The 21st Century Philharmonic

Glenn Branca has an entry in his New York Times blog in which he programs a season of his imaginary "21st Century Philharmonic" [the link is subscription only]. A couple of representative programs:

REICH Triple Quartet
ADAMS Guide To Strange Places
ADAMS Slonimsky’s Earbox
FELDMAN Violin and Orchestra
CARTER Holiday Overture

STALLING Selected Music From Bugs Bunny and Porky Pig
ROTA Music for the Films of Fellini
MORRICONE Music for the Films of Sergio Leone
BARRY Music for the James Bond Movies
HERRMANN Selections from the Soundtracks

TAKEMITSU Twill by Twilight (In Memory of Morton Feldman)
IVES Central Park in the Dark
IVES Fugue in Four Keys on “The Shining Shore”
MESSIAEN La Ville d’en haut
BRANCA Symphony No. 11

He also has 9 programs consisting entirely of commissions, and all-Xenakis, all-Messaien, all-Glass, all-Reich, all-Scelsi programs, and complete performances of Ligeti's Le Grande Macabre, Strauss's Elektra, Sondheim's Anyone Can Whistle, and Weill's Dreigroschenoper. While there's a lot more to it, that gives a sense of what Branca's thinking of for this orchestra.

What struck me, though, wasn't the exercise, but the comments people left. Naturally, it's a very personal thing to plan a season for such an orchestra, and he left off pieces I'd view as musts (and he'd probably look at my selections with puzzlement). Most of the comments consist of people asking how could he leave out such-and-such composer (from Schoenberg and Stravinsky to Golijov and Tan Dun). Many agree with the sentiment of the project, wishing that such an orchestra existed.

Two of them, however, struck me as very odd.

Guess we “old fogies” have no rights whatsoever. The diletantes have spoken.Remember please that theirgeneration [sic] invented the comedy of rock and roll.

What do us “social security types” and “old fogies” know about music? Aside from insulting an older generation, there is the implication that the music by Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, Bach, and the myriad of Baroque composers are no longer to be appreciated. Notwithstanding the professed views of these devotees “modern” music, I would be willing to wager that Beethoven’s music will be appreciated long after the purveyors of dissonance will pass from the scene.

I'm astonished that the inference from this exercise is that all the composers from "the box" would be impossible to hear in a world with a 21st Century Philharmonic. Beethoven isn't going anywhere; every year will continue to be a Mozart year. Why not make room for some newer music as well?

While I don't sympathize, I can understand why some people grumbled a little about the inclusion of the Wourinen commission on a BSO program last month. But to go so far as to say that no ensemble should be allowed to perform new music? That's a new level of closed-mindedness that is stunning.

Life is a Dream

When the prince is born, a prophecy is made: he will bring disaster to the kingdom. The king tells everyone he died and stows him in a tower on top of a mountain, where he cannot harm anyone. He stays hidden away from everyone's eyes, save one advisor. Only decades later is he finally introduced to the world, and even then, it's far too brief.

The premise of Lewis Spratlan's opera, after a play by the Spanish playwright Pedro Calderòn de la Barca, has unfortunate parallel's to the opera's history. It was written in 1978 on a commission by the New Haven Opera Theater. By the time it was ready to perform, the opoera company folded. It remained hidden away for another two decades, until Spratlan organized a performance himself, with the support of Amherst College. That performance was just act II, though, and was all too fleeting, even with the Pulitzer Prize it brought. Like Segismundo, it sits in a tower having experienced the real world ever so briefly, waiting to be liberated.

*

Calderòn's text lends itself to setting as an opera. Unlike many plays, which require significant shuffling and rewriting to become suitable libretti, James Maraniss's task was primarily to truncate his translation. The play's many long speeches serve as built-in arias. (This act does include two elaborations: where Calderòn calls for musicians to perform, he supplied a two-stanza madrigal text, and added a speech for Rosaura's lament to close the act.)

Spratlan handles the libretto nimbly. The best example, I think, is before Segismundo's entrance. Basilio and Clotaldo continue their conversation without changing the same musical style of their singing. Against, this, however, the orchestra leaves them behind and instead becomes source music. First they "noodle, as if warming up" (original instruction), before settling on a unison B-flat tuning note. The singers maintain their triple meter as the orchestra is reduced to a military band playing a duple march.

After the chorus welcomes Segismundo with a flourish, a "people's entertainment" follows. This section is scored as a solo violin playing in parallel fifths with a flute. What's remarkable is that even though I generally find parallel fifths grating, they sound good here. I think there are two reasons this works. First, the opera as a whole doesn't treat fifths as perfect consonants. By treating fifths sparingly, it's as if the interval becomes a dissonance. Second, the timbre of the violin and flute are different enough that they don't "lock in" the way they do when similar instruments play in perfect parallel invervals. This is followed by a madrigal in imitative counterpoint.

It's a travesty that the entire opera has never been performed or recorded. You can only hear it if you happen to know the right person. Ironically, Spratlan's recent opera "Earthrise" seems to be headed for a similar fate: although the San Francisco Opera commissioned it, they have yet to perform it publicly, citing budget difficulties. Both these operas deserve to be heard. In the story, Segismundo is liberated by an army, and given the opportunity to take his rightful place on his throne. It's time someone did the same for these operas.

Why people don't like new music.

From The Composer's Datebook

[2/4/]1837 - Franz Liszt performs a chamber recital in Paris, featuring the then-unfamiliar Piano Trios of Beethoven; At the last minute, the performers decided to reverse the printed order of the program, performing on the first half of the concert a trio by Pixis, and a Beethoven trio on the second half; The audience (and critics) warmly applaud the Pixis, mistakenly thinking it was the Beethoven work, and react coolly to the Beethoven, assuming it was by Pixis; Among the critics, only Berlioz notices the program switch.

Dinosaur Annex's Super Sunday

The good thing about the Patriots' stunning loss last week:

It removed the major obstacle to attending Dinosaur Annex's Young Composer's Festival. The concert will feature music by Mason Bates, Richard Whalley, Derek Jacoby (not to be confused with Sir Derek Jacoby), MissyMazzoli, Sergei Tcherepnin, and Sarah Kirkland Snider. As far as I can tell from the biographies, these young composers seem to be in the under 35 age bracket, rather than the under 50 that passes for young in the field today. The 7:00 concert at First Church on Marlborough St caps a full weekend of events.

