Why did you program that 1945 Carter Sonata? Why the Ives, Bartók, Hindemith, Weisgall, Sessions, Copland, Shostakovich, Messiaen? The questioners observe that modernist forms and dissonances are unwelcoming, upsetting
or incomprehensible (while being blissfully unaware that many
of the very same musical techniques have become the norm in the underscoring for their favorite television shows and films). Why do I play these pieces? I want to take a
stab at answering this query here in as non-technical a way as possible; those with graduate
degrees in music may wish to close their browsers and look away.
The simple
response: I have always had a strong affinity for classical music of the mid-
to late 20th century, and you need to play what you love, regardless
of perceived accessibility or marketability. This is apparently a rare
enthusiasm, if one takes a relative scarcity of programming, radio airtime and
recording to be indications of popularity. In any case, I know there are true
reasons to be fascinated by this music, and understandable circumstances that
have led to its neglect. Pre-millennium repertoire is a bit like the old state
road that was mostly abandoned when the interstate came through; it takes much longer
to get home, there are bumps and potholes to endure and all the trendy shops
have moved away. Nevertheless, there are well-earned beauties to discover and
relish along this overgrown byway, never to be seen at 80 mph.
If this music is so wonderful, why is it neglected? First and obviously,
it is not Bach, Beethoven or Brahms. Though completely connected and indebted
to the eras of music-we-love-to-hear, the various languages in use by even the
early 1900’s (as in art and literature) necessarily began to reflect and
comment upon the vicissitudes of modern life, the horrors of world war, the
fracturing of centuries-old social orders. There is enduring beauty and
necessary, scalding truth in these new expressions, but the old and powerful
cult of consonance and familiarity, the limiting addiction to music as comfort,
solace and escape has been hard to shake, even to this day. Second, a little
thing called popular music blossomed around the same time, as another facet of
modernism. A natural outgrowth of various folk music traditions, it eventually
made as complete a split as possible with fine art music and never looked back.
As in most folk music, its purpose was a non-complex expression of love or
hardship, and was primarily generated as a means of entertainment and
diversion. Over the last century or so, it has retained a maddeningly simple
approach to content, harmony, rhythm and form, at least in comparison to
contemporary classical music, relying on seemingly endless supplies of artistic
individuality and ingenuity to sustain interest (I don’t include jazz in this
rough assessment; I believe it has had an arc more similar to classical music
in most ways). As an irresistible economic juggernaut, popular music forever
banished art music to the corner of the classroom, where we stalwart few have
been forced to write I must not play challenging music on the chalkboard 100 times. Not surprisingly,
beginning in the 1960’s or so, various “postmodern” styles such as minimalism
began to emerge, with varying degrees of success, in an attempt to fuse the
classical and popular worlds–and as a means of survival. The nourishing importance of thoughtful, organic
development took a back seat on the freeway to the 21st century, and seems more and more lost to the hyper kinetic, information-age audiences of today.
I fear we have left behind a wealth of wonderful music in this
inartistic desire to appeal. It is my mission to celebrate this music, to the
best of my abilities, because I believe it has something important to say to
us, and always has had. So perhaps my true answer to the question is: I play this piece because as an artist I must,
because I need it and I believe you need it, even if you can’t fully understand or appreciate
the message it brings to you at this time.
1 comment:
BRAVO, Martin!! Jiminy, I check in at your blog way too seldom, and every time I do I want to hug you. I find your simile about the highway vs. the byway really eloquent. YES: we play the music we do because it says something to us --and we feel we can say something with it-- that it's important to communicate. And that in no way means we don't also play Bach, Brahms, Chopin, and play it for exactly the same reasons. Cheers to you!
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