Friday Quickie: That's not something you see everyday

It's a slow news cycle here in the detritus world of music criticism. And as such...

Symphony in A minor a minor disappointment

Oh. Dear. God.

This week's Minnesota Orchestra concerts, heard Thursday at Orchestra Hall, mark the climax of its season-long Rachmaninoff symphony cycle.

I think the story here is that the Minnesota Orchestra has completely given up on programming good music.

Har har har...see what I did there?

Sorry, I'm sure some of you out there just love Rachmaninoff...but just admit it, you're totally wrong. Right?

Rachmaninoff's Symphony No. 3 in A minor is the composer's final symphony and one of the last of his orchestral works.

In fact that the only other orchestral work he composed (Symphonic Dances) was the only other piece he wrote at all until his death seven years after this symphony. Just saying.

As such, it is a nice pairing with the contrastingly youthful "Firebird."

Sure, what the hell.

The first movement opens in deep melancholy, perhaps expressing Rachmaninoff's sense of loss and of time passing.

Perhaps. But if you're basing this on the fact that you heard the Dies Irae, you should note that every piece Rachmaninoff ever wrote has the Dies Irae in it...or something like that.

So, how was this symphony "a minor" disappointment?

Wigglesworth missed the depth of emotion, stressing orchestral precision over passion, the result feeling somewhat cerebral and cold.

Well, that's not something you read everyday. Rachmaninoff -- "cerebral"? Surely you jest.

figure don't see that everyday: It is just as true today as it was in his day. Amen.

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Actually, Rachmaninoff's music isn't not cerebral. It's just so much more common for his music to be inundated with superlatives extolling the emotional genius of his music. I mean, it's not like he's Bruckner or something.

And Yet Another Orchestra Shows Incredible Balance

Another harmless review...but I'm not sure why I have to say this, but composers write the music, not the conductor, or the soloist, or the players. At a certain level of musicianship, the music isn't demonstrably more sad or powerful or jubilant. Tempos change, and articulations can vary...but these alterations are often slight. This isn't to say that the Berlin Philharmonic doesn't perform Beethoven 5th Symphony better than the Albuquerque Community Orchestra...they most certainly do. But the music...it's just as fateful in the beginning, and as triumphantly C major at the end. And it's been that way for 200 years.

So there.

Young pianist Yuja Wang conquers Rachmaninoff in terrific Oregon Symphony concert – orchestra at the top of its game
James Bash, OregonMusicNews.com, February 7, 2011

Ah, good, a sports cliche...now I know this will be thoughtful review.

Guest artist Yuja Wang brought her A game…

I’m going to admit it up front, that this I’m probably only bringing my C+ game to this critique.

But of course, you should still read on…

…to the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall on Saturday evening (February 5) at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall…

They have an Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall now? That’s convenient.

…and created an impressive debut with the Oregon Symphony in her performance of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto.

If only print newspapers had editors as attentive and fastidious as online editors…oh, wait.

Wang played this demanding work with incredible precision and artistic panache.

Panache is good. Precision…meh.

Her opening statement showed right away that she had power and finesse,…

Convenient then that Rachmaninoff put some powerful, yet finesseable music right up front.

…but…

My favorite part about the "but" construction in most of these reviews is the unnecessary juxtaposition of two usually positive things.

She was pretty but smart too.

….she excelled in creating the lush, rhapsodic atmosphere with a singing tone.

Her performance sounds dreamy…do you have a favorite part?

One of the most memorable passages…

Yeah...

…came in the second movement when she evoked a series of cascading waterfalls that opened onto a high plateau with an expansive vista.

She did what now? She evoked a waterfall? On a high plateau? With an expansive vista?!

Also, you said 'she'? Did the music not naturally evoke this image? If I understand you correctly, you are suggesting that her interpretation added waterfalls to the music?

She drew you a picture, right?

Maybe she could’ve lingered a little more here or there,…

‘Here’ or ‘there’? Are these real places, or are you making a sweeping generalization about the performance and hoping we just wouldn't care?

…but she is only 23 years old, and I’m sure that her interpretation will change in the future.

You're right. 23 year-olds don't linger as long as they should.

In support of Wang’s performance, the orchestra brought its A game as well.

So, we’re not grading on a curve then?

Any chance there’ll be extra credit on this concert?

figure bringing it: Joey Chestnut brought his A game when he downed 68 hot dogs and buns at the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest.

The series of duets in the first movement (flute, oboe, clarinet, horn, and bassoon)…

Yes, duets. Can I just pick any two instruments from the list above for the duet? Or were there duets of every possible combination (not permutations, since order does not matter)? Meaning there were…(remembering 11th grade pre-calculus)…

figure combinations: How the fuck do you solve an equation with no numbers?!

10 duets!? That’s kind of a lot…at least for just the first movement.

… had balance and grace.

Can you really have grace without balance? Think about it.

At one point in the second movement, the orchestra snuck in…

Ooh. Nice imagery. I wonder how they snuck in.

…as if they were all wearing really thick socks.

Well, that is an effective way of sneaking. And I’m assuming they took their shoes off first, because, you know, that would totally negate the benefits of really thick socks.

figure snuck in: Hey! Wait a minute...how did all you people get on this train?

The then…

“The then”...

…played in a way that made a very gradual crescendo that showed incredible control.

Really? You must be shitting me.

And they did this in the second movement?!

The brass flared impressively in the third movement when the music went off to the races,…

Dog or horse races? There is a difference you know.

Oh, or were they people races? If so, did the music also take in the high jump and javelin competitions as well?

Or...and I dare to ask...were they...?

figure man vs beast: Stupid giraffe.

…and the overall effect at the end of the piece was jubilation from all corners of the nearly sold-out hall.

Four for four, huh? And what about the center of the auditorium, was there jubilation there too?

Wang responded with an encore, Rachmaninoff Vocalise (Op.34 n. 14).

No way an encore was preplanned. Way to go audience, your jubilation spontaneously created an encore.

The orchestra opened the concert with a superb performance of Johannes Brahms’ Tragic Overture. Again, the orchestra demonstrated incredible balance and articulate phrasing.

I’m just wondering to myself if balance is the sort of thing that I could ever describe as “incredible”.

Two of the horns and principal bass trombonist Charles Reneau made the sound magically decay during an exposed section,…

Magically? Did you expect the sound to extend forever?

