There’s a new
episode — the 13th – of my in-progress book on the future of classical
music online. Or my in-progress improvised draft of a book. But whatever I call
it, the response has been wonderfully warm, quite enthusiastic, really, from
all kinds of people who e-mail me. Or who talk to me out in the physical world.
I’ll refrain from quoting any of the reactions, so this blog won’t read like a
movie ad, but I’m warmly grateful. (And now I’m going to be precise, and say
that this is the 13th episode of the second version of the book, since there
was also a first version, which I abandoned after six episodes that I decided
weren’t going in the right direction. It’s fun to write in the glare of public
light, and yes, I really mean that.)
This new episode continues a section of the book that might
be called, “How Classical Music Got That Way.” Which means, “where
did the classical music world as we know it today come from?” And the answer
is, or at least my answer is: It came from three things, from the emergence of
the very concept of classical music early in the 19th century (or in other
words the concept of supreme musical works, written by supreme creators, and
requiring utter devout silence from anyone listening to them); from the
emergence of modernism, early in the 20th century (which helped put new
classical music beyond the reach of ordinary mortals — but note that I’m
style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>not saying that modernist music is in
itself bad); and finally from the emergence of current pop culture, that (with
rock and jazz) created a musical soundtrack for contemporary life that’s really
far from classical music.
The new episode starts the second part of this, the part
about modernism. And what I try to show is that in the1890s, before modernism
appeared, new music wasn’t considered at all remarkable just because it was
new. By that point (because people really believed in the idea of classical
music), far more music by dead composers was played than music by new composers
(exactly the pattern we have now). But the new music was taken in stride,
welcomed, and often loved. We need to get back to that place today.
style='mso-spacerun:yes'>
All the old episodes are still online, by the way. Including even the six episodes of the old version. Just go to the main book site, and you’ll see them listed in a box on the left.
Subscribers to the book got a bonus. They got two revealing anecdotes,
one about the first part of the 19th century, when classical music — highbrow
works by serious composers — was fighting with popular music, otherwise known
as opera and recitals by flashy virtuosos. Mendelssohn was a classical
composer, a high priest of a tradition that, as people saw it then, began with
Haydn, Mozart, and especially Beethoven. Donizetti, a prolific, theatrical opera
composer, was a prime example of popular music. But when Mendelssohn’s friends
attacked Donizetti, Mendelssohn (bless the man) defended him. And not even as a
guilty pleasure — he just loved the music. Now, of course, we think Italian
opera is as classical as Mendelssohn, which is just one way that our classical
music world blurs (to put it mildly) any distinction between the many kinds of
work that “classical” composers have written.
The other anecdote for subscribers was an early taste of
something that’ll be in the next episode of the book — how, in 1913, Saint-Saens
(at that point the dean of established Parisian composers) reacted (with
utterly deadpan derision and disbelief) to Stravinksy’s
Rite of Spring. It’s
a priceless story, which I found in the memoirs of Alfredo Casella (an Italian
neoclassicist), and which I haven’t seen printed anywhere else.
To subscribe to the book — which above all means you’ll get
e-mail notification of all new episodes — just click
href="mailto:greg@artsjournal.com">here
in the subject line of the blank e-mail form that will appear. And I’d be grateful
if you’d tell me a little about yourself. My subscribers (bless them all) are a
varied and delightful group, from several countries. Some are classical music professionals
(some of these high-ranking), some very thoughtful music students, some are
equally thoughtful teachers at universities or music schools, and some are just
plain listeners. I like knowing who they are, and I’ve learned a lot from them.










As an aspiring opera singer, I love your ideas; but please, please check your grammar! “What it ought to look at is…” It should be are. “As if the danger was real.” The “was” should be in the subjuctive tense: were. Good thesis. Is this going to be published in hardback?
I can’t find the first phrase you mention in the current episode. (or anywhere else on my computer), so I can’t weigh your suggestion. Can you help me locate it?
As for the subjunctive, I prefer to write colloquially, so I avoid it. It always sounds a little too fancy for me. I think this would be considered a mistake only from a rather high church point of view, where writing is concerned.
And of course I’m glad you like my ideas. The book at some point will appear in print, but that hasn’t been a priority of mine — yet.
Good luck with your singing!