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The Crisis of Classical Music 11

  Tobias

I am currently reading the manuscript of “Heart Beating, Ear Drumming”, a fascinating book by Los-Angeles born rhythm guru Z’EV. Without wanting to narrow the book down to a single subject, it deals extensively with the relationship between drums, sound and the “Trance State”. Somewhere in between his dense, demanding and yet decidedly humorous musings, he notes that the second part of Universe is “verse” and thereby coincides nicely with the idea that our world was born from “the word”. And this served to remind me once again that the way we talk about the world will determine the way we see it (and vice versa). And that a lot of the problems of Classical Music might have to do with the fact... that it is called “Classical Music”.

And with some other things as well, but I will try not to get ahead of myself. To make my point more clear, I will start with a little history of Rock, simply because it spans a mere 40-50 years (depending who you ask) and not about 400-500 (or more, depending on your definition) and because it is encountering similar problems. When “Rock” established itself as a serious genre in the 60s and 70s, everything was still fresh and new, each album opened up entirely new rooms of expressions, established its own set of rules. From the pleasure of listening came the wish of discussing (about these new sensations) and rock journalism made its entry. Its first task was to report about what happened in the scene (because regular papers would turn a blind eye or write derogatively of these supposedly anarchistic bands), to analyse what happened in the music (to “document” progress so to speak) and to classify (into “good” and “bad”, “meaningful” and “meaningless”, “important” and “unimportant”). As the genre, which would soon “rock the entire world” (pun intended), was merely getting started, journalists kept coming back to the same albums again and again, delving deeper and deeper into their core and extracting every second of meaning – like when you were a child and would listen to that one song over and over again. This is what made the albums of Bob Dylan, The Beatles, The Stones, the Byrds and all of those other bands stand out – they were the cornerstones of a nascent movement, which at first seemed to break with all tradition and bring love and excitment to everyone. Of course, things turned sour soon after.

The term “Classic” was coined in this very time of beginnings. “Classic” albums would be the ones that had made a huge impact, that continued to inspire despite their age and which won new fans as time moved on. But as Pop and Rock turned corporate, this meaning got distorted. Rock had won the revolution, it had changed people’s perceptions, their clothes and their aesthetics in general to a point, when most other music became “counter culture” (Hip Hop and Techno, at least at first, were decidedly Anti-Rock). But while more and more people joined the band wagon, the root values got lost. When the revolution becomes a routine instead of a ritual, it looses its potential. And the sheer mass of releases made even the most outstanding works seem derivative and pale. If someone would record a collection of brilliantly written songs, it would either be “a new Bob Dylan” or  it would re reduced to “great craftmanship”. Journalism’s job turned from analysing and classifying into two-tier boredom: There was the daily business of featuring new releases and the mission of polishing the holy grale of the “Classics” and passing it on to future listeners. The same generation that had criticised their parents for revelling in “old music” kept voting “Pet Sounds” by the Beach Boys as the number one album of all times – and refusing to let the new crusaders into their sacred top 100. The industry followed suit and segmented their catalogue into current CDs and the “Classics” as well – thereby perpetuating the media’s bipolar apporach. And it is this what lies at the heart of the current problem of the music business and even more so of Classical Music.

Why? Well, for a simple reason: Because people don’t listen to music this way. Admittedly, there’s quite a few who will turn to the “Oldies” channel on the radio or dream away while listening to that “Dirty Dancing”-Soundtrack. But in general, people follow their instincts when appreciating music and not the classifications of some marketing executive. When I got myself a copy of “Pet Sounds”, I was naturally aware of the articles written in praise of it. But when I listened to it, I was totally uninterested in the fact that it was deemed a “Classic”. Instead, I was blown away by these almost unbearably emotional songs, by these tender voices and by the inescapable flow and dream-like ambiance of the work. In that very moment, it meant everything to me – in the present, not in the past or future. And when you’re still going to school, when you don’t even know who John Lennon was and you discover The Doors or Janis Joplin, they also become part of your present. They’re not icons of some distant memory, but something almost physically present in your life. Reducing them to the status of “Classic” does them injustice and turns them into an abstract cypher. At the same time, contemporary albums are refused this status, because they are gone from the radar once their time on the charts has passed. They will never get the chance to be explored the way the old albums did – because there’s no room for that any more in the media. The only place where this would be possible are the chat rooms and forums on the net – and they are mostly clogged up by people who dispise everyone who disagrees with them. And if this is what the media are presenting, then the facination for the music will soon die down.

And this is the very problem Classical Music faces. I can still recall when I bought my first Mahler-CD. It was a cheap 5 Durch Duilders disc, which I snapped up from a sales-table at the “Bijenkorf”, a posh department store in The Hague. I can still recall what an impact the the first symphony had, what those deep bass strings did to me somewhere in the middle of the first movement. And again, this was a sensation which was all “now”. The fact that we call this music “Classical” is already taking away any chance of it having a meaning in the present. Which is ironic when you come to think of it – many Stravinsky pieces sound so much more “modern” than anything the Beatles ever did (and they were innovator in their field!). And when I listen to Mozart now, whom I couldn’t stand as a child, I am suddenly moved, despite the fact that he lived and died decades ago. All the same, classical labels are being praised in the media for carefully selecting pictures from the era, whence the music came from. While the listener has no emotional attachment to that period whatsoever. To him, Mozart takes on a new meaning, a personal one, a 21st century one. And those classifications and desperate attempts at branding this music as “Classical” only serve to draw the focus away from his or her heart getting in touch with the essence. All the same, young listeners can not but shy away from a genre, which seems to openly flout their interest in something “new”. While it is only its name which is backwards oriented.

Classical Music is digging its own grave, if it continues to speak and write about itself this way. I do realise that everything serves its purpose and that it is an illusion to believe that suddenly record stores will place Beethoven next to the Beatles and Mahler next to Massive Attack. Actually, that is not even what it is about. And to all those linguists reading this, I am aware of the fact, that “Classical” actually has a different meaning attached to it, referring to  a certain period only. But I do believe that the effort has to be made to find new metaphors and new words to bring across the power this music can still have. And I do believe that by allowing this music to “live” again, by getting back and again to the same recording from different perspectives will detach us from the vicious cycle of daily routine and bring us closer to a freely breathing scene, which can focus on the music, not the hype. And you don’t need to believe the world was born from the word to agree with this.

By Tobias Fischer