…and the lower strings marvelously created a wistful mood towards the end of the piece.

A wistful mood not indicated in the score?

Under the direction of Kalmar, this piece became a real gem.

Otherwise it’s a pile of shit.

The orchestra also made a very strong case for Carl Nielsen’s rarely heard Symphony No. 6, aka the Sinfonia semplice.

A “strong case”? What an incredibly odd thing to say.

Are the Brahms and Nielsen generally accepted as crappy pieces of works, and the Oregon Symphony disagrees, bravely standing in direct opposition to common wisdom?

The music in this piece seemed to travel in numerous directions in a fascinating way.

I'll bet it was hard to keep track of all the places you were going.

figure traveling in numerous directions: A little free advice from Deliverance Unto The Lord, Inc.

In the first movement alone, the orchestra went from suspenseful super quiet state to an agitated, fast and loud one before settling into a soothing ending.

Wow. Sounds like some super calls from the orchestra. Why Nielsen composed that first movement without a soothing ending is beyond me.

The second movement had an eclectic, disjointed feel (in his introduction, Kalmar told the audience to picture a group of children waking up from a nap)…

Yes…okay. Children waking from a nap…I’m thinking some portamento in the strings…no, glissandi in the trombones!

In fact, no strings at all…for a short…no, extended period.

…that was punctuated here and there by glissandos from principal trombonist Aaron LaVere, and for an extended period only the woodwinds, brass, and percussion played.

Thought so.

The strings got things going in the third movement with tight ensemble playing.

What “things” specifically did they get going?

After principal flutist Rose Lombardo played a beautiful solo, the mood of the music became strident before downshifting to a solemn and slow close.

With all those "things going", I bet it was a quite a relief when the music downshifted.

The fourth movement featured a waltz that the cellos and double basses usurped for a while until other themes developed and were exchanged seamlessly between sections.

You might say that the cellos and basses usurped that melody like Ahaz usurped the throne of Judah from his father Jotham, if I might be allowed a bit of biblical humor.

Gordon Rencher played a charming passage on the xylophone before the violins launched into a series of skipping phrases.

Where are you going with this? Are you under the impression that there are people for whom charming passages and skipping phrases might make them come to the concert? Or do just prefer to give anecdotal snippets instead of any substantive review?

The piece ended with the bassoons getting the last word, and that accented the overall whimsical nature of the piece.

Oh, those bassoons – can they not be whimsical?

I hope that the orchestra plays some more Nielsen in the near future.

Me too. But you’re not assuming that all of Nielsen’s music features whimsical bassoons, authoritarian lower strings, and manic mood changes, are you?

[Note to readers: I added the word "magically" to this review -- in a vain attempt to describe the decayed sound that Charles Reneau made.]

Well, why don’t you at least try, because, I’m not sure magical even begins to add to our understanding of how his decay might have differed from your standard decaying sound.

Time to Hook up the Ivy

That's a bad pun, I know.

From Providence’s own Brown Daily Herald, which sounds like a pun, but is not:

The Brown University Chorus filled Sayles Hall with songs of worship and love Saturday night.

Okay, so not the review fare on which we at the Detritus usually aim our sights, but, nonetheless, there are issues worth considering.

Featuring five works from various genres, the hour-long concert elicited thunderous applause and a standing ovation.

Nice.

The chorus, which is composed of 50 singers and is one of Brown’s oldest performing groups, began the concert with Sergei Rachmaninoff’s “All-Night Vigil,” [Op. 37] a Christian song of worship.

Impressive! It’s not a small piece at all (about an hour in length).

Wait. The concert was only an hour long!? Oh. Oh! Ugh.

That they sang excerpts is, well, not very impressive. Failing to mention that they only sang excerpts is misleading.

Anyway.

The performance started off peacefully but quickly rose to a crescendo, giving the audience its first glimpse of the chorus’s musical abilities.

They have the ability to sing soft and loud. In other words, loads of ability.

They also sang Robert Evett’s “The Mask of Cain” and Stephen Chatman’s “There is Sweet Music,” followed by Kirby Shaw’s choreographed “Plenty Good Room,” which concluded the first half.

The second half of the concert featured a performance of “Narcissus,” a cantata written and arranged by James Woodman. Normally, a composer is responsible only for arranging the music, but Woodman also “wrote the poem itself,” Jodry said.

He made it up all by “himself”! Please.

After the piece’s last movement, the audience exploded into a standing ovation.

Figure 1. Old-timey gags are awesome.

Okay. This is all well and good. It sounds like it was a concert, with potentially interesting stuff. But:

[Conductor Frederick] Jodry said it was imperative to choose a “wide array of music” so that the audience didn’t lose interest, since the performance was so long.

There are several issues here. First, I don’t doubt that the pieces exemplified that “wide array,” but I take issue with the choice of program. If it wasn’t musically interesting enough to sustain itself without gimmicks of some sort or another, then why not choose different, perhaps better, music? It seems to me that the conductor made the job difficult for himself. Why not just perform the entire Rachmaninov? I’m not a huge fan, but the quality of the work and audience interest is guaranteed.

Second, and this goes hand in hand with the first, I think the conductor underestimated his audience. We’re talking about Brownians, smart people—smart people who have an interest in choral music. I mean, what more can you ask for? This isn’t a high school choir performing for their parents, after all.

Finally, if our critic’s concert time estimation was more-or-less correct, about an hour, then, generically, what does this say about concert culture? Nothing good. Might it be time to start phasing out Mahler, again?

The first three pieces were distinctly heavier than the fourth, which carried a more whimsical tone and “made the audience grin,” accomplishing its purpose of keeping the audience engaged, Jodry said.

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Orchestra director: Let’s make the audience grin so they don’t nod off.
Board member 1: Huzzah!
Board member 2: What’ll we program? It should be topical, no doubt.
Board member 1: We need some kind of star power, too.
Orchestra director: I know! Let’s have a tribute to Teddy Kennedy, with...
Keith Lockheart: ...with narration from Morgan Freeman!
Board member 1: Huzzah!
Board member 2: And Ed Harris!
Board member 1: Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
Orchestra director: Why not? Why not go all out and get Robert DeNiro and Cherry Jones, too?
Board member 1: That might be a bit much. Don’t you think?
Board member 2: And video!
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Friday Quickie: Critic Attempts Humor

At first I thought Timothy Mangan, of the Orange County Register, was about to savage some poor orchestra, but he seems to play it a little safer and turns in a somewhat amusing meta-review.

