I'm reminded of that quotation of Stravinsky about Webern and diamonds; let's see if Google helps . . . Alas, no, but Joseph Machlis does! "Doomed to total failure in a deaf world of ignorance and indifference, he inexorably kept on cutting out his diamonds, his dazzling diamonds, of whose mines he had such a perfect knowledge."
There can be no doubt that classical music has spent the last hundred years in taking itself as far from popular taste as it could.
This seems extreme to me. The nineteen-twenties certainly saw this phenomenon, but the new classicism of the 'thirties and 'forties gives it the lie, no? And there are tons of composers--at least North and South Americans--who found commercial as well as critical success in combining Western tonality with folk motifs. Off the top of my head, Copland, Bernstein, Ginastera, the contemporary (and stunning) Eric Whitacre . . .
I was discussing this with a housemate, and he pointed out that such a blanket statement also depends on a certain definition of "classical" music. Currently, the most popular (in every sense of the word) and lucrative markets for "classical" (that is, tonal, carefully orchestrated music) music are movies and video games. Concerts and albums based on the music from Lord of the Rings and "Final Fantasy" are wildly successful.
If you look hard enough, you can always find an exception to any statement. If your definition is loose enough, then Katharine Jenkins is a classical singer. Heck, Bob Dylan is a classical singer. Let us just assume that words mean something and exclude something else, all right? You seem to have missed the point of the whole essay - that when Sir Paul McCartney tried to move into classical music, something for which he had an instinct (which he was doomed never to fully fulfil), he did so as into something alien and unknown, because a whole generation before his had been alienated from classical music.
But my point was that I found the "whole generation" argument specious. Your argument concerning McCartney's father is certainly valid, but it seems indicative of one man at one historical moment rather than a whole movement. Perhaps this is a US perspective complicating things--are there musical programs in public schools in Britain? (Erm, public meaning grammar, I suppose.) In the US, most children with a yen for music can learn at least the rudiments in school, regardless of parental disapproval.
So the question here is really: was Sir Paul's father typical of his generation, and was his son's upbringing typical of his? I honestly don't know much about McCartney's life, and I have no trouble believing he grew up approaching classical music as an alien subject. But does that mean everyone else did, too?
The last classical musician capable of an enormous popular success died in 1921 (Puccini). End of story. If you don't want to recognize the difference between a Brahms and a Bartok (to go no further), I am not disposed to try to explain what you are so obviously determined not to see.
I could be obtuse and respond that I prefer Bartok to Brahms, but it wouldn't be true. I'm genuinely confused, though--why was Puccini "the last classical musician capable of an enormous popular success"? What makes Puccini different? (Here you'll have to excuse my woeful ignorance of late 19th-century music; I've never studied it formally, and I don't care for the style so never bothered on my own.)
And you haven't answered my question: is Paul McCartney typical of his generation? (I should perhaps also mention that I know virtually nothing of McCartney's life other than what's filtered through the gestalt.)
Do people sing Bartok's tunes in the street? Do they adapt them for political purposes? When Verdi visited a town, he paid all the street organ-grinders to take the day off so he did not have to have bits of his own music thrown at him. That is an experience that a Beatle will certainly have had, but NO classical musician since Puccini. Are you going to hear passages from Duke Bluebeard or the Second Piano Concerto playing from the juke-boxes, or kids dancing to them? Be serious!
Ah-ha! Light dawns! You're thinking of "popular" as in "populist"! I was thinking in terms of critical and monetary success, maybe even a degree of popular recognition. In this you're almost certainly right, especially when one considers a composer who is both popular and populist--most Americans could hum you the Hoedown from Rodeo . . . but only because it was in a viral TV commercial about fifteen years ago.
NO, I MEAN POPULAR AS IN POPULAR. AS IN WIDELY KNOWN. AS IN PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT IT TO EACH OTHER. AS IN EVERYONE RECOGNIZING IT WHEN IT IS PLAYED. AND NO COMPOSER AFTER 1921 IS THAT, EXCEPT FOR CROSSOVER TYPES LIKE GERSHWIN. NAME ME ONE FUCKING TUNE BY SHOSTAKOVICH, BARTOK OR BRITTEN THAT THE AVERAGE MODERATELY EDUCATED PERSON COULD RECOGNIZE. I MAKE AN EXCEPTION FOR BERNSTEIN SLUMMING IT IN WEST SIDE STORY. IF YOU IMAGINE THAT STRAVINSKY OR SCHOENBERG OR MESSIAEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH POPULARITY, YOU HAVE NO NOTION WHATEVER WHAT POPULAR MEANS.
