly gee, thanks!

But admit it folks, deep down we all know the truth, don’t we?

Um, maybe? Is the objective knowable? Is truth different than opinion? I assert that it is. Truth is different than opinion.

Judge for yourself:

Thanks! I think I will.

1. Mozart really does all sound the same.

Opinion. To boot, a really stupid opinion. In fact, a retarded, ill-informed opinion. How many Mozart pieces have you ever heard?

2. Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge is just plain ugly.

Opinion. I love that piece, which is also an opinion. But I can distinguish the difference, see?

3. Wagner’s operas are much better with cuts.

Opinion. You hate Wagner, or something. The effect of the three-hour waiting-for-one-chord deal is diminished when you shorten the opera.

4. No one cares about the first three movements of Berlioz’ Symphonie fantastique.

I…you…did you ever study music? Opinion, attached to broad generalization with no research.

5. Schoenberg’s music never sounds more attractive, no matter how many times you listen to it.

Opinion! Now I’m getting mad. I love Schoenberg. So…I’m an idiot? How about: you’re an idiot.

6. Schumann’s orchestration definitely needs improvement.

Opinion, but bandied about enough. A popular thing to say, however, not fact. Probably the best of the ten, if still unnecessary.

7. Bruckner couldn’t write a symphonic allegro to save his life.

A) Opinion. B) Who listens to Bruckner? (I kid, I kid.)

8. Liszt is trash.

Opinion. And really, really poorly worded, if concise. Pithy, even. I know plenty of scholars who disagree. Not to mention music lovers! You know, music lovers?

9. The so-called “happy” ending of Shostakovich’s Fifth is perfectly sincere.

Opinion? I have no fucking idea what this means.

10. It’s a good thing that “only” about 200 Bach cantatas survive.

Opinion. If anything is agreed upon, is that Bach was awesome.

What happened to truth? Oh, truth = opinion. Great. Nice job, professional critic. That sucked.

2/28/08

An Ethicist Extraordinaire and Poulenc Is a Drunken Ape!

We’ve only scratched the surface of ClassicsToday.com, the “online guide to classical music.” The Detritus Review has had some cheap laughs at Executive Editor David Hurwitz’s expense. But there are many, many other contributors.

One such regular contributor is composer, teacher and blogger Daniel Felsenfeld.

Before we get to him, however, I’d like to point out a few things. Classics Today (CT) is, in itself, a wonderful idea. For our benefit, CT rates recordings on two facets, each on a scale from 1 to 10, performance quality and recording quality. According to their review philosophy, found here, they believe that

the performance rating far outweighs the significance of the sound rating.

I would agree. If I were a critic. You can’t dismiss great performances from yesteryear because they didn’t have digital technology.

The best recordings are those in which a listener’s attention is primarily drawn to the music itself. Great sound adds to your enjoyment of the music, bad sound interferes with it.

I applaud their philosophy.

The problem with any rating system, however cleverly devised, is that it tends to place undue emphasis on differences that ultimately may be trivial at best, and misleading or inconsistent at worst. The standard of classical music performance today is relatively high, and the difference between say, a 9 and a 10 may be self-evident to the critic, but either inaudible or irrelevant to another reviewer or to individual listeners. For this reason, whenever possible and appropriate, we include with each review a "reference recording" of the music in question.

Fair and Balanced, if I may use a registered trademark.

You should feel no compulsion to agree with our critics; in fact, disagreeing is equally important, because the ultimate purpose of ClassicsToday.com is to enable you to find the music and recordings that suit your personal taste.

Thank you. I will disagree when I have sufficient cause.

CT elaborates on how we can find recordings that suit our tastes:

by taking the advice of the critics you find sympathetic, and by ignoring the advice of the ones whose perspective leaves you cold.

Sympathetic or cold to my tastes, my perspectives. Good enough, I suppose; it’s a perfectly cromulent foundation for an online site that reviews classical music.

CT even wishes us

Happy Listening!

-

Then there is Daniel Felsenfeld.

Listening to the piano music of Salvatore Sciarrino, I was reminded of Truman Capote's excoriation of Kerouac's On the Road: "That's not writing, it's just typing." This is not composing, it's just notating.

On an unsanctioned, imaginary scale from 0 to 0 for compositional quality, Felsenfeld gives this a -i, which is neither here nor there, because the scale doesn’t exist, in this world or his, or Truman Capote’s, which is pretty weird and smoky. Very weird and smoky.

Aside from the early (1983) Sonata II, which is not un-beautiful with its flurrying filigree against dark, lush chords (in a fearlessly heavy-handed live performance by Shai Wosner), these pieces are almost completely devoid of interest.

“Not unbeautiful.” Not unbackhanded.