Check it out here:

Music critic injured during Rachmaninoff performance

A music critic for the Orange County Register in California felt the life being sucked out of him during a concert last week but was able to continue working to the end of the event.

Gustav is a fan of the third person. But, seriously, Gustav's totally been there. And for some reason, this idea of the life-sucking concert reminds him of this quote from Stravinsky:

"Why is it that whenever I hear a piece of music I don't like, it's always by Villa-Lobos?"

Exactly.

Timothy Mangan, the newspaper’s music critic since the latter part of the 20th century, sensed that he was “losing his will to live” during a performance of Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances by the local orchestra on Thursday.

Rachmaninoff will do that to you.

figure sergei: Rachmaninoff will sure haunt Gustav's dreams tonight, and, quite possibly, suck his will to live.

[snip]...

Rachmaninoff has long been a weak part of Mangan’s game. In 2006 he was accused of falling asleep during a performance of the composer’s Second Symphony.

Gustav's pretty sure falling asleep is the desired effect.

In 2001, he sent a freelance writer to review a concert that included Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto. He walked out of the movie “Shine.”

Shine did suck, didn't it?

But, frankly, these are impressive credentials you're tossing around. That kind of antipathy for such a beloved composer is just a rare trait for a critic nowadays.

But he has usually been able to write around the weakness using sparkling verbiage and sarcasm.

Of course, you are a music critic.

Some worried that the Symphonic Dances incident, coming so late in the season, would put him out for the rest of the schedule.

Just be glad it wasn't the Bruch Violin Concerto, some Strauss waltzes, or even worse, a Bruckner symphony. If all three of those ever end up on the same concert, Gustav can't even begin to imagine the carnage.

“No, I’m all right, I’m getting treatment. My doctors gave me a box set of Stravinsky. 22 CDs. I’m supposed to listen to a disc a day. So far, it’s working.”

Stravinsky does cure what ails you...at least where music and quotes about Villa-Lobos are concerned.

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I must say, it's nice when critics, like Timothy Mangan has done, try something new with their writing.

However, I'm not really sure what to make of this article. It is funny...yeah, in parts. But to what extent does it even make any kind of argument...at all? Anyway, give it a read and let us know what you think. Funny? Pointless? A little of each?

In Defense of Music Critics

In between our snarky witticisms and acerbic critiques, we here at the Detritus are faced daily with some fundamental questions. And I believe that these issues deserve some special consideration from time to time, both by the Detritus Review and by our readers.

The Issue: What is role of the music critic?

Despite using this blog as a platform to lampoon some critics, we hold the profession of music critic in high esteem. And while we wish to compel, through criticism, everyone in the profession to the highest standards, we still believe in the importance of the role that the music critic plays in the arts.

The role of the critic isn't easily determined since the critic serves so many masters, each wanting something different and personal. Some wish to be informed and some wish to have their opinions affirmed (or challenged). It's easy to force your expectations of what a good review should be onto a critique that doesn't necessarily agree or aims to please a different demographic. But one thing that I think cannot be mistaken is the relationship between critic and reader, and an understanding of the service being provided, as public recounting of our shared heritage and culture.

What prompted me to write about this issue was a review in the Salt Lake Tribune this past weekend. I read many (MANY) reviews, and this one was neither great nor terrible. It didn't really distinguish itself as typical fodder for the Detritus. However, the paper also published this letter to the editor response online.

I found the letter interesting in the way it attacks the critic for not understanding her role as critic. Good question,"what is the role of a critic?"

I must respond to Catherine Reese Newton's review of the recent Utah Symphony concert ("Symphony Rachs on," Tribune , Jan. 9). To call Rachmaninoff's Symphony No.2 gooey is beyond my understanding. Has Newton never heard music that has moved her to her very soul? That's what I feel when I hear a piece of beautiful, overpowering music, such as that played Friday night. It was obvious that the audience felt the same as I did. It was plain that the young girl sitting with her parents not far from me wasn't finding the piece gooey. What is wrong with loveliness and sublime beauty?

It's reviews such as this that discourage rather than encourage attendance at the symphony, especially when the Utah Symphony is struggling more than ever. The job of a critic is to comment on how well the orchestra plays, not to impose her narrow views on us.

Kaye D. Murdock, Salt Lake City

Needless to say that Ms. Murdock and I would likely not be friends, but let us first explore, without yet considering Ms. Newton's actually review, her suggestion as to the role of a critic.

The job of a critic is to comment on how well the orchestra plays,...

Okay, yes, I'd have to agree that this is part of the job of the critic. The orchestra sits as the cultural epicenter of most metropolitan areas' classical music offerings. They require enormous budgets that are often funded primarily by donation and municipal grants. An account of the performance by that orchestra does seem like an important part of accountability to the community.

...not to impose her narrow views on us.

And again, I would agree. Proper editorial journalism starts with the facts at hand before coming to a conclusion, not beginning with preconceived notions.

However, and I don't mean to pick on this one woman and her opinion too much, but it seems that it is she, and perhaps the majority of orchestra patrons and those who still read arts criticism in newspapers, that have the narrow views.

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Let me go back a little bit here and start, in part, with what my feelings are on the subject.

I have always bought into the vision of the critic as a public expert, advocate, and to some extent, a teacher. In one famous text on the subject, Philip Weissman wrote that “the step from connoisseur to critic implies the progression from knowledge to judgment,” in his essay The Psychology of the Critic and Psychological Criticism (1962). It is that progression from knowledge to judgment that yields the critic an authority worthy of attention. Without that knowledge base the criticisms will ring hollow.

The problem is that most people view the critic as a person who "criticizes." And they view that sense of expertise as being arrogant and superior. And with subjective arts, such as music, people are not easily convinced by knowledge-based arguments, and so-called "theories". They, perhaps rightly, view music as instinctual and creative, and therefore, all opinions are essentially equal. Criticisms contrary to our own are then met with disdain. But good critics are not the snobs they are often accused of being, but those who hold their opinions to a higher standard. You see, it's not enough just to have an opinion, even when discussing purely subjective issues. You need to know why you like (or dislike) a piece of music. This is not a question of finding a correct answer. As many would rightly argue, there is no right and wrong. However, there is the ill-conceived and the uninformed. The ability to explain why you think what you think is a fundamental part of having an opinion. And the critic is, theoretically, someone who is best able to articulate his/her opinion in a manner both open and honest.