This won't be the first Super Sunday Dinosaur Annex show I've attended. I had the good fortune to be at the long overdue permier of [Act II of] Lewis Spratlan's Life is a Dream, opposite what turned out to be a pretty good game. It was a pretty good opera too, though, earning that year's Pulitzer.


[edit: the rest of this post has been adapted into a stand-alone discussion of Life is a Dream here.]

1 + 1 = 1.3

My favorite formula is now 1 + 1 = 1.
-Tan Dun

By combining elements of Western music learned in conservatory and traditional Chinese music he learned growing up in rural Hunan province, Tan Dun's goal is to create a new, unified music that is neither Eastern nor Western. As such, I think that is the standard by which the opera should be judged: how well did it accomplish what the composer set out to do?

While I've long been a fan of Tan Dun, I have very little exposure to his operas. (I've heard the songs from "The Peony Pavilion" included on the album "Bitter Love," but have almost no sense of how it fits together as an opera. I don't know any of the music from Marco Polo or Tea.) The piece that most successfully synthesizes the musical styles is his 2000 Water Passion after St. Matthew. (Ironically, a passion setting is such a strictly Western form; there is no Chinese analogue for the religious oratorio.) He is able to integrate the Eastern folk tradition's emphasis on indeterminate pitch and techniques of using natural objects and throat singing into a moving telling of the death and resurrection of somebody else's savior. While Bach's setting of the same story inspired and influenced him, it comes through as a new and unique music. It is both Chinese and American, and yet neither at the same time. 1 + 1 = 1.

Unfortunately, The First Emperor is a step back. It is best when it stays in the framework of Tan's previous works. It opens with a masterly aria by the Taiwanese Peking opera star Wu Hsing-Kuo that is, unfortunately, the high point of the entire opera. The best of the remaining music is the interludes, where he lets the orchestra (and percussionists) cut lose. It is particularly strong when featuring the zheng (a Chinese zither), the waterphone, the Chinese ceremonial bell, and other instrumental specialties.

Where it falls short is what happens in between. It seems that Tan is almost trigger shy about his formulation of 1 + 1 = 1, and thus doesn't fully commit. While I can sympathize with his desire to take full advantage of a cast headlined by Placido Domingo, much of the singing falls into an almost dull Western arioso style. It isn't the Tan Dun I admire so; it's Tan Dun interspersed with Puccini. Tan became a great composer by exploring, and so many parts of the opera were content to just sit in a traditional lyricism.

Still, on the balance, it was an enjoyable opera. If I have any reservations, it's because my expectations were so high (despite the dozens of negative reviews). I hope that he will tighten act II a little and tone down the Westerness of the vocal lines prior to recording the work. Still, I anticipate taping the PBS broadcast and watching it over the air as many times as possible.



With such a predominantly Chinese creative team (ex-pats Tan, Ha Jin, and Hao Jiang Tian in addition to Zhang Yimou, Fan Yue, Huang Doudou and Wang Chaoge), I was curious to see what the opera's theme would be. Despite his early outsider films, Zhang Yimou's recent work has served as propaganda for the Chinese government. (The unity theme of "Hero" seems a clear enough statement to the Taiwanese, Tibetan, and Uyghur separatists; even Curse of the Golden Flower is about the importance of order and obeying authority.) I am pleased that The First Emperor's stands against the communist government, highlighting Qin's cruelty. In particular, the act of suppressing the old art for a new, truthful art was played out all too often during the tragic Cultural Revolution. And, as happens in the opera, suppressive government can lead to art more interested in exploring the truth than the government line. Gao's national anthem may as well have been Tan's own Snow in June.

The Ethical Dilemma

I recently met someone who minored in music at college and was an enthusiastic fan, but professed to not be interested in contemporary music. Much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, I'm an unashamed proselytizer of what I consider good music, which means that I often find myself stepping up to bat for the music of the past hundred years. (It is deeper than that, though; I also push early music and everything in between, if the need is there.)

My theory is simple: if people gave this music a chance, they'd fall in love with it too. If anyone is willing to listen, I'm willing to play the music for them. At the same time, I'm smart enough not to throw anyone in heads first into, say, some of Boulez's gnarlier scores or Einstein on the Beach. (I hated Einstein for years, but it got its claws into me, and I was only able to fight it off for so long. I now hold the final two sections are up there with any concluding movements of any piece of music ever written.)

It was easy enough to select some good pieces from the triumvirate of Schoenberg/Berg/Webern. Pick a track from Quartet for the End of Time and War Requiem. Throw in a couple of sonatas for prepared piano by Cage. "O King" from Sinfonia fits in nicely.

But then I hit the dilemma. The [post-]minimalist style is really hard to anthologize. The pieces tend to run long, and it's easy for the person to just get bored and skip ahead. As much as I love Gay Guerilla by Julius Eastman, I know it isn't the right place to start. So, then, my thoughts turn to On the Transmigration of Souls. While not particularly representative, it is an effective piece of music. (Making that even more tempting is the fact that this person's field is counter-terrorism.) Is highlighting Adams's pulitzer-prize winning piece manipulative or simply demonstrating that even today, classical music has something to say about the world?

BMOP's Angels

I'm not sure how much there is to say about Peter Eötvös's Angels in America. The music was excellent, even if in a slightly out-of-date style. There performances were strong. Dramatically, it was a huge stretch to cut 6 hours of play into two and a half hours of opera; if you try to think of it as a play, it will be very disappointing.

The tickets have sold well; the first three performances sold out, and Saturday's tickets are running out. Before the show last night, I remarked that I was impressed so many people in Boston had heard of Peter Eötvös, let alone were willing to go see an opera he wrote. My initial inclination was right, though. There were a number of disappointed people complaining during intermission. (They were at an opera by Peter Eötvös. What did they expect? It's not like Eötvös's music used to be easy listening, and then he had a sudden stylistic shift.) Still, I hope that the dramatic story opened some ears to a kind of music perhaps they hadn't heard previously.

Jewish music on the march

Jewish composers have come a long way since Solomone Rossi.

When I read that Ligeti passed away, my initial reaction was so passes the greatest Jewish composer since the war. As I thought about it more, though, I realized just how much Jewish comopsers owned the 20th century, from Mahler to Golijov, the way German composers owned the previous two.

It's hard to find an important movement of 20th century composition that didn't have Jews at the forefront. The father of them all, of course, is Schoenberg. Later twelve-tone adherents include Babbit and Rochberg. The more mainstream composers include Gershwin, Bernstein, and Copland. For the minimalists and post-, Steve Reich and Philip Glass lead the way. Even the experimentalists have Zorn. Looking at the list of American Jewish composers, and thinking about the non-American ones as well, it almost seems easier to make a list of non-Jewish composers of note.

