Showing posts with label kozinn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kozinn. Show all posts

Friday, July 25, 2008

On Stylized Naturalism: Chamber Music of Elliott Carter

 Elliott Carter, Oliver Knussen, and TMC Orchestra, 24-JUL-2008, Tanglewood
F  inally, I began to understand what he [Carter] was doing. Then I said, ‘Well, it’s really not all that interesting: the same gestures over and over again.’ ”
  —  Robert Baska, comment on Allan Kozinn’s NY Times ArtsBeat blog post, 24-JUL-2008.
A  nd, to each his/her own. Is it true, then, that maybe you are not interested in patterns in nature: flocks of birds in flight; ripples on water; fresh breezes on your face? Those are the same gestures over and over again. Are those not interesting and beautiful? Do you turn away from those? No. Well, to me, Carter’s stylized naturalism—referred to by Oliver Knussen on Monday—is neither more nor less interesting than Nature itself. There is no law that says all music has to have a dramatic human-centric plot, no law that says all chamber music has to have explicit dialogue between the parts, no law that says you have to work yourself up to a big rhetorical finale.”
  —  DSM, 24-JUL-2008.
The BSO’s Festival of Contemporary Music at Tanglewood (Elliott Carter Centenary) on Thursday had a wonderful performance of several of Carter’s smaller instrumental pieces by Tanglewood Music Center Fellows, plus special guests Charles Rosen and Fred Sherry.

  • Saeta (1949) and Canaries (1949) [Steven Merrill (timpani)]
  • Four Lauds for Violin (1984-2001) [Martin Schultz: Remembering Aaron, and Remembering Roger; Stephanie Nussbaum: Riconoscenza per Goffredo Petrassi, and Rhapsodic Musings for Robert Mann]
  • Figment IV (2007) [Gareth Zehngut (viola)]
  • Figment III (2007) [Kevin Jablonski (double-bass)]
  • Steep Steps (2001) [Brent Besner (bass clarinet)]
  • Canto (1966) and March (1949) [Kyle Zerna (timpani)]
  • Elegy (1943) [Fred Sherry (cello), Charles Rosen (piano)]
  • 90+ (1994) [Charles Rosen (piano)]


    [30-sec clip, Charles Rosen, Elliott Carter, ‘90+ for Piano’, 1MB MP3]

Before the performance, we were treated to a captivating discussion, with former Boston Globe music critic Richard Dyer interviewing Elliott Carter. Elliott extemporizes his responses in a vivid, easy-going way—a way that enables us to see the genuineness of the man and his thinking. No mere reminiscences, his comments were up-to-the-minute ‘pearls’ reflecting his current assessment of how things are and why they are that way.

On matters where he feels he has no answer or where he thinks his views might be biased, he says so, simply and matter-of-factly. When one is 100, there is a premium on integrity.

But on most topics, Carter is expansive, each point leading to others in rapid succession. Those lucky enough to attend the Tanglewood Festival of Contemporary Music have much to be thankful for. Bravo!

I  have not thought about periods in my development as a composer. I do not think I have been striving to be more ‘transparent’, for example, in my recent compositions. In fact, I may return to my so-called ‘Second Period’ shortly. [Laughs.] Frankly, I have always simply written things that interest me … I am always just trying new things.”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
T  he role of ‘intuition’ in the compositional process? Oh! That is a question! It’s a question I’d like to transpose into something else: What is the role of intuition in conversation, as you and I are talking to each other? Things come out automatically, without our having to think too much. … I get an idea that seems to be an interesting one, and I go from there.”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
I  ntuition, yes. Composing, for me, is something like writing a letter. First you have a word, then it becomes a sentence. Pretty soon it’s a paragraph, and, eventually, what you have in front of you is what you would call a letter. Things just germinate. Composing is a process not unlike what each of us does every day—it’s like what we are living all the time.”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
T  o answer your question [of where does the idea of putting a contrabassoon against the cello part come from] ... the very different timbres and registers—I’d say I’ve always been impressed with sounds. Sounds. I remember being very impressed by gardens in Japan, the sounds of water dropping and striking pieces of bamboo: very touching, very beautiful, like a soft pizzicato. And, you know, to make the cello part sound very high, you just need some low notes. Contrabassoon!”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
M  ore than water dropping or leaves flickering—your allusion to the shimmering rubato of Liszt—I am instead trying to communicate something deeper than that [in my compositions]. It isn’t a literal naturalism exactly … but I can’t really explain it adequately. For the ‘Symphonia’, which you will hear performed tonight, I just thought about sad things and then I wrote it, that’s all. It is a vision—the sadness of Life, the joy of Life, and, in the end, a ‘balloon’: the piccolo going up. Not a big rhetorical ending. That would’ve been awful. ”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
T  he musical ideas are not the problem. So many! Even now, I am trying to keep my mind off of them! [Laughs.]”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
I  t’s not just I, I suppose, who should express gratitude for this extraordinary Festival. If the pieces of music spoke English instead of notes, they would say, ‘Thank you’. Their gratitude this week is immense.”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.