This issue of "right" and "wrong", "good" and "bad", seem to be the biggest stumbling blocks for most readers, and critics themselves. Many critics (especially the ones featured on this blog) are too afraid of offending those sensibilities and revert to half-statements and banal trivialities that don't reflect the sort knowledge I'm referencing here. I believe that good criticism is given with an awareness that these terms of definitive value do not apply. The critic doesn't have the answers, nor speaks for everyone. But guided by a strong grounding in the history, the theory, and a lifetime of listening, their criticism will serve as the starting point for our community discussion - serve as an example and model. The critic should be able to frame the debate clearly, noticing things that others may not notice, and provide a context that may otherwise be hidden. The critic can also offer up comparisons, both historical and contemporary, and provide a summary of the extra-musical circumstances.

It has clearly become an unpopular concept, but the music critic is, in essence, a public intellectual. (I'm not sure why the idea of scholars and experts, and the idea of learning rather than dismissing, have become so unpopular, but they have.)

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Okay, returning to our letter to the editor, the primary contention was that Ms. Newton's word choice of "gooey" was just too much of an insult to the Rachmaninoff Symphony. Well, perhaps. But let us check the source first, shall we.

Utah Symphony Rachs on

We are not amused.

Minczuk's [the conductor] refreshingly light touch, coupled with decisive tempos, brought out the work's folk flavor much more than the heart-on-sleeve romanticism for which Rachmaninoff is beloved -- and reviled -- the world over.

An interesting, if somewhat banal, introduction to the Rachmaninoff. But it does touch upon the stylistic connotations with this work, and other works of the era. This seems like a perfectly acceptable line of criticism with which to proceed. Many people may not know this, but the over-the-top lushness of late romantic works such as this one, do induce hatred amongst some. This is highly affected music and is, therefore, somewhat polarizing. Point well taken, Ms. Newton.

And, in addition, Ms. Newton has already begun to offer up her opinion of this given performance by praising the conductor's "light touch" and "decisive tempos". And these are comments both germane to a discussion of the embracing of the "romanticism" inherent in the work, and to her specific enjoyment of the performance.

He even brought the orchestra through the third movement, which boasts one of the gooiest principal themes in the symphonic repertoire, with its dignity intact.

Oh. There's that word "gooey".

[For those of you unfamiliar with the work, you can listen to it here.]

figure goo: Rachmaninoff Symphony No. 2, 3rd movement

Now, to me, this is primarily a positive review. Ms. Newton obviously enjoyed the performance, which should have satisfied Ms. Murdock and her "The job of a critic is to comment on how well the orchestra plays." But yes, it does acknowledge a certain personal bias that the critic may have about lushly orchestrated music (she does not make her opinion explicit in the article other than to praise this "light" performance).

However, our critic of critics also basically accused Ms. Newton of not appreciating the "loveliness and sublime beauty" in the work. Well, I suppose that Ms. Newton doesn't categorically attribute her positive review to the inherent loveliness of the Rachmaninoff. But, obviously, there's more to like about the performance. Yes?

The brass section played with just the right degree of bluster, the woodwind solos were all spot on, the strings displayed a nice transparency and the percussionists delivered plenty of punch. Nearly as impressive, though, was the sleight of hand by which Minczuk produced his baton from within his jacket for the finale after conducting the third movement without it.

While I think that these sections from the original review make it clear that our letter to the editor probably didn't read the review very closely, that's sort of the point. She didn't really read the review, and doesn't really know how to digest music criticism. Ms. Murdock perceived a slight offense at what she held as the opinion on Rachmaninoff Symphony No.2 and anything that deviated from that opinion was viewed more as an attack than as, what it really is, analysis and interpretation. In other words, she doesn't like criticism.

So, why am I bothering to take on this meaningless letter to the editor? Clearly, I don't intend to simply criticize, because I think this is easily dismissed and ignored. But, she just doesn't get it. She doesn't understand what a music critic does, and as has been my experience, her opinion echoes that of many who, in their ignorance, have contributed to the diminishing and devaluing of the public intellectual/critic in our communities.

Her letter, while insignificant, requires a response, because I believe in the role of classical music in our society. And part of that is a public discourse led by experts, advocates and teachers.

As a quick aside, let me finish my argument with a quote from infamous food critic, Anton Ego,who you may remember from the film "Ratatouille":

"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations, the new needs friends... Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere."

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Now, that I've had my say, please let us know what you think. What is the role of the critic?

New Music ruins yet another concert...

I love reading reviews of open-mindedness and personal discovery. Where the world of art and music grows just a little bit bigger, and everyone learns an important lesson. Thus was the case for Dorothy Chen in the Columbia Daily Spectator.

Never before have I seen the struggle for acceptance of new music so perfectly capsulized.

Review: Closing Concert of Carnegie’s China Festival

Vivid title.

Something very odd happened at Carnegie Hall tonight. Of the two pieces performed by the Shanghai Symphony, the first received a standing ovation, the second a couple of forced hand claps.

This is odd. In my recent experience, no matter how terrible the orchestra plays, the crowd erupts into standing ovations.

I wonder what piece got the shaft? I hope it's something by Édouard Lalo...I hate that guy.

The night began with Lang Lang’s performance of the time-honored Piano Concerto No.2 in C Minor by Sergei Rachmaninoff.

Nothing like "time" as the ultimate judge of the value of a piece of music.

Despite it being one of my favorite piano pieces, I was immediately disappointed by the opening of tonight’s performance. It literally felt like a jumbled mass. It was as if the musicians are coming in cold and need some time to warm up, to become comfortable with each other’s sound.

Literally felt like a jumbled mass.

Literally? I guess if it was literal, it begs the question what a jumbled mass is exactly.

Let's ask Google images.

figure jumbled mass: Is this about right?

But after getting through a more-or-less rough start, the scattered sounds began to co-exist harmoniously.

What a powerful message about love and peace, man.

figure harmony: Rachmaninoff at the end of the moderato.

This transition came about at the end of moderato, as if the musicians have suddenly found their sparks.