It makes sense that Jewish composers would come into their own after the 19th century, as the reform movement and secularization took hold in Germany. While there were a handfull of of Jewish composers, including those that weren't actually Jewish (Mendelssohn), it took until the end of the century for the wide-spread influence to take hold.

I can't help but wonder what Wagner would think about Jewish music now that their music is so irrevocably tied to the history of 20th century music. While I don't excuse his anti-Semitism, the most famous Jewish comopsers of his day were inferior (Meyerbeer and Offenbach). I'd like to think that were he still alive, he'd have to concede that Jews wrote music every bit as good as his own.

For Webern, Brief means Long

Bernard Holland had a very odd line in his column last Sunday on juvenalia:

Then there is poor Anton Webern, whose reputation rests for a great many concertgoers on youthful Mahlerian effusions like "Im Sommerwind," a brief, playable piece that serves as a convenient escape for orchestra administrators wanting to appear hip without actually having to risk alienating listeners.

I discovered Im Sommerwind from the newer Webern Box set. I found it to be quite a shock -- somehow, I wanted Webern to be be born fully formed, ready to write his Op. 1 Passacaglia. But that wasn't true, and so we're left with a handful of student pieces.

What's so striking about the orchestral idyll is the aspect that Holland manages to get completely wrong: it is anything but brief. At sixteen minutes, it's actually the longest thing Webern ever wrote. Webern's trademark concision isn't there yet. Instead this piece models itself on Mahlerian and Wagnerian expansiveness.

Probably the best description of it is that there's nothing wrong with it. Its sixteen minutes go by with great proficiency on Webern's part, but it doesn't sound like him at all. It's clearly the work of a raw talent in need of guidance. Fortunately for us Webern met Schoenberg soon after completing the idyll, and before too long wrote the perfect passacaglia.

I wouldn't say there's an inherint problem with programming Im Sommerwind. It's only problematic if it gets chosen as the token Webern piece at the expensive of the masterpieces like his Op. 21 Symphony.

The Full Text of Berio's Sinfonia

Luciano Berio
Sinfonia

[B2] il y avait sang [B1] Il y avait il y avait il y avait unoe fois un indien marié et père de plusieurs fils adultes, à l'exception du dernier né qui s'appelait Assaré. Un jour, un jour que cet indien était à la chasse, les frères, les frères

Quand l'océan s'était formé, les frères d'Asaré avaient tout de suite voulu s'y baigner. Et encore aujourd'hui, vers le fin de la saison des pluies, des pluies on les voit apparaître dans le ciel, dans le ciel, tout propres et removes sons l'apparence des sept étoiles des Pleiades ce mythe nous retiendra longtemps. [B2] aujourd'hui vers le fin de la saison de la saison des pluies des pluies des pluies dans le ciel dans le ciel cans le ciel

[tutti] Pluie douce appel bruyant [repeated several times, broken down into component syllables]

[7 voices] sang [solo] sang eau eau [7]eau [solo] eau sang [7] eau [solo] sang [tutti] sang [7] eau [solo] eau [7] sang [solo] eau céleste [7] eau [solo/7 antiphonally] eau céleste sang eau eau terrestre pluie, pluie, pluie, pluie douce, pluie douce de la saison sèche pluie, pluie orageuse, pluie orageuse de la saison des pluies bois eau, bois bois eau, bois pourri, bois, bois dur roc arbre arbre résorbé sous l'eau un fils privé de mere, un fils privé de nourriture héros honteaux, héros tuant, héros tué, héros furieux, musiques rituelle [7] eau sang céleste eau eau terrestre sang eau terrestre sang eau sang eau terrestre eau sang eau eau eau terrestre eau eau terrestre eau célestebois bois arbre résorbé bois dur bois dur résorbé arbre résorbé bois pourri les héros bois dur le héros héros furieux héros tué [tutti] musiques rituelle

[tutti] tuant tué

II
O KING

O King O Martin Luther King

III
IN RUHIG FLIESSENDER BEWEGUNG

[tutti] oh peripeti [T1] nicht eilen, bitte [S1] oh [A1] no [B1] recht gemä... [S2] quatrième symphonie [A2] duxième symphonie [T2] recht gemä... [S1] deuxième partie [A1] première partie [T1] quatrième partie [B1] troisième partie [T2] gemäche... [B1] In ruhig fliessender Bewegung [T1] sehr gemächlich nicht eilen [B1] keep going [tutti] peripetie [B1] peripetie where? [A1] and now? [B1] nothing more nothing more restful than chamber music [A1] when now? [T1] I, say I

[T1] You are nothing but an academic exercise [B1] no time for chamber music {...} we need to do something [S2] For though the silence here is almost unbroken it is not completely so he emerges as from heavy hangings. Hardly a resurrection [A2] we want that [A1] It seems there are only repeated sounds [T2] what? [A2] who? [T1] I prefer a wake [T2] why? [B1] Something is going to happen. So after a period of immaculate silence there seems to be a violin concerto being played in the other room in three quarters [A2] two violin concertos [S2] in three eights [A1] I am not deaf, of that I am convinced, that is to say half-convinced [T2] Keep going [B2] where now? [T1] With not even a small mountain on the horizon, a man would wonder where his kingdom ended [A1] where? [T1] Keep going [T2] what? [T1] a poem [B2] Keep going [T1] a danced poem, all round, and endless chain, taking turns to talk

[S2] Keep going [T1] This represents at least a thousand words I was not counting on. [A1] three thousand notes [T1] I may well be glad of them {...} But seeing Daphne and Chloé written in red, counting the seconds while nothing has happened but the obsession with the [B1] go on [A2] with the chromatic [S2] and the chromatic again [T2] Where now? [T1] I am in the air, the walls, everything yields, opens, ebbs, flows like the play of waves [S1] Keep going [B2] Yes, I feel the moment has come for us to look back, if we can and take our bearings if we are to go on. [T1] Yes, I feel the moment has come for me to look back. I must not forget this, I have not forgotten it. But I must have said it before, since I say it now. They think I am alive, not in a womb, either... Well, so there is an audience it's a fantastic public performance [B1] and the curtain comes down for the ninth time. [B1] You never noticed you were waiting. You were waiting alone, that is the show. Keep going.

[B1] I shall say my old lessons now, if I can remember it [T2] then I shall have lived they think I am alive, not in a womb, either, even that takes time.

