To distinguish between what’s new and what’s old is ultimately a waste of time.
Even when I’m reading fiction, I can’t escape music: in Vikram Seth’s novel, The Golden Gate, the music of Schoenberg is anathema to the protagonist.
The ideas of George Rochberg seem a remarkable prophecy of the polystylism of today’s contemporary music landscape, yet Rochberg’s own music is sadly neglected and his wrtitings about music alternately provoke irrational vitriol or hyberbole.
The magic of music is that, while it exists in time, it has the ability to bend time. So why do so many concerts list the duration of each of the works on the program?
NPR has cancelled their two remaining syndicated programs devoted to classical music: Performance Today and SymphonyCast, but I’m not terribly shocked.
In a world where most composers are self-published, wouldn’t the use of opus numbers today seem like the ultimate act of hubris?
Why is the classical music community so obsessed with how old people are?
The only constructive thing one can do with negative criticism is criticize it.