I’ve been thinking a lot recently about John Cage’s final definition of music, which is an extremely compact two-word koan: sounds heard.
Philip Glass (in a small room), Windows (Eno vs. Fripp), critics (philosophy and disguises of), music (time off from), and stuff (free).
Ms. Reynolds opens a very large subject relevant to our age in American music education. Band, orchestra, and choral music for children to perform should be written by the best composers, and in fact most of it today is written by non-composers.
Admit it. You have weird taste in music and you compose stuff that’s even weirder. So why gripe about the fact that the general public has no interest in what you’re doing?
Blogging has helped make us more of a community, but it is just a tool.
Andrew Lloyd Webber gives us a run for our money and so does the Mac store. Plus more lists and predictions of doom for the iPod generation.
Where are all of the music criticism adjectives hiding?
Why do so many composers still insist on numbering their works rather than naming them?
The year that was, on the Internet and in our hearts: the coolest writers, videos, and concert calendars on the web, plus new developments in everyone’s favorite 21st-century topic—digital rights management.
How much do journalists need to know about music in order to write about it?