[A1] it is [T2] keep going [A1] is it? [B1] keep going [T1] it is as if we were rooted, that's bonds if you like – the earth would have to quake. it isn't the earth, one doesn't know what it is [A1] But you all know that they will bring me to the surface one day or another and there will be a brief dialogue in the dunes [T1] maybe a kind of competition on the stage, with just eight female dancers and words falling. you don't know where, where now [A1] under the sun [T1] who now? But now I shall say my old lessons if I can remember it. I most not forget this. But I must have said it before, since I say it now.

I am listening. Well, I prefer, that, I must say I prefer that [A2] that what who you [T1] oh you know, oh you, oh I suppose the audience, well well, so there is an audience, it's a public show, you buy your seat and you wait, perhaps it's free, a free show, you take your seat and you wait for it to begin, or perhaps it's compulsory, a compulsory show...

you wait for the compulsory show to begin, it takes time, you hear a voice, perhaps it is a recitation, that is the show, someone reciting, selected passages, old favourites, or someone improvising, you can barely hear him, that's the show, you can't leave, you are afraid to leave, you make the best of it, you try to be reasonable, you came too early, here we'd need latin, it's only the beginning, it hasn't begun, he'll appear any moment, he'll begin any moment [A1] He is only preluding, clearing his throat, alone in his dressing room, or it's the stage-manager giving his instructions, his last recommendations before the curtain rises [tutti] that is the show [T1] that's the show waiting for the show, to the sound of a murmur, you try to be reasonable, perhaps it is not a voice at all, perhaps it's the air, ascending, descending, flowing, eddying, seeking exit, finding none, and the spectators, where are they, you didn't notice, in the anguish of waiting, never noticed you were waiting alone, that is the show, for the fools, in the palace, waiting [B1] the brightest star [T1] waiting alone that is the show [tutti] that is the show [T1] waiting alone in the restless air, for it to begin, while every now and then a familiar passacaglia [T2] (etwas zurükhaltend) [B1] not really [T1] filters through the other noises waiting, for something to begin, for there to be something else but you, for the power to rise, the courage to leave, picking your way through the crossed colors, seeking the cause, losing it again, seeking no longer. We shall overcome the incessant noise, for as Henri says, if this noise would stop there'd be nothing more to say. You try and be reasonable, perhaps you are blind, probably deaf, the show is over, all is over, but where then is the hand, the helping hand, or merely charitable, or the hired hand, it's a long time coming, to take yours and draw you away, that is the show, free, gratis, and for nothing, waiting alone, blind, deaf, you don't know where, you don't know for what, for a hand to come and draw you away, somewhere else, where perhaps it's worse. [S1+2] It's a real pleasure upon my word it is to be unable to drown under such conditions in a lake full of colors far from my walls [T1] where now? [A1] who now? [B1] keep going now [T1] when now? [G1] blood [A1] Just a small murder [T1] keep going [B2] hardly worth it, yet what can you expect [T1] they don't know who they are either [B1] did you hear? [T1] keep going [S2] Did you hear? [T2] stop [B2] stop [A1] do you hear? [T1] keep going [B1] Hören Sie? [T2] Dort! [B2] Heavens! There was a sound! [T1] yes, there! [B1] Ja, dort! [T2] Jesus! Das war ein Ton!

I am here so little, I see it, I feel it round me it enfolds me, it covers me, if only this voice would stop, for a second, [T1+2] it would seem long to me, a second of silence I would listen, [T2] I'd know if it was going to start again or if it was stilled for ever what would I know it with, I'd know. And I'd keep on listening [T1] I'd know if it was going to start again it's late now, and he is still talking incessantly, any old thing, repetition after repetition, talking unceasingly, in yourself, outside yourself

It's late now, he shall never hear again the lowing cattle, the rush of the stream. In a chamber, dimensions unknown, I do not move and never shall again on long road or short. But the fact is I trouble no one. But I did. And after each group disintegration, the name of Majakowsky hangs in the clean air.

And when they ask, why all this, it is not easy to find an answer. [S2] la mer, la mer toujours recommencée [T1] For when we find ourselves, face to face, now, here, and they remind us all this can't stop the wars, can't make the old younger or lower the price of bread [A1] say it again, louder! [T1] it can't stop the wars, can't make the old younger or lower the price of bread, can't erase solitude or dull the tread outside the door, we can only nod, yes, it's true, but no need to remind, to point, for it is all with us, always, except, perhaps at certain moments, here among these rows of balconies, in a crowd or out of it, perhaps waiting to enter, watching. And tomorrow we'll read that ................ [mentions composer and title of a work included in the same program] made tulips grow in my garden and altered the flow of the ocean currents. We must believe it's true. There must be something else. Otherwise it would be quite hopeless. But it is quite hopeless. Unquestioning. But it can't go on. It, say it, not knowing what. It's getting late. Where now? When now? I have a present for you. Keep going, page after page. Keep going, going on, call that going, call that on. But wait. He is barely moving, now, almost still. Should I make my introductions? {This voice introduces to the public the other seven singers.} But now it's done, it's over, we've had our chance. There was even, for a second, hope of resurrection, or almost, Mein junges Leben hat ein End. We must collect our thoughts, for the unexpected is always upon us, in our rooms, in the street, at the door, on a stage. Thank you, Mr. {full name of the conductor}

IV

[tutti] Rose de sang appel bruyant appel doux bruyant Rose de sang

V

[S1] Rose de sang Rose de sang appel bruyant appel bruyant doux appel appel doux [A1/2] Voilà voilà Il y avait, il y avait une fois un jeune, un jeune garcon qui suivit sa mere [T1] rose de sang Rose de sang [T2] Listen, listen, are you going already? Listen, listen, let me see your face once more [B1] nous voilà voilà where now? who now? And now? who now? [B1] Voilà quoi Voilà qui Voilà. Il y avait une fois. [B1,2] Il y avait un fois un indien, un indien marié et père de plusieurs fils adultes

[tutti] bruyant doux appel doux

[B1] Partiel ou proviso ire, ce dernier commentaire n'est pas convaicant, car il laisse de côté d'importants aspects de nos thèmes. [other seven voices repeat the following words and phrases] sang, pluie, bruyant appel, doux bruyant, vie, sang, feu [B1] appel bruyant mais pourtant, mais pourtant les thèmes sont là. Partout, ailleurs mais pourtent voilà [S2] Partiel ou provisoire, ce dernier commentaire n'est pas convaicant. [A1] mais pourtant les thèmes sont là [T1] mais pourtant, mais pourtant, mais pourtant les thèmes sont là, quie affirment la priorité [T2] Listen, let me see your face once more. Listen [B2] where now? Keep going [B1] Partout, ailleurs, les thèmes inversent la valeur de leur termes selon qu'il s'agit de retarded la mort ou d'assurer la resurrection [B2] Avant de terminer d'une façon provisoirement definitive (à Vienne on dit "définitivement provisoire") il faudrait résoudre quelque contradiction