As a composer myself, that's always where I hide my sparks as well.

Henceforth, the performance became much more enjoyable. In the end, Rachmaninoff’s coda in C was what saved tonight’s performance from mediocrity. It completely eased any discomfort I had about the beginning. Judging from how the quality of this concerto has evolved in the mere 33 minutes of its performance, I for one believe a standing ovation to be well-deserved.

Wow...lots of extraneous words in that paragraph. But more importantly, the plot thickens. We know that one piece "received a standing ovation", and the other "a couple of forced hand claps."

At first I was worried that the time-honored Rachmaninoff would only get a few forced claps. Whew. It'll have to the next piece.

...I wonder what it could be? I hope it's by Michael Haydn...I hate that guy.

Intermission.

Ahh, good...a smoke break

figure intermission: Let's all go the lobby.

...15 wasted minutes later...

Okay, we're back. So what composer's pile of puke awaits only a couple of forced hand claps? I hope it's by H. Owen Reed...I hate that guy.

Then came eminent composer Chen Qigang’s “Iris dévoilée”.

Eminent composer Chen Qigang? Damn. I only like my composers to be pre-eminent. Surely this can't be the piece that will suck ass....it's not by Louis Spohr. (I hate that guy.)

This piece, if described positively,...

well, don't go out of your way or anything...

...is a portrayal of the universal female archetype in nine movements;...

...just like Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, if I read my Susan McClary correctly...

or, if spoken of negatively,...

If you speak positively of something, it seems only fair to speak negatively of it as well...

...intervals of piquant female screams separated by much-needed silences specially designed for disgruntled audience members to flee the scene (many of whom did preciously that).

I've never heard this piece before, but this sounds fair and balanced to me.

Chen Qigang, having studied at the Central Conservatory of Music in China, moved to France at the age of 33 to study with Olivier Messiaen, a composer of contemporary music. Hence, much of Chen Qigang’s repertoire could be placed under the category of new music,...

"new music"...? What's that? Let's ask Google images!

figure new music fun: Yeah! New music looks awesome!

But could it be...

figure miley: On second thought...that sounds awful.

I guess I would have thought that it was music that was actually recently composed. But I guess it's more complicated than that. What did studying with Messiaen do to her music?

...as they sometimes evoke emotional extremes.

Her music was bi-polar? That does sound dreadful. All that damned emotion in her piece. When will composers learn that people just hate it when their compositions have emotional content and meaning? Jeez.

But that's still a bit lacking in terms of a definition. I think an anecdote would help straighten us out.

A catharsis of sorts, as shown by the old lady who sat two seats away from me, who began to laugh hysterically midway through the piece. Other than this interesting fact...

Wait...what interesting fact? That one old lady laughed? Yeah, I guess you're right...that is interesting. Can't wait to call Sator.

...though, “Iris dévoilée” was quite poorly received tonight.

No?! Really?

Facing these two vastly different receptions, it becomes difficult to comment on the concert as a whole.

Come on. Give it a try.

But I will say this: If the aim of this closing event was to act out the name of the China festival “Ancient Paths, Modern Voices”, then the programming did a wonderful job juxtaposing the traditional with the new.

Exactly, by juxtaposing a great work of music with this piece of shit, they did a wonderful job of putting traditional and new together.

However, if Chen Qigang’s piece was included as a representation of the Chinese music scene, then the audience was misled.

I didn't realize that you were an expert on the Chinese music scene. As someone who isn't, who would be an appropriate representation?

For such a depiction would be the equivalent of taking John Cage to be a prime example of “American music”, if such a thing even exists.

Yeah! Fuck John Cage! (I hate that guy sooooo much.)

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Great. Article.

Did Shaft Kill All of the Editors?

It's been apparent for some time now that the traditional print newspaper is in trouble. Not only little outlets are flailing--some of the bigger papers (see the Rocky Mountain News!) are going under.

Naturally (in the United States), as in public education, the arts are one of the first casualties in newspapers trying to stay solvent.

In many places, the "Arts" (or similar section(s)) are merely listings of upcoming events, and reviews are relegated to online-only or blog-only status. This, in addition to depriving the reader of information/opinion, has the following chilling effects:

1) The "review" is often only a perfunctory blog entry;

2) The reviewer can be given too many assignments to perform adequately;

3) The reviewers are often spread too thin, over a variety of media;

4) The nature of the "blog" review, as opposed to something that will appear in print, is often inadequately edited; sometimes, indeed, it seems, not edited at all.

We cannot, therefore, put the full blame on the reviewer when things turn out poorly.

Sure, we have room for pages and pages of full-color pics of what who-gives-a-fuck wore to the Oscars. And, as noted, print newspapers are hurting right now.

So it's frustrating when a hard-working staff and/or freelance writer like Jeanne Claire van Ryzin is forced into extra duties. She writes for the Austin American Statesman about, well, about everything musical that's not some kid in a coffee shop with his guitar or new band that thinks they'll get "discovered" at this year's SXSW. She covers music, visual art, dance, theater, and Jeebus knows what else...

...now, mostly, on her paper-hosted blog. She gets basically no in-print column inches, er, of which to speak.

Apparently editing, fact-checking, and spell-checking have been eliminated from the budget as well.

Review: A heaven-sent Rachmaninov's Vesper's

Hmm. Well. Good start JCvR, or whoever titles your blog posts...except for the part where "Vespers" [Wikipedia, sorry] is plural, and not possessive. Which is spelled--or, rather, punctuated--correctly for the rest of the review. Anyhow, proceed:

Grammy-nominated Austin choir Conspirare

While Conspirare may be good--and by all accounts they are--"Grammy-nominated" is about as impressive as "breathing humans." Even "Grammy Award-Winning" would put one in such exalted company as Michael Bolton and Hootie and the Blowfish.

Fig 1: A Grammy Award Winner

Grammy-nominated Austin choir Conspirare stunned and awed Saturday night with a heaven-sent (and sold-out) performance of Rachmaninov’s stirring Vespers at St. Martin’s Lutheran Church.

Heaven-sent, eh? Going for the religious angle on the ol' Vespers (AKA All-Night Vigil, Op. 37)? Let's see how that goes.

Hushed and full of reverence, Rachmaninov’s religious mass for unaccompanied chorus is exquisitely beautiful and a departure from the lush piano music or emotive symphonies for which the Russian composer is most commonly known.