I was under the impression that by coming to this site, we’d get a fair and balanced review of a newly released recording, based on the quality of performance and sound. Unfortunately, I think that the pieces were so bad, so devoid of interest, that Felsenfeld decided that the most ethical thing to do was to take preventative action by breaking the philosophical bylaws of CT. The ends justify the means. It’s like Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We had to do it. Just had to.

Sciarrino has only two gestures at his disposal: the plink and the thunk, with variations of course (such as the ker-plink and the ka-thunk).

Unless you’re John Cage or an imitation, that’s all the piano does: plink and thunk, and the like.

What if I was already a huge fan of Salvatore Sciarrino? Felsenfeld’s crusade won’t be successful. He’s just making this difficult on himself.

The pianists--Nicolas Hodges, Oscar Pizzo, and the aforementioned Shai Wosner--no doubt give committed and accurate readings,

Hey, hey! The performance sounds good. There. Was that so difficult?

but who can know in material this muddled?

Yes. It’s that difficult.

Ultimately, what could have been interesting and artful sounds like Poulenc played by a drunken ape.

Poulenc is a drunken ape! And Liszt has limp noodles!

I was defending Schoenberg's piano music to a student of mine some years ago, a non-musician who after hearing Op. 23 said "I could do that." I led her to the piano and made her try, and she found it not so easy.

You’re so understanding. And you stood up for Schoenberg. What a guy. What an ethical guy.

If she happens to be reading this review, perhaps Sciarrino would be a better place to start. This she can probably do.

Gross. I thought I was supposed to hear something about how it sounded.

Anyways (rolls eyes sarcastically)...

Felsenfeld even gave this recoding a score, because he had to. Let’s see. Oh! A three for performance and a nine for sound quality. That review sounds cold to my tastes.
-

2/22/08

Atonal Music Sucks

Sympathy for the Serialists

Good gravy. This is going to take a while. Bear with me, gentle readers!

Sympathy for the Serialists

You probably hate serialism. Am I right?

It’s probably a truism to say that there are only two kinds of music: good and bad,

A truism. Hmm. Art appreciation is not subjective? Oh, you’re beholden to the canon. I bet you really, really like music written in the 18th-19th century German tradition. Me too! But I also allow for other music. To be, you know, good or bad.

but now that tonality is back in vogue

It is!?

and the serialists are on the retreat,

They are!?

it may be a good time to step back and take stock.

It may!?

My principal motivation has been the audition of a number of new releases and reissues by some mediocre-to-truly-miserable 20th century tonal composers,

You…found some bad tonal composers? Awesome. There are tons. (Now who’s being subjective?! Hint: It’s me! Aesthetics are subjective. See?) I totally want to hear more about these composers.

an experience which has driven home just how desperate the situation must have seemed at the turn of the last century if you happened to be working within the German classical tradition.

Wait, what? There was lots of…bad tonal music written because…the situation was desperate…because those atonal freaks were taking over? Also, and not for nothing: the German classical tradition, by the turn-of-the-century, was only one of many things happening in the world of music. Right? The Javanese gamelan orchestra came to Paris in the 1889 World’s Fair, where Debussy was in attendance. See? German classical tradition is one of many, many musical things that were happening. 100 years ago. And even now! It is (while awesome) not the best, or most important, or anything. At all!

It has also become clear just how inadequate traditional music history is in describing (never mind explaining) exactly what was going on at the time.

You are now going to correct this inadequacy once and for all. I can’t fucking wait.

First of all, there is the obvious and somewhat artificial distinction between “tonal” and “atonal” music.

I…can’t even begin. You are wrong. Please bear with me, as this is going to get technical for a minute. Well, a paragraph.

“Tonal” music takes one primary tone (the “tonic”) as the reference point for an entire piece. The harmony and melody all relate to this tone as primary. All of the other tones, or pitches, have specific harmonic or melodic functions in relation to the primary tone. The pitch one half-step below the tonic (the “leading tone”) has a strong tendency to “lead” to the tonic tone. Similarly, the chord built on the fifth tone above the tonic (“V”) also tends strongly to lead to that important structural note. Tonality is by nature a heirarchal system where one note is priveliged above the others, and their functions are subservient to, and predicated on, it.

“Atonal” music eschews this principle of heirarchy. The idea of one note being primary is cast away; this leads to new ideas about melody and harmony. The origins and history of this idea are beyond the scope of this…whatever this is. It is basically the opposite of what I wrote above this just now. I am already tired.

It is artificial because when most people think of music they don’t classify it on this basis at all.

They don’t?

What most of us really mean by “tonal” is “melodic,” which is a different matter entirely, although tonality certainly has its role to play.