[T2] mais partout les thèmes sont là, qui affirment [A2] les thèmes qui affirment la priorité de la discontinuité universelle des thèmes sur la continuité de [S1, S2, A1] un fils privé de mere [S2] un fils privé de nouriture [T1] il y avait, il y avait, il y avait un fois, un jeune, un jeune garcon qui suivit sa mere en cachette, la surprit et la voila. [T2,B2] sur la continuité de l'organisation interne à chacuns [B1] il y avait une fois un indien marié, père de plusieurs fils adunts à l'exception du dernier né qui s'appelait Asaré. Un jour que cet indien était à la chasse les frères d'Asaré à tour de role violèrent leur mere dans la maison des hommes. [T1] continuez M. {the name of 2^nd Bass} s.v.p. [B2] Persuadé de son infortune le père expédie son fils au "nid des âmes" [B1] Les coupables reçoivent de leur père une rude correction [B2] un: les âmes la grandmère lui recommande d'obtenir l'aide de l'oiseau mouche [B1] un: le crocodile. A sa demand les oiseaux pics le dissimulent sous un tas doux: Il lui échappe grâce aux perdrix qui consentent à le cacher sous la paille [B2] deux: l'animal secuétant cette fois la colombe au vol rapide. [T1] Trois: Asaré se cache sous les épulchures des gousses de yatoba. [B2] Trois: il est aide par la grande sauterelle, dont le vol est plus lent.[A1] Quartre: au beau milieu du fleuve il recontre un crocodile né d'une multitude de lézards qu'il avait lui-même tués pendant le voyage, et que les eaux grossissantes ont entraînés. [B2] Quartre: chasse les lézards qui abondent sur le plateau. Cinq: Du macabre festin il ne reste au fond de l'eau que les ossements décharnés, et les poumons surnagent sous forme de plantes aquatiques don’t les feuilles dit-on ressemblent à poumons. [A2] Cinq: Peu après, on les voit apparaîtres dans le ciel tout propres et rénovés sous l'apparence des sept étoiles des Pléiades. Six: Assaré arrive enfin chez son oncle qui attend le crocodile de pied ferme et l'inonde de son fluide-- [B2] Six: la grandmère ne sait trop comment parer à ce nouveau danger, mais elle remet à son petit fils un baton magique-- [S2] un jeune qui couchait en plein air, tombe amoureux d'une étoile [A2] Assez [B1] Listen [B2] non, pas ça [A2] L'esprit créateur que les homes seraient immortels. [T1] Listen are you going already? let me see your face once more [B2] l'esprit créateur avait décidé Il fallait les informer, et il choisit il choisit le caméléon [S2] et il choisit comme messager [A2] qui est un animal fort lent [S2] l'esprit malin, à l'affût d'un bon fond, alla porter aux homes la nouvelle [T1] la nouvelle qu'ils étaient mortels [B2] qu'ils étaient mortels Cela ne leur plût pas énormément [T2] Listen, are you going? [S2] mais ils finirent par se résigner tant bien que mal [T2] Let me see your face once more [A2] L'esprit créateur n'y pouvait plus rien [B2] Alors, alors, pour consoler les homes, il créa un esprit special. dont le role était de leur apporter de leur apporter...

[Tutti, repeat many times] péripétie, héroes tué

Music of the Other Place

Of the many things I'm taking away from my current Bach orgy is that I'm very happy I didn't live in the Baroque era. I obviously like Baroque music and that of Bach enough to even attempt the exercise. However, it makes me appreciate the time we live in, where we can listen to music written 2700 years ago or this year. More than that, we're not just restricted to what is happening locally; we can explore music from all over the world.

An excellent example of this smaller world was on display at Jordan Hall on Friday night, as the Boston Modern Orchestra Project performed "Concertos for Indigenous Instruments." The instruments in question covered different parts of Asia, including Korean barrel drums, a Japanese zither, a Persian flute, and Chinese percussion.

The program included two premiers. Jin Hi Kim's "Eternal Rock II," for Korean Barrel Drum Set and Orchestra was the better of the two. The stage had a novel set-up for a concerto, as Gerry Hemingway stood on a platform in the back of the stage. The instrument traditionally belongs in temples rather than the concert hall, giving the piece a ceremonial quality. Two percussionists standing in the front corners of the stage acted like priests, telling the orchestra when to begin and end.

For the most part, the concerto alternated between orchestral passages and solos on the barrel drums, with a little overlap. Kim used a variety of rhythmic technique, as each section had a different meter than the previous. (To great effect, an early cadenza in 5 was resolved to a tutti in 4, the way cadenzas would typically hover on the dominant.) Kim also utilizes polyrhythms and hemiolas to develop the unpitched instrument.

Korean music doesn't have the same sense of pitch that Western music's equal tempered scale uses. To fulfill a Buddhist ideal known as "living tones," Kim uses vibrato, slides, glassandi, and special articulation. Reza Vali had a similar challenge for his concerto, a wooden flute. In the Persian scale, notes can have slightly different pitches depending on their function. Vali used these almost unisons to great effect, including a long melody for what sound like out of tune woodwinds.

Vali's concerto for the ney, a Persian flute, was titled "Toward that Endless Plain." It was strongest during the movements that allowed the ney to show off its breathy tone. The long lines, modeled on improvisation, were expertly played by Khosro Soltani. The orchestra created an intricate sound carpet for the soloist. Most of the piece came across like an oversized chamber work. The notable exceptions were the prelude and interlude, known as "The Abyss." These two sections were the weakest part of the concerto. (I didn't like it when Stravinsky called it "The Rite of Spring.")

Two older works were also on the program. The concert concluded with Yi°, the first movement of a cycle of concerti based on the I Ching (易经). The most famous piece based on that work, of course, is John Cage's Music of Changes. Tan's work features similarly fragmented melodies. It wasn't much of a concerto, though. It's a shame they weren't able to present "The Map," with its rich use of Miao folk music, though it's very understandable.