 Steven Nagy, Nikon SmallWorld 2007 Microscopy Photography Competition, 10th-place winner
 Convection regime of intersecting flows, semi-stable line on pool surface
 Convection regime of intersecting flows. Robert Baska would not think this flow-line is interesting or beautiful. But it reminds me of the processes in Carter's String Quartet No. 2
 Convection regime of intersecting flows, art in nature, nature in art
 Convection regime of intersecting flows, something in nature that interests me
 Convection regime of intersecting flows makes me think of the structure of Elliot Carter's music


Saturday, January 19, 2008

The Rest is Not ‘Noise’: Can Concerts with Performers’ Explications between Works Be ‘Mashups’?

Georges Braque, Violin & Candle Mashup, 1910
W o Menschen singen lass dich ruhig nieder.
 Denn böse Menschen signen keine Lieder.
[Where people are singing, rest easy.
 Because bad people sing no songs.]”
  —  German proverb/rhyme.
The ‘unity’ of a concert experience—its musical components and its narrative components—occasioned a remark by Allan Kozinn in the New York Times last week, in his review of a Lark Chamber Artists concert. The concert was comprised of a diverse array of [excerpts of] works, ranging from Brahms’s Quintet Op. 111, Jennifer Higdon’s ‘Soliloquy’, John Adams’s ‘Book of Alleged Dances’, and Giovanni Sollima’s ‘Waves’. Allan wrote, “That’s right, just the Allegro [movement of the Brahms Quintet]. Several works were represented by excerpted movements. Generally, this is a bad idea, unless you can argue that individual movements from diverse works add up to a kind of classical mashup. But that’s an assertion you can’t make if, as in this case, each work is given a spoken introduction.”

[In popular multimedia/web-software vernacular, a ‘mashup’ is a ‘composite’ mix of elements created and edited from more than one source, so as to appear as one thing.]

Why would Allan say those things? What authority ever defined once and forever what mashups are or could be? (If anything, the term ‘mashup’ deeply resists any crisp or immutable definition because the inherently ‘populist’ nature of the mashup idiom defies elites and top-down authority, top-down ‘definitions’.)

And, anyhow, presenters’ ‘spoken introduction’ elements are regularly written or extemporized with great poetical and editorial care. Presenters’ remarks are ‘composed’ as programming elements in their own right, to complement and inform the music. Presenters should not be backhandedly demeaned as mere shills/impresarios/educators making ‘noise’, as Kozinn’s comment appears to do!

What’s more, a presenter’s remarks need not be didactic, in the way that Kozinn’s comment implicitly presumes. The presenter may say things that are instead ironical or provocative or enigmatic—for the express purpose of adding drama or stimulation or poignancy to the concert experience.

Or the presenter (or the author of Program Notes, or others) may construct the narrative so as to manifest certain ‘illocutionary’ expressive acts, ones that complement the meanings and modulate the meanings of the musical elements in the conglomerated ‘mashup’. ‘Illocutionary’ is a fancy word that means indirect effects that go beyond the literal text. But it also means that the indirect effects or implications may be multi-layered or different from the superficial or literal sense of the expressions. In English, for example, the interrogative mood is supposed to indicate that the utterance is intended as a question; the directive mood indicates that the utterance is intended as a ‘directive’ illocutionary act (an order, a request, etc.); the words ‘I promise’ are supposed to indicate that the utterance is intended as a commitment.