This is false. Atonal music is often, if not mostly, highly melodic. The melodies are not conventional, but they are still melodies! The strategy of composition and/or function of pitches is very different. But melody is still a primary concern for atonal music.

The reason for the emphasis on music’s harmonic aspect is simple: it is the quality most easily analyzed and discussed by music theorists.

As a music theorist, I have to say that you are an idiot. There are numerable theories dealing with melody. Prioritizing harmony is the domain of a particular branch of theory. Or branches. Still, your unfounded assertion is…unfounded.

To date, no one has ever been able to quantify the expressive qualities of melody,

This is not true. Or, at least, many have tried. Like this guy. Or this one.

but harmony can be addressed systematically in wholly technical terms.

It can, yes, sort of. But that fails to address any other aspect of music.

Still, the fact is, there’s plenty of atonal music that is quite melodic, indeed ravishingly so (think: Berg).

I…yes! You are correct. Why are you contradicting yourself? Stop contradicting yourself!

All of the generally acknowledged great composers were, in some form or another, melodists, able to express in just a few bars of tune those personal qualities found nowhere else.

“Generally acknowledged” = the canon canon canon canon canon. Also, Beethoven is often derided for his melodies. (Not by me.) We’re back to your “two kinds of music, good and bad” thing. Which sucks.

Rather than seeing 19th century music history as a gradually evolving “crisis of tonality,”

It was. Tonality became more and more saddled with its own weight as composers experimented with stretching its boundries. The late Romantics (Mahler, Bruckner, Strauss, et al.) took tonality to its limits, beyond which was visible atonality. As early as Liszt (in his Bagatelle sans tonalitĂ©) composers saw the edges of the system breaking down. But you don’t think so, do you?

is seems more logical to view it as both composers and listeners did themselves: as an ongoing search for new types of melody.

The search for new types of melody? I would recommend atonality! Or, perhaps “world” music and/or folk influences, for starters. Or, you know, some kind of pioneer.

From this perspective, the situation in greater Germany looks all the more interesting, and becomes increasingly understandable.

The Germans couldn’t find any new melodies? Or new types of melodies?

By the end of the 19th century, German music had, melodically speaking, effectively written itself out. The works of Brahms and Wagner, each in their own way, demonstrate this quite clearly.

You are seriously going to argue that Wagner and Brahms (for fuck’s sake!) were bad melodists?

Wagner, whose early work reveals him to be at best a spotty melodist,

I guess so! Good luck with that.

avoided traditional instrumental music entirely and evolved a style that allowed him to construct his music dramas on a basis more congenial to his strengths: using brief, pregnant motives.

You…I…he was an opera composer. Melodies in opera are…different, than, say, the theme of a symphony’s first movement. Jesus!

Brahms faced a bigger problem, in that he worked in the large, abstract forms created by the great composers of the classical period, and the basis of these media was melody.

It was really harmony and form (not to promote your previous argument). Melody is, of course, important, but the structure of the “large, abstract forms” is harmony-driven. Also, Brahms wrote awesome fucking melodies.

Writing good original tunes was, as Brahms himself recognized, one of his greatest challenges. His recourse to Hungarian melodies, alongside other supplements to his propriety thematic material (such as his frequent acts of thematic homage to past masters), was a frank acknowledgment of the importance in finding distinctive--or at least appropriate--ideas with which to populate his musical structures.

I…Symphony No. 4, Op. 98. Intermezzi Op. 117. Horn Trio, Op. 40? Have you ever heard Brahms?

Outside of Germany, things were going swimmingly.

Imperialism was totally underrated. That, and the Nationalism that consumed Europe and lead to WWs I and II! Awesome.

The great nationalist composers such as Dvorák, Sibelius, and the Russian school were exploring a vast fund of melodic archetypes inspired by their native folk music.

Nationalism is outstanding! Fairly, these composers integrated their folk music into their compositions, which is fine. Or even great. But your larger point is:

In France, music in large abstract forms had never been a priority, and when it became one at the turn of the 20th century, it proved infinitely adaptable to the French approach of “borrow from wherever but call it French.” Melody never had it so good.

Fuck the French! But your larger point is:

Only in Germany did the aesthetics of nationalism result in a doctrine of musical purity that made it virtually impossible for native composers to absorb new influences, and renew their stock of musical materials.

They had no folk music? So they were forced to turn to…progressive techniques? Those bastards! Also. Are “folk music” influences really new? Aren’t “new influences” more like musical developments (atonality, serialism) than adopting folk tunes?

Composers that attempted to do so, like Mahler, already an outsider by birth and ethnicity, were either spurned, or like Richard Strauss found themselves avoiding abstract forms such as symphonies, concertos, and chamber music entirely.

Those poor, poor, early 20th century Germans.

Enter Schoenberg and his crew.