The other piece on the program stood out. Even though it was written for the koto, a Japanese zither with movable bridges, it was written by American Henry Cowell. This was a far cry from his earlier avant garde music. It featured a short conjunct melody harmonized in very different ways, starting with very simple, consonant harmonizations. As the piece continued, dissonance appeared and disappeared (including some very crunchy parallel half-steps). Masayo Ishigure played the solos.

Overall, it was a very strong performance by the BMOP, with a great program. Their final Jordan Hall performance, "Big Band," features music of Gershwin, Babbitt, and Bernstein, along with a commission by William Thomas McKinley.

Beethoven's Masterly Melodies

Alex Ross is hosting a faux-commercial featuring the Masters of 12-Tone Music on his blog. It was a collaberation between long-time Cleveland radio host Robert Conrad and the Clevland Orchestra conductor Matthias Bamert. It's worth a listen, although I didn't find it particularly funny. I realize that it's just a parody, and I shouldn't take it so personally, but sometimes that's easier said than done.

It made me think about a similar commercial one could make for Beethoven's greatest hits, featuring the monotone melody of the second movement of the seventh, the four-note melody of the violin concerto, the kitchiness of Wellington's Victory, the minute of emphatic C-major chords that closes the fifth, the "gloriously arching melody" of the finale of the ninth, and so on. It's all about context. If you take snippets of Second Viennese School music out of context, it sounds ridiculous, but so does Beethoven.

Which brings me to one of my biggest frustrations. There's a sentiment I hear all the time, expressed rather succinctly as a reader posting in Artsjournal's Critical Conversations series back in the summer of '04:

In answer to ArtsJournal.Com's apparently serious, and thus pretentious question "[W]hether or not it is still possible for a Big Idea to animate classical music" may I offer the following as a possibilty: Melody.........singable, danceable, hummable, organ-grindable, uplifting, happiness-making, inspiring, lasting and eternal Melody.

I'll never understand why John McBaine and others are so hard on Beethoven. His melodies were across the board terrible. Most of his symphonies only have one decent melody the whole time. These aren't miniatures; in the entire thirty-five minutes of the fifth symphony, for example, or the fifty minutes of the third, there's just one good melody each. Quite the opposite of "lasting and eternal Melody." What about his greatest accomplishment, the ninth? The first movement has no discernible melody (going by the organ-grinder test); the second's melody is too hurried and disjointed to hum; the third movement eventually settles in to a nice melody, but it takes a couple of variations to finally get there; and the fourth features a melody that would embarrass someone writing songs for the beer hall. If one were to apply a red marker to clean up the bad melodies in Beethoven's ninth, the result would last about six minutes. I for one am very happy, knowing that Beethoven cared little enough about melody to write his entire opera the way he did.








I hadn't been planning to go to Schoenberg's 1st Chamber symphony/Beethoven's 9th this week at the BSO, but now I'm all fired up and ready to get my tickets.

Normally a Just Malaise

The plan was a weekend in New York, then get home in time to start my new job Monday morning. I'd make it to hear Spem at MoMA, shop at academy, eat at that Chinese Muslim restaurant out in Brooklyn, and feel very content on my way home. Then the blizzard came.

I fled the city, trying to stay ahead of the record snow. With some trepidation, I put disc 2 of Unjust Malaise on the hi-fi. Perhaps it was the wrong choice. 84 is such a mind-numbing highway, seemingly endlessly bland. Especially when driving its 120 miles alone, it's hard not to stay out of a stupor. The music would surely make it worse, with its own seemingly endless repetitions.

The opposite was true, though. If anything, the music brought the blandness of the driving into focus. It provided motion to what otherwise appeared still. (It's some achievment of the highway that 65 mph seems like not moving at all.) The endless road reached the Mass Pike quickly.

Surprisingly, I've found the antidote to I-84 in Connecticut.

Keep Going: The Text of the Third Movement of Berio's Sinfonia

[Editorial note: Here is a more flowing transcription of the third movement; the transcription of the entire work, in a more academic manner can be found in this posting. The spirit of this transcription is to try to capture a little of what the piece sounds like. I've filled in the blanks, so to speak, in honor of a wonderful performance I heard from the BSO, lead by David Robertson. Those who are interested in every word in the score, complete with punctuation and every last "Keep going!" should consult the other transcription. That one is complete with everything you can't hear, no matter how many times you listen or how many different recordings you own.]

A couple of days ago, someone came to my Carnival of Music post searching for words from the third movement of Berio's Sinfonia. I sympathized with this person; I had searched very hard in vain for its text, unable to find it on the internet. I got it the only way I could: when I visited my college, I stopped by the music library with my laptop and copied the whole thing out of the score.

As a public service, here is my copy. It should be noted that there are many overlaps and repetitions, not all of which are reflected below. I don't claim this to be definitive; if you have any questions, check the score.

I'll also note that there is one error in the score that I'm silently correcting.

III

IN RUHIG FLIESSENDER BEWEGUNG


This represents at least a thousand words I was not counting on. I may well be glad of them But seeing Daphne and Chloé written in red, counting the seconds while nothing has happened but the obsession with the with the chromatic and the chromatic again

I am in the air, the walls, everything yields, opens, ebbs, flows like the play of waves--

Yes, I feel the moment has come for us to look back, if we can and take our bearings if we are to go on. Yes, I feel the moment has come for me to look back. I must not forget this, I have not forgotten it. But I must have said it before, since I say it now. They think I am alive, not in a womb, either... Well, so there is an audience it’s a fantastic public performance -- and the curtain comes down for the ninth time. You never noticed you were waiting. You were waiting alone, that is the show. Keep going.

I shall say my old lessons now, if I can remember it then I shall have lived they think I am alive, not in a womb, either, even that takes time.

it is as if we were rooted, that’s bonds if you like – the earth would have to quake. it isn’t the earth, one doesn’t know what it is-- But you all know that they will bring me to the surface one day or another and there will be a brief dialogue in the dunes-- maybe a kind of competition on the stage, with just eight female dancers and words falling. you don’t know where, where now -- under the sun -- who now? But now I shall say my old lessons if I can remember it. I most not forget this. But I must have said it before, since I say it now.

