Classical music is dead: long live classical music

Discussions on the internet about the death of classical music began in early 2007 with Norman Lebrecht's The Life and Death of Classical Music. I wrote a post addressing his argument here. And later in February of 2007 I wrote another post about embracing the ways classical music is changing.

In 2012 one thing death related concerning classical music seemed clear: the musical blogosphere was dwindling due to the ever-changing nature (and the commercial nature) of the internet, and the dominance of Facebook. Facebook does make it possible for musicians, who, as a species do not have much in the way of financial resources, to share information, written music, streaming and recorded performances, friendship, humor, news, gossip, musical services, and advice. The blogosphere does not. But I'm still here.

Lisa Hirsch, Ken Woods, and Bob Shingleton are still here too. I try to keep my blogroll (to the right) up to date, and really appreciate the chance to read about their thoughts about music and culture. Both Ken and Lisa are active on Twitter, a forum that I do not like to participate in (and, because it isn't vital to anything that I do, don't).

But looking at classical music from the window of my internets, I see a "classical music" that is quite different from the one that people were mourning and eulogizing a dozen years ago.

This classical music, which is being forged by people working from home, has more sub-species than it has boundaries. Suddenly "new music" does not have to be intellectual, complicated, and difficult in order to be meaningful. It doesn't have to be difficult to play in order to grab the attention of people who play it or people who listen. It doesn't have to be written by unapproachable old people who look down on the musicians who play it.

[A quick aside: I'm reminded of the story of Villa Lobos coming to hear an in-home performance of his string quartet played by the Hollywood String Quartet, where the cellist, who unable to physically sustain a pizzicato passage for its full duration without leaving out a couple of notes (to avoid cramping), made him so angry that he spent an hour of the evening sitting at the piano and playing an ostinato passage over and over. He didn't happen to consider that pizzicato on the cello might involve different muscles from the ones you use while playing the piano, but I'm sure he considered the fact that the cellist was a woman. He might have even noticed that she was a GREAT cellist, and he might have unconsciously hated the fact that she was. Just a thought.]

When I was growing up classical music had a handful of standard configurations. I could always count on them. I will list them here:

Full Orchestra
String Orchestra
Orchestra with Instrumental Soloist
Wind Ensemble
String Quartet
String Quintet
Woodwind Quintet
Piano Trio
Piano Quartet
Piano Trio
String Sextet (for Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and Schoenberg)
Triosonata group (four people)
Violin and Piano Duo
Cello and Piano Duo
Brass Quintet
Wind Instrument and Piano
Brass Instrument and Piano
Voice and Piano
Voice and Piano with an instrumental obbligato
Solo Voice with Orchestra
Full Chorus
Women's Chorus
Men's Chorus
Chorus and Piano
Opera

With very occasional exceptions the music was written by men. Mostly dead. And most of them were either European or of European descent (Villa Lobos was one an exception--he was from Brazil).

There were mixed ensembles that used "unconventional" instruments (Villa Lobos, once again--he may have been a bully, but he was an excellent composer). The other big ones were Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, Stravinsky's L'Histoire du Soldat, and Milhaud's La creation du monde, which used saxophone.

I rembember the days when people used to talk about which records they would want to have with them on a desert island. Because it was such a far-fetched idea, people would think seriously about their choices. Well folks, we have all been experiencing the cultural isolation one might find on a desert island, but this island happens to have broadband. And this island happens to have working laptops that are powered by solar energy (a future image that used to seem crazy, but, aside from the desert island part, is now actually plausible). We can, in essence, "curate" the culture that we want to have. In some ways that is creepy and scary, but for musicians it is welcoming, and we can enjoy watching boundaries breaking down from the safety of our homes, with the hope to returning to a concert environment that has been expanded and changed for the better.

The only professional paths we had in music when I was starting in music were to be a member of an orchestra, be a teacher, or be a soloist. Being part of a chamber music group was like being a soloist. In order to get concerts that paid any kind of fee, you had to have a manager, and "getting" management often involved winning a major competition. The field was narrow, and the market for "acts" was geared towards the conventional (see above list). Managers ruled the musical world. If you had good management, you had a chance at a career. 

I'm happy to report that the illusion that the only great musicians (and composers) were the ones you have heard about has been burst. And I like to think that the "death" that some have claimed to have observed in classical music is the death of that illusion.

Great musicians from the past and from the present are EVERYWHERE. And they ones who are living play every instrument and sing far better than most people did half a century ago. Thanks to excellent teaching, better instruments, ergonomic devices that help alleviate injuries, and supportive communities, online and otherwise, great musicianship is everywhere. It's even in tiny towns in Illinois. And twenty-first-century musicians play in combinations that would never have been considered possible during the nineteenth century, or even during much of the twentieth century.

We have had great role models during this pandemic year (and a half), when music making has been done almost exclusively at home. Augustin Hadelich has shown us just how well it can be done, but he has also inspired countless other musicians (not just violinists) to become better musicians by taking their work seriously, and practicing and thinking about music in creative and expressive ways. He has made it "cool" for musicians to be passionate about what they do for its own sake, rather than for the sake of impressing others or seeking recognition for their work.

I first heard him play in 2006. I wrote reviews of his recordings back in my reviewing days. I told everyone I knew about him, but so many who had never heard of him didn't listen (or appear to care). Now they have, and they do care, and their lives are all the richer for it. Also, Augustin took the time made available to him during the pandemically-driven hiatus from playing his usual repertoire (that does habitually include new music) to explore, record, and perform previously marginalized (for no good reason) violin music written by Black composers. This music will remain in his repertoire because it is excellent music.

Now everyone seems to be onboard, and the music that people are publishing for the first time (like Florence Price's previously unpublished work) will surely stay in the repertoire.

Last night I had the wonderful opportunity to watch the Perils of Pierrot program put on by the Erato Ensemble. They performed my Pierrot songs beautifully, but I was most impressed with some music for flute, clarinet, and piano by Valerie Coleman called "Portraits of Langston." The concert is available to watch today and tomorrow here on the Erato Ensemble Facebook Page.