R ecall that, after Schubert’s death, his brother cut some of Schubert’s scores into small pieces and gave each piece, consisting of a few bars, to Schubert’s favorite pupils. And this act, as a sign of deep piety, is just as understandable as the different act of keeping the scores untouched, accessible to no-one. And if Schubert’s brother had burned the scores, that, too, would have been understandable as a different act of piety.”
  —  Ludwig Wittgenstein.
Possible illocutionary gestures in English include word-order, stress, intonation contour, punctuation, the mood of the verb, and ‘performative’ verbs. And if I say ‘I promise’ in with an upward pitch inflection at the end (as though asking a question about promising) or with a sarcastic tone, then my expression may not be a commitment at all; it may be a repudiation of any commitment. ‘Illocutionary act’ is a technical term introduced in 1962 by John L. Austin in philosophy-of-mind and linguistics investigations concerning what he called ‘performative’ and ‘constative utterances’. [Of course, ‘utterances’ can be music or text or imagery, not just speech.]

According to Austin’s ‘How to Do Things With Words’, an illocutionary act is an act (1) for the performance of which I make it clear to some other person that the act is or has been or soon will be or should be performed, and (2) the performance of which involves ‘consequences’ like rights, commitments, interpretations, or obligations. For example, in order to successfully ‘perform’ a promise I must make clear to my audience that the promise occurs, and then undertake the obligation to do the promised thing (or induce somebody else to do it). It’s a compound expression. It’s a type of mashup.

Austin introduced the concept of ‘illocutionary [speech] act’ by means of a contrast with other kinds of acts: the illocutionary act, he said, is an act performed in the course of saying something else, as contrasted with a ‘locutionary act’ (the act of saying some literal thing), and also contrasted with a ‘perlocutionary act’ (an act performed by saying something).

Kozinn’s glib ‘mashup’ comment, though, inadvertently relegates presenters’ narratives and the Program Notes authors’ texts to the dust bin—as something to be ignored, not part of the concert experience-proper—if we follow the logic of his remark to its conclusion.

Backhandedly, Allan’s attitude and comment also exalt a kind of traditional and deliberate ‘monumentality’ in classical music programming—a sort of ‘unitary executive’ politics, somewhat like Bruckner’s politics. “There is a pecking-order, and I shall tell you what that pecking-order is, and you shall passively receive it and like it and abide by it.” It is a composer pecking-order and a tradition-bound, conventionality-obsessed pecking-order.

I’m sure that Allan means well, but his comment also seems broadly defamatory and hostile to the whole idea of “individual movements from diverse works, adding up to a kind of classical mashup”—as if the only legitimate way, the only aesthetically and morally acceptable way, to perform a composer’s work is in its entirety. You must perform all of its movements, with all of the movements in the original sequence, and with no apocryphal or extraneous material appended or inserted or layered on top of it, palimpsest-style. Well, damn. I guess all of us electroacoustic folks should go shrivel up and die then. I guess all of us who like to hear chamber music excerpts played in bars should roll over and die.

No. I won’t curl up and die. I like my eclectic tastes, and I bet you do, too. I like to create peculiar playlists on my iPod—sequences that no sane presenter or chamber music ensemble would ever put on a program together. I like the quirkiness of my Last.fm dynamic impromptu mashups. I like to explore different combinations and emotional paths that were never envisioned by the composers whose pieces I put back-to-back. I like to attend concerts by expansive-minded artists and presenters who push the envelope, chart new waters.

Don’t get me wrong: the composer’s intentions do have moral standing and should receive due respect; misusing/abusing a work is never a good idea. But I do favor a ‘multiple drafts’ model of musical interpretation and meaning production, like Steven Jan advocates in his book, ‘Memetics of Music’. The individual (performer; audience member; composer; presenter) is regarded as the sum of her/his genotype and its phenotypic effects, together with her/his ‘memotypes’ and their ‘phemotypic’ effects. Each individual is endowed with inalienable musicality, albeit of different types and in different amounts. Each of us brings to our musical experiences her/his genetic and memetic heritage, conditioning, and intentions. Instead of the composer’s musicality and genetic and musical memetic ‘fitness’ always trumping all the rest of us, the ‘multiple drafts’ model contends that musical performances inevitably shape themselves—through interactions with the intentionality and musicality that each of the rest of us possesses. Mashups empower the rest of us, not just the composers, presenters, and code-heads.

P opfly is a mashup tool for end-users, not for code-heads.”
  —  Steve Ballmer, Microsoft.
The idea of the composers and artists and audience members as vessels or interconnected conduits for the flow and production of individualized meaning is a centuries-old theme in music history. Indeed, Mozart’s rants against the Archbishop of Salzburg’s provincialism include implications that composers are memetic ‘vessels’, whose expressive authority and merit depend not only on talent but on what memes fill the vessels.

