Uptown and Downtown are historic terms that are completely meaningless when applied to modern composition today.
At home, I drink red wine while hearing things like the three carefully intertwined lines of counterpoint in the fourth movement of Mozart’s Divertimento for String Trio all the time, but being able to do so during a live performance makes the music breathe differently.
Since posting my report on Golijov’s Ainadamar (“Fountain of Tears”), I’ve been trolling around Internetland reading more about what others have thought of the production. The most striking report came courtesy of The Standing Room, which took critics and fellow bloggers to task for failing to comment on the political implication of the piece.
In which we do our best to avoid the powdered-wigged one’s birthday and highlight less over-exposed genius where we find it.
You’re probably well familiar with Chamber Music America, an organization dedicated to the niche field of chamber music. What you may not realize is that there are a vast number of musicians, especially young people like myself, who are in the dark about such organizations…
Almost a decade ago people used to look at me funny when I said something like: Anybody can compose music. Why does everybody think it’s so difficult?…
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?