I am listening. Well, I prefer, that, I must say I prefer that, oh you know, oh you, oh I suppose the audience, well well, so there is an audience, it’s a public show, you buy your seat and you wait, perhaps it’s free, a free show, you take your seat and you wait for it to begin, or perhaps it’s compulsory, a compulsory show...

you wait for the compulsory show to begin, it takes time, you hear a voice, perhaps it is a recitation, that is the show, someone reciting, selected passages, old favourites, or someone improvising, you can barely hear him, that’s the show, you can’t leave, you are afraid to leave, you make the best of it, you try to be reasonable, you came too early, here we’d need latin, it’s only the beginning, it hasn’t begun, he’ll appear any moment, he’ll begin any moment

He is only preluding, clearing his throat, alone in his dressing room, or it’s the stage-manager giving his instructions, his last recommendations before the curtain rises-- that is the show -- that’s the show waiting for the show, to the sound of a murmur, you try to be reasonable, perhaps it is not a voice at all, perhaps it’s the air, ascending, descending, flowing, eddying, seeking exit, finding none, and the spectators, where are they, you didn’t notice, in the anguish of waiting, never noticed you were waiting alone, that is the show, for the fools, in the palace, waiting -- the brightest star -- waiting alone that is the show waiting alone in the restless air, for it to begin, while every now and then a familiar passacaglia ] filters through the other noises waiting, for something to begin, for there to be something else but you, for the power to rise, the courage to leave, picking your way through the crossed colors, seeking the cause, losing it again, seeking no longer. We shall overcome the incessant noised, for as Henri says, if this noise would stop there’d be nothing more to say. You try and be reasonable, perhaps you are blind, probably deaf, the show is over, all is over, but where then is the hand, the helping hand, or merely charitable, or the hired hand, it’s a long time coming, to take yours and draw you away, that is the show, free, gratis, and for nothing, waiting alone, blind, deaf, you don’t know where, you don’t know for what, for a hand to come and draw you away, somewhere else, where perhaps it’s worse. It’s a real pleasure upon my word it is to be unable to drown under such conditions in a lake full of colors far from my walls

I am here so little, I see it, I feel it round me it enfolds me, it covers me, if only this voice would stop, for a second, it would seem long to me, a second of silence I would listen, I’d know if it was going to start again or if it was stilled for ever what would I know it with, I’d know. And I’d keep on listening I’d know if it was going to start again it’s late now, and he is still talking incessantly, any old thing, repetition after repetition, talking unceasingly, in yourself, outside yourself

It’s late now, he shall never hear again the lowing cattle, the rush of the stream. In a chamber, dimensions unknown, I do not move and never shall again on long road or short. But the fact is I trouble no one. But I did. And after each group disintegration, the name of Majakowsky hangs in the clean air.

And when they ask, why all this, it is not easy to find an answer. For when we find ourselves, face to face, now, here, and they remind us all this can’t stop the wars, can’t make the old younger or lower the price of bread -- say it again, louder! -- it can’t stop the wars, can’t make the old younger or lower the price of bread, can’t erase solitude or dull the tread outside the door, we can only nod, yes, it’s true, but no need to remind, to point, for it is all with us, always, except, perhaps at certain moments, here among these rows of balconies, in a crowd or out of it, perhaps waiting to enter, watching. And tomorrow we’ll read that Stravinsky's Firebird made tulips grow in my garden and altered the flow of the ocean currents. We must believe it’s true. There must be something else. Otherwise it would be quite hopeless. But it is quite hopeless. Unquestioning. But it can’t go on. It, say it, not knowing what. It’s getting late. Where now? When now? I have a present for you. Keep going, page after page. Keep going, going on, call that going, call that on. But wait. He is barely moving, now, almost still. Should I make my introductions?

But now it’s done, it’s over, we’ve had our chance. There was even, for a second, hope of resurrection, or almost, Mein junges Leben hat ein End. We must collect our thoughts, for the unexpected is always upon us, in our rooms, in the street, at the door, on a stage. Thank you, Mr. David Robertson

Assessing Tan Dun

After thoroughly enjoying Tan Dun's Water Concerto a few weeks ago, I was a bit surprised by Lloyd Schwartz's review in the Phoenix:

It’s a shallow piece, three percussionists slapping and plunging various objects into deep, clear-plastic, electronically amplified “hemispherical water basins” — plish, plosh, drizzle, drip — with movie-melodrama accompaniment, in a pretentiously darkened hall. The orchestra and NY Phil principal percussionist Christopher Lamb, for whom the piece was commissioned, were expert, but the piece is all wet.

That isn't the first time that Schwartz has written an unenthusiastic review of Tan's works. He also criticized The Map for formal reasons:

The Map amounts to an inflated orchestral accompaniment to 10 excerpts (more like a suite than a concerto) from films of Chinese folk musicians Tan made with video and sound artist Davey Frankel — which are projected by Frankel as part of the performance.

I'm willing to believe that the video elements of The Map works better viewed on DVD than projected in large concert hall. However, I've never found its suite-like structure problematic. Its strength is that it brings in such a variety of folk music and is able to bring them together. These two pieces share a focus on virtuosity. In the case of The Map, it is a showcase for the folk music (rather than the solo cello). The Water Concerto is as much a showpiece for percussionists (and for the composer) as anything Liszt or Paganini wrote for their respective instruments.

But is that enough? Isn't empty virtuosity still empty?

I think these pieces are original enough and interesting enough that they are worthwhile. Tan is in the difficult position of living between worlds, and does a good enough job balancing the Western orchestra with his Chinese heritage. While I understand where Schwartz is coming from, I think Tan is able to overcome the formal difficulties.

The First Love

Some things are ubiquitous. I don't think anyone can remember the first time they heard Bach or Beethoven. There music has just always been there.

Other types of music may require introduction. I never listened to opera until I heard Die Walküre. I'd been devouring Strauss's tone poems for six months, at that point. I had read about Wagner's influence, so I decided to see for myself. There was no looking back. Die Walküre was my first love of opera. The first love is that piece that opens a new world for you; it ends up not just standing alone, but standing for a whole genre.

Before Berg's Violin Concerto, I never listened to 12-tone music. I found Mozart boring until I heard K491. I didn't listen to lieder before Dichterliebe.

And that huge gap between chant and Palestrina? My first love of medieval polyphony was the rondeau "Rose, liz, printemps, verdure," by Guillaume de Machaut, featured in the Norton Anthology of Music. Before long, the rest of the pieces of late Medieval and early Renaissance music fell into place.

This was on my mind as I listened to the finale of Reece Dano's piece C#DG#BEC#G#F#D#ECD# (Pierre Boulez is Dead) on cacaphonous. It is, in effect, a transcription of the Rondeau for string quartet. I don't mind transcriptions and arrangments. (One of these days, I'm going to take a look at four very different Bach orchestrations from the 20th century.) However, taking a transcription of a Medieval rondeau and calling it Pierre Boulez is dead just made me angry. I'd like to give the piece the benefit of the doubt, as I haven't heard the first three movements (described an the ensemble's web page), but it's hard to get excited about this finale.