A fellow of mediocre talent will remain a mediocrity, whether he travels or not; but one of superior talent, which without impiety I cannot deny that I possess, will go to seed if he always remains in the same province.”
  —  E. Anderson, tr. Letters of Mozart and his Family. 3e. Macmillan, 1985. P. 612, letter 331.
We have web mashups and music mashups. The former combine data from more than one source into a single integrated app. An example is cartographic data from Google Maps plus concert data from IONARTS blog, thereby creating a new web service that was not originally provided by either source.

Mashups generally combine content-elements from multiple sources and hide the disparate sourcing behind a unified user interface that obscures the bricolage. ‘Mashups’ and ‘portals’ are both content-aggregation technologies. Portals are older technology designed as an extension to traditional dynamic web applications, in which the process of converting data content into marked-up web pages is split into two phases: generation of markup ‘fragments’. and software-based automatic composition of the fragments into ‘pages’ to be served up to the client app. Each of these markup fragments is generated by a ‘portlet’, and the portal app synthesizes them into a single web page. Portlets may be hosted locally on the portal server or remotely on another server.

Portal technology is server-side, presentation-tier aggregation. It can’t be used to drive higher-level app integration or handle illocutionary interactive user gestures, two-phase transaction commits and roll-backs, or messaging-based redirection of the app-based conversation or search. Portal technology is heavy-handed composer/presenter-dominated politics.

Mashups are Web 2.0 composer/presenter/performer/audience politics. Maybe understanding and accepting and programming mashups is a ‘generational’ thing, an ‘age’ thing, a ‘class’ thing. I hope not. Mashups differ from portals in the following respects:






PortalMashup
ClassificationOlder technology, extension to web services model; data models coerce semanticsNewer Web 2.0 distributed agent/broker/swarm technology; RDF/OWL data models do not impose top-down ontology and semantics
Compositional Method and FormApproaches aggregation by splitting role of web services into two phases (markup generation and aggregation of markup fragments), privileging the role of programmer/composerAdopts an egalitarian approach to content aggregation without regard to markup or authorship
Content DependenciesAggregates presentation-oriented markup fragments (HTML, WML, XML, etc.)Can operate on pure XML content and also on presentation-oriented content (e.g., MusicXML)
Location DependenciesContent aggregation takes place on the serverContent aggregation can take place either on the server or on the client
Aggregation Style‘Salad Bar’ style (aggregated content is presented ‘side-by-side’ without overlaps)‘Melting Pot’ style (individual content may be combined in arbitrary ways, resulting in flexible hybrid content)
Event Model‘Read’ and ‘update’ event models are defined through a specific portlet APICRUD operations are based on REST architectural principles, but no formal API exists
Relevant StandardsPortlet behavior is governed by standards JSR 168, JSR 286 and WSRP, although portal page layout and portal functionality are undefined and vendor-specificBase standard is XML Data Interchange. RSS and Atom are commonly used. More specific mashup standards are expected to emerge.


Incidentally, MusicXML does not yet have an explicit ‘mashup’ ontology and syntax and semantics spec. (Maybe it needs one, preferably as an RDF/OWL ontology, not just low-level XML!) MusicXML 2.0 does have an implicit way to compose a mashup. Currently, MusicXML™ has standard specs to represent—Partwise DTD, where the partwise.dtd file represents a score by part/instrument/voice, and Timewise DTD where timewise.dtd represents a score by time/measure. The partwise.dtd contains measures within each part, while timewise.dtd contains parts within each measure. XSLT stylesheets are provided to couple the two DTDs.

The partwise and timewise score DTDs represent a single movement of music or track. Multiple movements or other musical collections are presented using an Opus DTD opus.dtd file. An opus.dtd MusicXML file contains XLinks to the individual scores, and, by default, they are serial. But there is nothing currently in the MusicXML spec that forbids Timewise DTD from coupling two or more scores, instead of two or more parts. Or, alternatively, you could just instantiate two or more scores in a merged partwise.dtd to create a synthetic mashup with the excerpts and sequences and synchronization you want.

This post has been a very long-winded way of saying, Sing! Play! Devise exotic musical mashups, in whatever ways suit you! Rest easy! People are doing music! (Even us people who use MusicXML for more than just writing and publishing music with Finale™ and Sibelius™ and LilyPond™ software.)

