Maybe I’m way out of line here—if so, please call me out—but I just can’t help thinking that a little mandatory instruction in vernacular new music might pay off.
By hermetically sealing off a single composer’s work when we present single-composer concerts, are we somehow losing a contextual framework for listening to it?
Can a slow tempo makes a piece for young people bomb?
Boldly going where new music has never (or at least recently) gone before: DBR on CBS, copyright comics, and critics get the last word, again.
Why not tap composers to specifically create these aural pacifiers, rather than compromise music not designed to be presented in such a context? What about a sonic environment designed to gently transition the ears from the constant din of whirring airplane engines to the comparative peace and quiet of the terminal?
Welcome, Colin Holter, a first-year grad student at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign who will be blogging on grad school issues. You can read him here each Wednesday.
While the notion of a premiere occuring on a specific date and geographical venue in history is comforting to musicologists and folks who compile best of the year or best of the nation lists, it presents a somewhat incomplete picture of how creative works evolve and manifest themselves.
Got questions? We’ve got answers.
Should we really be calling ourselves composers when we’re really just part-timers?
Imagine being an actor and being given a copy of a script that only contained your lines; that’s exactly what composers do to musicians when they give them parts that only contain the notes for that particular individual to play.