Keeping track of adjectives, Rachmaninov's Vespers are:

Hushed, full of reverence, (exquisitely) beautiful

and not:

lush (like his piano music) or emotive (like his symphonies).

Considered the crowning achievement of Russian Orthodox choral music

Considered by whom? Critics? Experts? Many? How about a citation? Vague reference?

Considered the crowning achievement of Russian Orthodox choral music, the Vespers follow the rules governing the church’s music with no instruments accompanying the voices.

An awkward, if factually true sentence. Pass.

And yet, while Rachmaninov echoes the melodic style of traditional Orthodox Church chants

Well, to be accurate, 10 of the 15 sections of the Vespers are actually based on Russian Orthodox chants. And yet, while I guess this could be considered an "echo" of sorts, this is somewhat misleading. A minor point, albeit one that took me all of 30 seconds of research.

And yet, while Rachmaninov echoes the melodic style of traditional Orthodox Church chants, he nevertheless brings an undeniable — though carefully considered — sensuousness...

Vespers: Hushed, full of reverence, (exquisitely) beautiful, sensuous (undeniably);

Not: Lush, emotive.

And yet, while Rachmaninov echoes the melodic style of traditional Orthodox Church chants, he nevertheless brings an undeniable — though carefully considered — sensuousness with harmonies refined to almost a pure essence.

Read the last bit again:

...with harmonies refined to almost a pure essence.

I don't know what that means. Essence of what? Harmony? Sensuousness? Gelfling?

Fig 2: Skeksis Likes Essence, Too!

The fervid intent of the music’s spirituality is undeniable.

The piece...which was written for a church service, based upon traditional chants, intends to be...spiritual. Glad we sussed that one out. Also, using the word "undeniable" in both sentences of a two-sentence paragraph somewhat undermines its emphatic purpose.

Conspirare director Craig Hella Johnson

Seriously? That is awesome. My official unofficial blog middle blog name is now "Hella". Fuck and yes.

Conspirare director Craig Hella Johnson intimately understood the balance between the simplicity and sensuousness of Rachmaninov’s other-worldly score.

Vespers: Hushed, full of reverence, (exquisitely) beautiful, sensuous (undeniably) balanced with simplicity, otherworldly;

Not: Lush, emotive.

Does it seem like any of the words in the "not" category could easily be moved into the "Vespers descriptors" category? I think the difference in the sense of the review would be close to nil.

The choir’s intonation and vocal blend was seemless and perfect, the soloists appropriately soft, the basses gently hit the low B flats. St. Martin’s high-valuted sanctuary provided lovely — and appropriate — acoustical depth and resonance for the spiritually exalting music.

Wait, was this religious music? Because you totally forgot to mention that.

Conspirare’s exacting perfection never translates to stiff, pretentious or distant. Quite the opposite. There’s a sincerity and prescence that underlies every Conspirare concert. No wonder the audience on Saturday hushed on its own before anyone took the stage: The sublime beauty of Conspirare exudes always.

Lastly: "prescence" is, as far as I can tell, more of a common misspelling than a word.

Hopefully, in my overly-long preamble, I explicated my real complaint: The arts are getting the shaft so badly, not only are they losing printed space, but even the most cursory editing is eschewed.

Fig 3: He's coming for you, Arts coverage

The Ol' Can of Corn

This is probably how I, too, would describe Yefim Bronfman’s performance of Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto:

The third [movement] was tintinnabulating, but with Sinatra songsmanship, delicate partnering with the orchestra, and, above all, stamina.

But then again, for good measure, I would insert a baseball reference so not to seem too unhip, what with the Sinatra reference and all.

Bronfman was brushing back the hitters, then catching the outside corner.

Sweet.

Like Gibson and Koufax in one: a virtuoso in action.

Bob Gibson: retired 1975.
Sandy Koufax: retired 1966.
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Help Wanted: Only Schenker Students Need Apply

This is how “classical” music gets its reputation: through subtle sublimation couched in amusing puff pieces like this one.

Classical music helps soothe stressed dogs

Fantastic! Why don’t we put our kids in front of the TV so we can go out and catch some dinner at a nice $30 per person restaurant, where we’ll figure out how to anaesthetize the dog?

Subtitle:

Bay Area researcher-pianist team produces book, CD for dogs.

If only they had thumbs. And the dogs an ability to read. Drum kit: pah-dum, tss!

With dog treats spilling out of her black canvas bag, Maria Skorobogatov proceeded through one of the Peninsula Humane Society’s kennels as classical music played from overhead speakers.

The occupants barked their hellos and stood on their hind legs to be noticed.

Is it just me, or is the personification of animals tiring?

But the animal behaviorist walked passed the chatty ones Tuesday and rewarded those who remained quiet and still.

“Hello sweetheart,” Skorobogatov said softly to one well-behaved dog.

Throughout her brief visit, music played.

“We want to see if it’s having any type of effect,” Skorobogatov said of the music. “We use sounds and visual aids to keep them mentally and physically stimulated. It also helps them relax and that gets them adopted.”

I don’t have a problem with this. We’ve seen before that classical music dissuades panhandlers from panhandling, crack dealers from dealing crack, and prostitutes from Dirty Sanchez-ing. Whatever does the job, right?

(Also, whew. I don’t have to spell that name again!)

So why bring this up?

The music played that morning originated on the other side of San Mateo County with Half Moon Bay resident Lisa Spector. The Julliard School graduate

Because we all know the only legitimate musicians are cultivated at Julliard.

and concert pianist collaborated with Joshua Leeds, a sound researcher in Marin, to study the impact of classical music has on dogs.

Because dogs need classical gas, too.

Two years of research and clinical demonstrations

“Demonstrations,” in case you’re taking note, is the scientific equivalent of Brian, from Monty Python’s The Life of Brian, asking, “Why don’t women go to stonings?” With a staunch reply, his mother answers, “Because it’s written that way.” I would prefer our scientists, even if they’re testing the effects of classical music on dogs, to perform experiments. Go control groups!

[the research] produced a book, “Though a Dog’s Ear: Using Sound to Improve the Health & Behavior of your Canine Companion,” written by Leeds and Susan Wagner, a board-certified veterinary neurologist.

Spector is the pianist on a 45-minute CD that Leeds produced to go with the book.