Remember, as they say in Germany, bad people sing no songs. Bad people just don’t make chamber music mashups.

Ken Ueno v. Aaron Jay Kernis composer Flickr Fight Web 2.0 Mashup
L  ast night we were finishing off a jam cake and a cheesecake that were in the fridge so my wife and I both had slim slices. I ate my jam cake first, then my cheesecake. My wife ate them alternating bites of one with bites of the other. I guess her approach stopped short of stacking them and mashing them irrevocably together with her fork. She commented on our different methods. And I said, ‘But I like cheesecake, and I like jam cake. And eating them the way you do, I don’t think I get either.’ But there is a flaw in this analogy. In jam cake or cheesecake, a single bite gives us the entire essence of the cake (you’ve got to get some icing on the fork too, though, with the former, and crust for the latter), whereas I’d have to spend time with Bach or Led Zeppelin—to the extent of a movement, in the case of a suite or concerto (arguably) or the whole of the Goldbergs; and, on the other hand, through the entirety of ‘The Rain Song,’ unless one is of the feeling that an entire album constitutes the artwork (which, in Led Zeppelin’s case is not so much the case). So it would depend, in the case of the cakes, on being able mentally to separate the two, and on how quickly one can make that happen. Perhaps my wife can make the shift completely much more quickly than I, and enjoy, savor, each essence completely with a each single bite; perhaps my capacity is such that I need the saturation of a greater amount of cake, given the imminent distraction of the next cake on my plate, or the previous one. Maybe I could be satisfied with the first four bars, or just the theme, of Goldberg, with memory providing the whole of the essence, before moving on to just the guitar solo of the live version of ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ Or maybe you could, but I couldn’t... I’d be sorry to hear just one movement of Brahms in concert, but what if one doesn't know any better? What if one hasn’t trained oneself ... to expect the other movements and not feel the presentation is complete without them? Nineteenth-century listeners would’ve been much less concerned about it, and twenty-first-century listeners who aren’t primarily immersed in this so-called concert music tradition aren’t concerned about it, given the fact that their iPod shuffles through their Minor Threat, Death Cab for Cutie, and Haydn playlists without value/stylistic judgment. [Even though I don’t feel like changing my way of listening], I can acknowledge that mine isn’t the only way to listen.”
  —  Robert Kirzinger, email, 19-JAN-2008.



Saturday, November 18, 2006

The Good Critic: Ecce Cor Meum

Jon Lovitz – The Critic
“Beating dead horses with enthusiasm.”
  — Charles Rosen
“I love criticism—just so long as it’s unqualified praise.”
  — Noel Coward
“The highest reward for a person’s toil is not what they get for it, but what they become by it.”
  — John Ruskin
“Criticism is very important but only if it leads to improvement. A mere refutation is no victory. If mere criticism had authority, Berkeley would have stopped the development of mathematics and Dirac could not have found an editor for his papers.”
  — Imre Lakatos, Proofs and Refutations
“A professor must have a theory, as a dog must have his fleas.”
  — H.L. Menken, Prejudices: First Series - ‘Criticism of Criticism of Criticism’
“I believe that the public likes criticism only in so far as it is a good show, which means only in so far as it is bellicose. The crowd is always with the prosecution ... My own crowd is very small and probably somewhat superior, but it likes rough-house just as much as a crown around a bulletin-board. ... I am often wrong. My prejudices are innumerable, and often idiotic. My aim is not to determine facts, but to function freely and pleasantly - as Nietzsche used to say, to dance with arms and legs.”
  — H.L. Menken, Letters of Mencken, ed. Forgue, p.186
“Having the critics praise you is like having the hangman say you’ve got a pretty neck.”
  — Eli Wallach


CMT: I’m still reflecting on what Jonathan Biss was  saying  about critics last week. What do any of these [print-media or online— ] commentaries do for the cause of classical music? In and of themselves, not a thing. They may divert a few casual readers, but they don’t directly serve the mission of bringing listeners to the art form. They don’t directly invigorate the classical music community or make the dialogue any more vibrant or better financed.

DSM: Well, not directly maybe. But indirectly? The promotion of a virtual community—a larger, more diverse community than could get together physically—is what the web does. It’s what commentators and critics throughout history have done.