Et Resurrexit!

But now it’s done, it’s over, we’ve had our chance. There was even, for a second, hope of resurrection, or almost, Mein junges Leben hat ein End. We must collect our thoughts, for the unexpected is always upon us, in our rooms, in the street, at the door, on a stage. Thank you, Mr. TexasBestGrok.
-Luciano Berio, Sinfonia

Welcome one and all to the Carnival of Music, back from a bit of a year-end vacation.

This is the first carnival since December 19th. Quite a bit has happened since then.

For starters, the year ended. And a new one began. Which means that everybody had to write lists. So, here's a quick list of lists: Alex Ross, Ionarts, Sequenza21 , Night After Night.


Sad news on Christmas: legendary soprano Birgit Nilsson passed away. Here's a nice obit on NPR, an audio-tribute at La Cieca, a tribute by Jane Eaglen, snippets of a 1966 New Yorker profile posted at Hella Frisch, an appreciation of her recordings at Ionarts, and a remembrance by Astrid Varnay at Wagner Operas.


Moving from Wagner to pseudo-Wagnerian news, a movie based on the Tristan legend opened this past week. I think Jerry Bowles said it best in his one-line review: "Oed' und leer das meer." The Wellsungens did an interesting riff on it, and I had a series of questions I hope will be answered.


2006 has been dubbed the Mozart Year (everywhere except Symphony Hall). What better way to celebrate than playing with his remains?


The Grammy Nominations came out, and did include some classical CD's, despite the Academy's best attempts to hide that fact. Naxos was nominated once or twice. The amazing last-ever studio opera recording wasn't. (Big surprise there.)


I hope you've found my classical-centric links interesting. One of the nice things about this Carnival is that each week, it is a reflection of its host. Accordingly, it's very different every week. I encourage you to consider hosting it, so that it's short vacation this past month was just that -- a vacation. Long live the Carnival!


UPDATE:

Er, requiescant in pacem

Water Music Version 2

Tonight, I finally made it to Symphony Hall for the first time this season, to hearTan Dun's Water Concerto (lead by Kurt Masur, with Christopher Lamb as the soloist). The piece was written in response to TakemitsuToru's death, and takes up one of his favorite subjects: water. Tan takes it one step farther, however, and promotes water from subject matter to featured soloist. The percussionist is given the following battery play with:

hemispherical water basins, a small bottle, a pair of water cup drums, water gong, four water drums (wooden bowls of different sizes floating upside down in basins of water), slinkyphone, long water tube with foam paddle, water shaker, four Agogo bells, sieve, vibraphone (prepared with coins taped to the bars), and waterphone, plus a double bass bow

In addition to some creative and specialty instruments (such as attaching a slinky to a sounding board, or using water escaping from a seive as percussion), Lamb was asked to take gongs and Agogo bells and dip them into water. This changes their pitch and resonance, making a deeper sound that oscillates. It also adds a visual element: you can't see vibrating air, but the water makes the disturbance visible.

The piece is a great example of Tan's theatricality. For example, the beginning intimates ritual. It opens in total darkness. One percussionist on either side of the orchestra begins playing a waterphone, as a third enters from the back of the hall. Slowly, pillars of light reveal clear ciruclar basins of water.

There's much more to it than lighting effects, though. The various improvised water instruments are quite entertaining to watch. I had the good fortune of being right on top of the action -- second balcony, first row, right over the stage. I think the most interesting instrument to watch were the water drums, consisting of wooden bowls overturned in the water. The result is a nice, mellow pitch that can be manipulated by lifting or lowering the bowl with one hand while striking it with the other. It provides a unique challenge: unlike other percussion instruments, the bowls move as they float around the basin. (Tympanists never need to worry about that problem.)

Lamb manipulated all the objects so well, and Tan wrote such an engaging score that I was disappointed the piece ended so quickly. It's a shame he didn't write a set of encores for various water percussion instruments.

The comic highlight of the night came from the oboist that saw it fit to accompany the emptying of the basins with the famous theme from Handel's Water Music.

Unfortunately, there aren't any commercial releases yet. However, it is part of volume 6 of the Kurt Masur box set released by the NY Philharmonic, with Lamb as the soloist.

The Water Concerto shared the program with Bruckner's 7th.

Gift-giving Dilemma

My grandmother's birthday is on Boxing Day. My family gave me a mandate for her birthday present: find $50 worth of Mahler CD's. My initial reaction was to get her 1, 2, 5, and 9. 2 is my favorite at the moment, 9 is so profound, and 1 and 5 are so famous, how could I go wrong with those? Looking through the 9's, I came across this recording, paired with two pieces by Pierre Boulez. I think Notations is a real knock-out piece (I found the old Erato recording at For the Record used some years back), but can I really get it for my grandmother?

Yes, I'm an unashamed evangelist of great music. I would love it if everyone would give Boulez the chance his music deserves (and think that a lot more people would find they actually like it if they just listened to it with their ears open).

But can I really get some Boulez for my grandmother? I'm already getting her Mahler, so she does listen outside of the tightly confined 1700-1900 WCRB box. Am I such a partisan that I will get my grandmother Notations for her 85th birthday?

The answer is no. I ended up picking out some nice recordings conducted by Bernstein, because she probably fell in love with his recordings forty years ago. I guess there are some lines even I won't cross.

Poieticism and Gnarlyism

Over at Sequenza 21, they're having very interesting debates on the poietic fallacy fallacy and gnarlyism.

The basic idea is that no composers write music thinking that won't touch their audience. This raises all sorts of questions, many of which have to do with so-called "gnarly" composers, i.e., the high modernists.

It made me think of a juicy quotation from a composer who actually didn't write music to touch his audience. Why not? Because to him, music wasn't capable of doing so:

I consider that music is, by its very nature, essentially powerless to express anything at all, whether a feeling, an attitude of mind, a psychological mood, a phenomenon of nature, etc.

Which gnarlyist said that? Was that from the grandfather of them all, Schoenberg? Or did the most partisan serialist, Pierre Boulez say that? Babbit? Wournien? Rochberg?

None of them. In fact, it was said by the opposite camp: Igor Stravinsky.

It puts the whole debate in a very different perspective, doesn't it?

The saddest thing is that this same Stravinsky who isn't out to move his audience has somehow remained popular, while the "gnarlyists" are only now making inroads with the public. We always love those who hate us.