At this point, I’m thinking hippie bull, parental transference, guilt and gross puppy love—the wrong, wrong kind of puppy love. But what is your point, Empiricus? Be patient, my young apprentice.

It’s been Spector’s experience that when she tickled the ivories,

I hope we can all agree that clichés are fun, in the wrong, wrong kind of way.

dogs she took care of would move closer to her and fall asleep.

Take note that dogs fall asleep.

No more doggy angst—just peace and quiet.

Are we anaesthetizing or euthanizing Old Yeller?

“What calms people, calms dogs,” Spector said as her dog Sanchez slept at her feet.

This shit not only calms them down, it makes them fall asleep.

On the CD, she plays music of Bach, Chopin and Rachmaninoff, among other composers.

Rachmaninoff I get. But here we get to another point to be noted. She plays music. Sure, we could go in semantic circles all day and night if we tried to define music, but, BUT keep that in mind.

[...] she simplified the compositions and slowed the tempos to between 40 and 60 beats per minute to create simpler sounds.

Hear that Schenkerites? “Simplified.” Get your reduction goggles on. Be ready.

Still I would like to point out a couple more things.

Our sound researcher, Joshua Leeds asserts that

“There’s too much noise and too much input,” he said. “Our dogs are indicators of the stressed environment we live in.”

Emphasis mine.

Four different CDs were cut and tested on 150 dogs in homes and shelters. The one that had an overwhelming response was the simplified classical music performed on piano.

Seventy percent of dogs in kennels showed a reduction in stress, while 85 percent in households were calmed.

He goes on:

“We live in (a) world that is pretty over-the-top with all kinds of environmental stressors,” Leeds said. “We have to be conscious with what we are surrounding ourselves with.”

In other words, dogs are subjected to stressful environments, like us; dogs are calmed by classical music, like us.

Sweet. Now we’re primed for the $30 meat and potatoes.

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What we’ve seen above and here is that “classical” music can used as a tool to achieve certain tasks. Above, classical music is used to calm dogs. In the later, Beethoven et al were piped over loudspeakers at convenient stores to dissuade undesirables from loitering. What both “experiments” have in common is that music can be used as a depressant and deterrent, demonstrating that music, specifically “classical,” has extra-enjoyment properties, stuffs that reach beyond the Detritus’s normal range of analytic critique. That is, “classical” music is not just for enjoyment or to provoke serious and deep thought—it has other properties, too. Musical therapy is one that comes to mind.

I whole-heartedly accept this. What I find irritating, and more on point to the Detritus’s goal, however, is hidden between the lines.

First, this experiment, or as so aptly described above as a “demonstration,” plays with parallel narratives—one, of the problems concerning dogs, the other about us and our problems. Because Joshua Leeds closely connects environmental stress between dogs and humans, the implication is that “classical” music may have the same anaesthetizing properties between species, whereas rock and pop music does not. This made painfully clear by Sanchez falling asleep at the faintest hint of “classical” music. What can we conclude? That “classical” music can be a powerful depressant for us, too. As if “classical” music didn’t already suffer from the stigma of potentially boring people, here’s a pseudo-scientific “demonstration” informing Average Joe that it is, in fact, boring.

Do you want to know exactly how boring? Near the top of the page of the article, there’s a couple of mp3 links of excerpts from the CD. They’re on the right-hand side. Go ahead, give ‘em a listen.

WAKE UP! YOU STILL THERE? Good.

Now go listen to the originals. Here’s Beethoven Op. 13, Second Movement. And here is Bach’s Prelude in C Major, BWV 1096.

Even for those of you who haven’t had 30 grueling years of Kostka and Payne (blecht), you’ll be able to recognize that the pieces on the doggie CD are... well... very simplified, or reduced, compared to the originals. Rhythm has been eliminated for the most part. What’s left is merely the harmony, like a class exercise—not so much musical but technically proficient.

Granted, these class exercises are of the highest quality (I’d give ‘em an A+)—that’s why they’re Bach and Beethoven—but, nevertheless, they are reductions of the masterpieces, not the pieces themselves. This is where I find another problem. At what point of reduction (yeah I’m asking you, you Schenkerites) can we still attach the names Bach and Beethoven to these increasingly nondescript chorales? I know I’m inching very close to the question of intellectual property, but that’s not where I’m going.

What I am saying is that the doggie pianist still attaches Beethoven and Bach’s names to these rather non-musical reductions (insert discussion about what is or isn’t musical here). By doing so, and at the same time trying to anaesthetize dogs, which is given some measure of credibility by a scientist’s research (?), Beethoven and Bach, specifically, are taking one on the chin. They are boring. Two masters whose names are entrenched in the collective consciousness are boring!

On the brighter side, if you’ve kept your harmony exercises and Schenkerian reductions, I know a field ripe for exploitation.

For someone who read this article with little or no interest in classical music but loved dogs, what might he or she come away with? Beethoven and Bach are boring? Classical music is boring? So boring you can put dogs to sleep with it? So boring it can be researched and studied? If I listened to classical music, I can relieve my stress through boredom?

It comes as no surprise that the San Francisco/Bay Area classical music radio station 102.1 KDFC, every weekday at 2PM and 7PM, air a program titled the “Island of Sanity.” It’s their

signature midday getaway—three pieces of calm, comfortable, KDFC classical.

It’s designed to mitigate your stressful workday. Like I said above, I don’t have a problem with using classical music as a tool for something else, like stress relief. I take issue with our media outlets who refuse to engage their audiences with lively discussion or adventurous and stimulating programming.

What really kills me is that every day an article is written about how shitty modern music is—it’s academic, it’s elitist, it’s emotionless, etc.—and how “tonal” music is much better. In fact, I bet tonal composers receive four to five times the number of qualifying adjectives than those under Schoenberg’s evil, serialist, tonal-center-hating regime, even though they can, and have been, elitist and academic. But when poorly conceived doggie CDs are written about in a major newspaper, ones that equate classical music, in general, with stress-relief through boredom, I have an even greater bone to pick. It blindly condemns all classical music, tonal, modern, what have you, to an existence solely as a background for meditation. I ain’t cool with that.

Compound the crappy articles about music and dogs with rabid connoisseurship and hefty prices at the symphony, and I might as well quit this music thing altogether!