What is this, fucking “Entourage”?

It’s worth remembering that the twelve-tone method was born as a rejection of free atonality, and has as its basis a new way of thinking about melody.

Yes! What is your fucking problem?

The most immediately appealing thing about it, aesthetically, is that it represents a closed system: as “pure” as any there is.

Yes! What?

From a strictly intellectual point of view, and ignoring the question of depth of musical expression,

Which you completely define using tonality. And/or the canon. Right?

it would seem to be ideally suited to the creation of the kind of large, abstract forms that had come to symbolize musical greatness, German style.

It’s not, really. The miniaturization of the early 12-tone works conincides with the rejection of the large, Romantic orchestral genre. The eschewing of the Romantic tonal doctorine, logically, coincided with the discarding of the huge, sweeping grandeur of Romantic forms. This seems very logical to me. Compare Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 with Webern’s Symphony, Op 21. The compression of expression matches the compression of scale.

At least, Schoenberg thought so. It has tremendous appeal on paper, which is how most third-rate composers conceive of music anyway. That the final result may sound awful is always a secondary consideration.

Some people actually like this music. Maybe not too many. But that doesn’t mean you get to put it in the “bad” category. Even inferring that Schoenberg is a “third-rate composer” will get you some profanity-laced barbs from me. To wit: You are a fucking ignoramus. You have never listened to Pierrot Lunaire. You dismiss atonal music out-of-hand. Wait, I missed a profanity! OK: Fuck!

More to the point, there is plenty of twelve-tone music that does not sound awful, in which the method can be used to create a personal, expressive, and even appealing melodic style (take Rautavaara, for instance).

Not-awful twelve-tone music! Hedging. Better, but back-handed.

The serial revolution also aided in the creation of music based on criteria other than melody, a difficult proposition in non-programmatic pieces, but one which a few composers have managed triumphantly (consider Dutilleux).

You are so fucking generous.

We also know this because we now find composers writing tonal music equally devoid of traditional melody, and the result as often as not simply sounds ridiculous, the musical equivalent of trying to communicate in a language devoid of nouns. At least the atonal stuff does not lead the ear into expecting something that it has no intention of delivering.

Crappy tonal music is caused by crappy atonal music, which is basically all of it. Canon!

At a time when many composers of that nationality despaired of the creating an individual melodic style that was also aesthetically “German,” the opportunity to write music on a different basis entirely must have been all but irresistible.

What the fuck does this sentence mean? Atonal composers basically…could not help themselves from doing what they did? What!?

It’s not their fault that the vast herd of worthless lemmings at the university level

Jesus fucking christ.

took advantage of what started as a purely local artistic solution, and turned it into a style that allowed them to be at once modern and resolutely unoriginal, not to mention impersonal. Even so, there’s a certain honesty in the pride that they took in their sterility.

Sterility.

More to the point, greatness transcends the technicalities of style. It's a quality that may have seemed in short supply during the recent "twelve-tone interruption," but this is largely an illusion. It's always been a precious commodity.

I think it’s awesome that you’re the arbiter of greatness of composing. Fortunately, I’m the arbiter of greatness in criticism! And you, sir, are not great. You’re the atonal critic, as it were. Although in my book that’s a compliment, in your book it clearly is not.

Not the least of the atonal revolution’s accomplishments was to remind us of this fact, particularly now, when once again we are tempted to award the accolade of “great” to music whose principal value lies in its being merely inoffensive.

You are wholly offensive. You do not deserve the accolade “great” because you fail to be inoffensive.

The Best Analysis Ever

This happy little article—found on classicstoday.com and written by the Executive Editor, David Hurwitz—is really depressing. Will this never stop? Do I have to write these things up for the rest of my life?

Is suicide an option?

There has been no shortage of juicy classical music news recently, starting with the death of German composer and space cadet Karlheinz Stockhausen.

Seriously, dude. Is suicide an option?

Yeah? Sweet. But how? I guess I could cut myself. (pulls out dull, rusty Swiss Army Knife from back pocket, opens it up, stares at it)

I was planning to use that event as a springboard to comment on the ongoing and welcome demise of the European Post-War avant-garde: its hypocrisy, institutional rigidity, and its hopeless failure to capture the minds and hearts of audiences the world over.

(cuts wrist lengthwise) Ouch!

But we already know that, and it strikes me that the above sentence is about as much as Stockhausen and his crew deserve.

(bleeds) ...

(cuts other wrist)

Happily, an even more inspiring subject presented itself for consideration:

(bleeds some more) ...

(passes out) ...

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Sator Arepo: Empiricus? Empiricus!? Wake up!! Empiricus!?? Wake up!!!! Someone! PLEASE call an ambulance!!! Oh God! No!!!!!
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