CMT: But music critics ought not to be shameless promoters, praisemongers. Not everything critics write or say should be supportive or commending. One purpose of criticism is to advance the creativity of the genre, to add to people’s appreciation of the form, to add to the value and aesthetic quality of the canon and the productions. You want to stimulate demand for forms that would otherwise be in scarce supply, and by creating demand induce more supply. You can’t do that effectively if your credibility is low—if you’re uniformly biased in one direction; if you’re clearly in the back pocket of one stakeholder. More than that, it’d be unethical to represent yourself as a critic and not in fact deliver honest criticism. You want a vibrant and efficient classical music market? You need more producers and consumers! You need liquidity, more buyers and sellers, more market depth. As it is right now, classical music is a pretty thinly traded stock compared to other cultural securities.

“Mozart’s later, more refined style benefits from a measure of unbridled energy. But Ms. Mutter seemed to hold this conviction less firmly than Mr. Orkis. At times she lapsed into the smooth, streamlined, vibrato-rich sound that violinists find seductive in any context but that in this case undercut the music’s vigor and made it sound merely pretty. Pretty Mozart can be awfully inviting, and there are probably times when that’s enough. But it’s a pity when a performer retreats toward a superficial sheen just moments after touching on a more textured, nuanced and electrifying aspect of a work. Looking on the bright side, if the moments of intensely concentrated energy hadn’t been so good, the others wouldn’t have seemed so dull.”
  — Allan Kozinn, NYT, 17-NOV-2006



DSM: What about meta-criticism? Can we denounce some critics’ abuse of deconstructive techniques to justify their own idiosyncratic fragmentations—their savage distortions of non-canonical works in order to serve a supposedly radical political vision. It’s “jingoism” – self-conscious, precious, extremist views, nothing more.

CMT: Well, sure—righteous metacriticism has its place, especially if provoked. But it basically addresses a small group of specialist acolytes. That’s not going to do any good in the long run, no matter how cathartic it feels. Musical criticism should be geared to the interested lay person. It should aim to be both informative and accessible. Criticism should not only evaluate; it should also explain and educate. And, as William Marvin notes in his Foreward to Deborah Stein’s wonderful book, you can’t explain or educate unless you've first “made the music your own”. So there’s an absolute need to approach each work actively, as a performer or composer, not as merely a listener. Marvin also emphasizes that drafting critical commentary is an exploratory gesture—one that’s at least as likely to lead to “dead-ends” as “Ah-hah!” moments. Mastering a piece—to the point where you can offer a constructive comment on it—requires hours of immersion in the score, in the recordings, in other people’s writings about it, in various artists’ performances of it, and so on. It’s the duty of responsible journalism, of responsible narrative of any sort—not just arts criticism.

DSM: If a critic has added to our appreciation of a work, then that person has been useful to me—to us, to humankind. Or, as Paul McCartney recently said in an interview on NPR in the U.S. ( Sir Paul: Ecce Cor Meum ), what matters is that you give people your honest views; give them a piece of your heart. If you’re not real, then what’s the point!

CMT: So that’s it: utilitarianism trumps everything else. You’re going to hang musicology and arts criticism on a utiliarian’s brand of relativism: you discover that some bit of criticism is useful to you and that makes it okay, and you find some other bit of criticism completely useless to you—particularly if it only summarizes the themes, focuses on an issue you’re not interested in, concentrates too much on other critics or theories and not on the work itself, or uses a technical vocabulary that displeases you—and that makes it bad. Your perfectionism is deadly! Save the baby in that bathwater! The main goal of criticism, I think, should be to communicate—without any prejudice as to the content of the communication, other than that it should be civil and constructive.

DSM: At least Grant is a composer. And Rosen is a pianist. They can be hilarious, bombastic, irreverent, serious—all of these things. And their artistic credentials underlie their work as critics—their idiosyncrasies come with an unimpeachable pedigree. Does it make any sense for someone who isn’t trained and accomplished in some aspect of performance or composition and not still active in that discipline to be a critic?

CMT: I think it’s possible for anybody—anybody who is thoughtful and of good will—to do a decent job as a critic. But you have to inhale—you have to inhale the piece as William Marvin was saying—or you will fail to understand the piece sufficiently to deliver an account of it. Good criticism is a performing art in its own right!

DSM: But is it necessary to ‘thematize’ the objectives of any criticism or analytical discourse? I notice that every time we’re together we focus on one or a few topics. Is the topicality of criticism inevitable?

