When I listen to this kind of music, I imagine I am like an animal listening to human music, perceiving some dim reflection off a distant surface.
Simply making “good music” in our idiom(s) of choice is not enough, when many people simply may not have the footholds to grasp our intended meanings.
Following up on some loose threads from last week’s post, I’d like to delve a little further into the many-layered and non-transparent relationship between composers, performers, and listeners in music.
Why is indeterminacy still looked upon with such suspicion in the new music world, 100 years after John Cage’s birth?
So the term “indie classical” seems to be ascending in popularity, along with the requisite hand-wringing about what it means, whether or not it’s a good thing, and whether or not it’s even worth thinking about.
For now, I’m more or less a freelance composer, with all the uncertainty and freedom that implies. I graduated with a terminal degree (I love the morbidity of calling an education “terminal”) two years ago, which is just long enough ago that I’m finally beginning to feel somewhat objective about the whole experience.
It’s easy to understand the appeal of an article like the Wall Street Journal‘s “Anatomy of a Tear-Jerker,” which purports to explain why Adele’s hit song “Someone Like You” makes people cry. Unfortunately, the article is marred by a number of scientific, musical, and aesthetic misconceptions, some glaring and some more subtle.