"Critical acclaim" means considerably less than nothing. "Monetary success" is barely known to the average modern composer - compare Verdi buying himself an estate from his income, Rossini living like a lord in Paris, Wagner building his own theatre. Compare, more to the point, the immense wealth of pop stars. What is more, most of the income of a Peter Maxwell Davies or of a Luciano Berio comes from the public purse, through festivals, university and conservatory chairs, state-sponsored orchestras, etc. People may find the wealth of an Elton John obscene, but nothing that he spends has not come from the pockets of his public.
There is only one composition made since 1921 that has become as popular as great operas and symphonies regularly became in previous centuries, only one: Ravel's Bolero. Any other composer is someone whom the average person read about every now and then in the newspapers; and that is what passes for "popularity".
How are you defining "composition" and "composer", precisely? Because, as noted above, there are plenty of works written for movies that are definitely widely known.
The composer is the lead creator. Even when a major poet - such as Hugo von Hoffmanstahl - took to writing libretti for Richard Strauss, the resulting work is universally thought of as operas by Strauss with words by Hoffmanstahl, and not the reverse. Verdi dictated what his writers should write - they put up with it (except when they didn't) because he was consistently good box-office. Wagner wrote his own scripts, and he was not the only one. This excludes nearly every movie composer. I think personally that it is a very rare soundtrack that would survive two days without the memory of the movie to lend it meaning. John Williams, one of the most successful soundtrack writers there have ever been, is to my mind a lucky vulgarian whose brassy and arrogant sound could not support a symphony. Likewise, I strongly feel that Miklos Rosza's famous scores are often the weakest points of otherwise magnificent movies such as The Adventures of Robin Hood. There are a few exceptions, remembered when the movies they were written for are partly or wholly forgotten: Addinsell's Warsaw Concert, Michel Legrand's The Windmills of Your Mind (but that is a pop song - a great pop song, but a pop song), Michael Nyman's The Piano. But that is in the nature of an accident; in films, the soundtrack is written at the orders of the director or of the producer, and the relationship of the musician with either or both of them is the same as the librettist had with Verdi or Puccini or Richard Strauss.
Alas, no, but Joseph Machlis does!
"Doomed to total failure in a deaf world of ignorance and indifference, he inexorably kept on cutting out his diamonds, his dazzling diamonds, of whose mines he had such a perfect knowledge."
There can be no doubt that classical music has spent the last hundred years in taking itself as far from popular taste as it could.
This seems extreme to me. The nineteen-twenties certainly saw this phenomenon, but the new classicism of the 'thirties and 'forties gives it the lie, no? And there are tons of composers--at least North and South Americans--who found commercial as well as critical success in combining Western tonality with folk motifs. Off the top of my head, Copland, Bernstein, Ginastera, the contemporary (and stunning) Eric Whitacre . . .
I was discussing this with a housemate, and he pointed out that such a blanket statement also depends on a certain definition of "classical" music. Currently, the most popular (in every sense of the word) and lucrative markets for "classical" (that is, tonal, carefully orchestrated music) music are movies and video games. Concerts and albums based on the music from Lord of the Rings and "Final Fantasy" are wildly successful.
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So the question here is really: was Sir Paul's father typical of his generation, and was his son's upbringing typical of his? I honestly don't know much about McCartney's life, and I have no trouble believing he grew up approaching classical music as an alien subject. But does that mean everyone else did, too?
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And you haven't answered my question: is Paul McCartney typical of his generation? (I should perhaps also mention that I know virtually nothing of McCartney's life other than what's filtered through the gestalt.)
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There is only one composition made since 1921 that has become as popular as great operas and symphonies regularly became in previous centuries, only one: Ravel's Bolero. Any other composer is someone whom the average person read about every now and then in the newspapers; and that is what passes for "popularity".
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