CMT: There’s a duty that the critic has to his/her readers—at least in Western tradition—to create a comprehensible commentary. And I suppose that that does entail essay-like conceptual framework, and rational rhetorical devices to carry the ideas forward—it would make no sense to create narrative without a recognizable thesis or theme. It’s not like the theme has to be explicitly stated or announced, but it should be coherent and readily apprehended, don’t you think? I wouldn’t have any patience with absurdist non sequiturs or chaos on the page, would you?

DSM: No. But the pendulum is rather at the other end, isn’t it! One of the interesting trends in musicology is the extent to which technical musicology has invaded criticism and journalism. Since the 1950’s, music criticism has contracted and contracted until it is un-radical—almost a journalism of developments in music composition and performance. As the specific gravity, not to mention the attractiveness, of new works diminished, music criticism found itself increasingly focused on performance. This trend is coupled to the parallel trend of predominantly traditional performances, traditional interpretations of traditional familiar works, and performers who more and more resemble each other. Music criticism began somewhere in the 1970s to appear an exercise in making unsurprising distinctions between commodified products.

CMT: Or an exercise in nostalgia, in which current performances are held up against past recordings and found wanting. Foregone conclusions! It makes you really crave unusual works and unusual interpretations, doesn’t it!

DSM: As David Neumeyer once said ( MusicTheoryOnline, FEB-1993. ), “It is no secret that [critics’] language or methods are not designed to facilitate judgments of value, but only to support them after they have been made. Perhaps the most far-reaching implication is that the link between the tools of technical musical criticism and the ideology of masterwork culture is not at all secure.” So your perspective predetermines what you can see and how you will interpret it? Of course!

CMT: To some extent, the authentic-performance movement, the Historically-informed performance (HIP) movement, by bringing new (though really old) musical product to the public, did provide critics with something new to write about. But because the authentic-performance movement was so closely associated with musicologist academicians rather than with lay writers and lay musical impulses, writing about it in the press has required a lot of musicological training.

DSM: And it demands a reader who has a technical musicological bent. Music critics writing Sunday “think pieces” on baroque ornamentation, or on Czerny’s style of piano-playing, for a small but avid group of readers who already have enough musical training to be able to care about that sort of thing. So HIP hasn’t really achieved too much in terms of growing the audience, growing the market for classical music—or even growing the diversity of musical criticism.

CMT: More important even than that, the trend of converting music journalism into erstwhile cultural studies is rampant—present company included. Write about music by writing about something-else-very-much-not-music! Richard Taruskin is the icon for this—his writing on Prokofiev and Tchaikovsky. He tackles music as if all music were politics, governed by politics. At least you and I only look at politics and culture as a context for—and influence on—composing and performing.

DSM: Thomson’s book on Schoenberg is an example of more radical species of commentary. Thomson questions his reasons for implementing the 12 tone system. There’s a scarcity of Schoenberg criticism that radically re-thinks long-accepted tenets like this, and Thomson has effectively deconstructed the atonal-serialist innovations of Schoenberg, Webern and others. He opines that they’re culturally subversive—establishing new interrelationships between music, mathematics and nihilism. Thomson concurs with what composers like Sibelius, Bartok, and Shostakovich argued—that Western tonality is “the” natural language of music and is a product of entrenched human impulses. In creating works that flout natural imperatives and uphold inhuman precepts, the serialist composers spawned controversy. And controversy drives change. Change is good.

CMT: The book “Music and Ideology” is a response to the question “Must the practice of music analysis and music theory always re-inscribe the ideology of aesthetic autonomy?” And, if not, under what circumstances does it re-inscribe that ideology? The responses to these questions should appeal not only to music and cultural theorists, but also to a larger audience engaged in critical theory.

DSM: Rahn’s book construing music’s data structures (declarative code) to how it imparts its experiential structures through flow-of-control and phrasing (procedural code) is satisfying to those of us who spend part of our time in computer science and software development. Here is a music critic who bothers enough to stretch outside of musicology-proper to care to reach out to us. How can we not be intrigued by his ideas when he uses our own language? It’s a friendly invitation to make a connection. This is what helps to grow audiences—cross-pollinate with external market segments who haven’t traditionally been avid supporters. Get them interested, and communicate with them in ways that honor their native cultures! This leads to the question of moral infrastructures and value systems that are indigenous to the internal and external worlds—the music world (or arts world), and everything else. Rahn demonstrates remarkable insight. Acknowledging Gödel’s theorem, he recognizes that critical discourse can only address thoughts formulated in the internally-referential and non-referential language of the arts themselves. But he leaves the possibility open for linguistic “worm holes” to other disciplines, other languages.