Is anyone out there who has a problem with all of this dreck? Is there anything to be done about it? Does the free market really have the final say? Am I insane? Is my dog insane?

(Tired of ranting. Commits suicide, again.)
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Oh No He Di'int!

The Minnesota Star Tribune actually printed this. It’s by a special writer named Larry Fuchsberg. The title?

Minnestoa Orchestra and a peculiar troika

If you’re not familiar with the word “troika,” I will graciously define it for you. Well not me, the Free Dictionary.

troika: n.; A team of three horses abreast.

Why do I bring this up, you may ask? Because he calls Jennifer Higdon a horse.

As Captain Hook might say, if he was real and not a fictional pirate, who probably wouldn’t even frequent Minnesota anyway, especially in winter because it’s so darn cold and there’s not much money to be made from piracy that far up on the Mississippi—if he read this, he’d scoff: Bad form.

On a brighter note, another horse is Rachmaninov.
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Exciting Economic Report

Before I get going, I need to apologize for two things. One, I try to make it a policy to only go after music critics who write reviews (or, as in the previous post, critics who make “liberal” use of the word review)—those who write for major daily newspapers. Unfortunately, I stumbled across this clunker, which is from an opinion blog associated with the L.A. Times. However, its author, Tim Cavanaugh, is widely respected for his political blog and opinions; so I don’t feel that bad. And this time, he says some strange things about music. Second, I don’t like going after the blogs of bloggers. But, I can’t resist. So I’m forgoing ethics, just this once, hopefully. Sorry.

I’m sure that it goes without saying that music, especially “classical” music, is not terribly profitable, which forces or, more likely, directs composers to seek financial stability in academia. Tim Cavanaugh has a problem with this, as I do. But not for the same reasons.

Sound of money: free-market economies and long-hair music

Longhair does not need to be hyphenated. But I don’t care about that, this time. What’s important is that we’re going to discuss the free-market. Is it good for “classical” music? Is it bad? Something along those lines, anyway.

KUSC ran a richest-classical-composer feature a few days ago, which drew its top-10 list from a 2005 survey by a U.K. radio station.

There’s a link to this in Tim’s blog. In it, the survey adjusts composers’ salaries and commissions for inflation. Its purpose, to simply compare financial success among composers across different eras. And to Tim’s surprise some names were absent.

It's unlikely the numbers — which were apparently calculated in adjusted currencies — have changed much since then, so here's the list:

1. George Gershwin
2. Johann Strauss II
3. Giuseppe Verdi
4. Gioachino Rossini
5. George Frideric Handel
6. Joseph Haydn
7. Sergei Rachmaninoff
8. Giacomo Puccini
9. Niccolò Paganini
10. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Why is this interesting (to me at any rate)? Because longhair music is pretty much universally recognized as an art form that can't compete in an open market and must be supported through royal or (these days) public patronage. Yet this list is remarkable for the lack of patronage its members enjoyed.

A thesis! Financially successful composers were antithetical to general economic knowledge.

All but two of the composers on the list date to the industrial revolution or afterward, and the two who came earlier than that — Haydn and Handel — did plenty of lucrative for-profit work in Britain, which boasted the most liberal economy in Europe. Verdi, Rossini and Puccini were all piece-work producers who were less interested in pleasing the royal ear than in filling up the house with paying customers. Paganini and "Waltz King" Strauss were expert self-promoters and brand builders, Rachmaninoff made much of his fortune on recordings and performances, and Gershwin made it to the top of the list strictly by producing music for a large popular audience. I'm not sure he ever got a dime of public support.

For the most part, I agree with the above analysis. Those composers were, and still are, financially successful. These guys filled seats; in some cases, to do so, they pandered.

By comparison, Richard Wagner, another 19th-century rock star with a long list of patrons and supporters including a king who built the composer his own mansion and theme-park/mini-city, didn't make the list. That's a special irony given how massively popular Wagner was and still is, not just in opera houses but throughout the popular culture.

He is still popular, to a degree. What are we supposed to learn from this?

You could counter that money earned is no indication of musical achievement,

Yes. I could counter with that. But, then again, we weren’t talking about musical achievement. We were talking about how financially successful composers did not require patronage, thus bucking common knowledge off its horse.

and that wastrels like Wolfgang Mozart and Franz Schubert, or humble workers like J.S. Bach, would top a list of actual composing value.

They would. (I think “wastrel” is a little archaic. Don’t you?) So give some counterpoint, buddy boy.

True enough, but hardship and poverty are the default positions of human existence.

Like Jeb and his comatose brother.

It's success that's the unusual thing,

“Financial” success, not success, which we already knew, and agreed upon.

and the numbers here indicate [financial] success becomes a little more likely in a profit-centered environment.

In other words, in order to make a lot of money, i.e. be “financially” successful, you should focus on making a profit. Those words of wisdom would moisten Benjamin Graham’s eyes.

Interestingly, Gershwin and Rachmaninoff, who both died before the middle of the 20th century, are the most recent names on the list. Audience indifference has since encouraged classical composers to avoid the uncertainty of the marketplace;

There have always been only a few composers who wee able to make a living solely by composing—the lucky ones, like John Adams. Hell, even Beethoven taught piano lessons.

but maybe all those composers with academic sits would have been better off trying to make a bigger buck.

Again, his point: if you want to make a bigger buck, try to make a bigger buck. Foolproof! How come no one ever thought of this before?

What I find funny, though, is that many of the composers on the list wouldn’t necessarily be financially successful today, much less “in the canon,” without the exploitation of their music in commercials, television shows or movies.

So, I’d like to try an experiment. Guess the piece that I have linked with the composer. Are you correct? Have you it heard before? If so, where?

1. George Gershwin
2. Johann Strauss II
3. Guiseppe Verdi
4. Gioachino Rossini
5. George Frideric Handel
6. Joseph Haydn
7. Sergei Rachmaninoff
8. Giacomo Puccini
9. Niccolò Paganini
10. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Were you right? Okay, I admit that the Haydn is tough, and I could have found a better Rachmaninoff (but Shine crossed your mind, didn’t it?). Either way, can you think of a second melody by these guys? In some cases, I’m very hard pressed to do so. Now how about Beethoven, the financially crippled piano teacher? Of course you can.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm saying, except that the free-market influences the canon. And one hit wonders like Rachmaninoff, Leoncavallo and Pachabell benefit.
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