CMT: There’s the social semiotics put forward by Lawrence Kramer and others. And Derek Scott’s writing is a refreshingly engaging style. Roger Kuin’s Chamber Music is playful in tone, imaginative, outgoing, inclusive, generous. The book is also an essay in modern (as contrasted with ‘postmodern’) criticism—the content of Kuin’s argument modifies his presentation.

DSM: I particularly like Charles Rosen’s writing as a critic. Rosen—such a superb pianist—tackles Beethoven and atonal music with equal enthusiasm and sensitivity. He’s sanguine about beating on his adversaries, yet he does so in such a kindly way that it preserves the channel of communication. They may not like what he says, but they can hardly but respect his logic and his civility.

CMT: I especially admire Rosen’s “The Irrelevance of Serious Music,” in which he observes that “the death of classical music is perhaps its oldest continuing tradition,” before reassuring us that “the music that survives is the music that musicians want to play”

DSM: Isn’t he also the one who wrote that classical music’s problems are of “resentment for an art that one does not understand—or rather, for an art that one is unwilling to understand”?

CMT: Yes. Rosen can be really funny, in the humor of his remarks on the New Grove and Harvard dictionaries of music. And he is poignant in his memoir of Oliver Strunk, and his distrust of dogmatic theory. Rosen’s account of Richard Taruskin, who he says “beats his dead horses with infectious enthusiasm” is hilarious.

Critical Enthusiasm
DSM: Text & Act is a collection of Taruskin’s most bellicose essays on historically-informed performance of 18th- and 19th-century music. Taruskin is of course an accomplished Baroque cellist—he comes by his ascerbic opinions honestly. And, although he writes in a stuffy way, he’s really a fierce opponent of the pretentiousness that HIP can be plagued by or marketed with.

CMT: Yes, well, Taruskin is pretty full of himself. He routinely insults people. He makes wild statements at the outset of an essay and then retracts later. He quotes a statement by another writer or musician, takes it out of context and turns it into something that was never meant, and then mocks the speaker in absentia. Prideful hatchet-jobs. And authenticity in the sense of hermeneutics and faithful rendering of the composer’s intentions and realistic conditions of performance is simply not an achievable goal. If the composer is dead, we can know only imperfectly the composer’s real intentions. There are no more 14-year-old boy castrato sopranos to sing Taverne’s masses. It’s like ‘originalists’ and ‘pragmatists’ in constitutional law. Do we want the Constitution to be a living breathing document admitting of evolving, modern interpretations? Or do we want it to be a crusty tool of literalist inflexibility and contemporary coercion?

DSM: What’s important is a performance that moves us, the people performing and listening to the music now. Musicologists and critics should, ideally, be models of how to think independently, and of how to articulate values. If as such models they enable others to learn, then society is the better for it. Little escapes sharp eyes and sharp minds. Whimsy is fine to a point; so is biting criticism to a point, so long as it’s provocative and constructive, not self-indulgent.

CMT: Qureshi’s book is one that gives us an example of criticism in a different voice. Like Eagleton, we get perspectives on how Marxist thought impinges on music discourse. Qureshi explores everything from Marxism to feudal properties of Hindustani classical music, music production and consumption, music exchange economies.

DSM: Another paradigm-shifting writer, Boris Asaf’ev in his books from the Fifties—not widely read outside of Russia—talks about the situation in the field of musical criticism and the concept of Realism: “When I state that the sources and roots of the realistic in music lie in the intonational communication of people, and in the recognition of these socializing elements of music in the compositions of the musical past and present, I am trying to base the problem of musical realism on the unquestionability of the experience of musical communication, on the continuously occurring process if assimilation, evaluation, recognition and non recognition of music of one’s environment.” (Asaf’ev B. Intonation, p. 729.)

CMT: “Cold boot” into a different operating system, different country. That’s the sure way to freshen up music criticism—liven it up. Read everything everybody else writes, take the examples in Stein’s book to heart, then cold boot!


Criticism & Post-Modern Inscription