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The Crisis of Classical Music 9

  Tobias

I don’t know about you, but to me it seems there is something very strange going on in the world of Classical music. When browsing through the myriad of features on the net or when checking the reviews-sections in magazines and news papers, I am regularly filled with a strong sense of compassion and heart-felt sympathy for those poor artist slaughtered on the altar of some critic’s vanity. “A motivated student can easily do better than this”, Classical Magazine Fono Forum recently exclaimed with regards to the mediocre talent of a pianist and their compatriots of Klassik.com introduced the new Simon Rattle recording with the assumption that he is probably “more busy marketing himself than investing into real orchestral work” – even though it has to be said that they kindly concede that this “is a totally legitimate thing”. Yet when I turn to the Internet Pages of even the most castigated musician, all I see is praise. On the page of aforementioned pianist I find the following: “dispatches the music with a flamboyance and panache that betrays her young age but certainly not her precocious talent”, “this is superbly put across” and even “full of charm and grace, but also, when warranted, a certain virtuosic passion”. A critical note? Nowhere to be found

A big Music publication recently wrote that there can be no more real Pop Criticism in Germany anymore, because everybody’s best friends with everybody else. In Classical territory, however, it is even worse: Critics and performers have grown so far apart that they can only be complete strangers – more often, they’re enemies. And as always, both sides can both be blaimed and forgiven. Journalists have long traded their job of writing about music for a plain card of seemingly intellectual, but really rather hollow words and a tiresome search for superlatives – be they positive or negative. They have also given up on appreciating music on a momentous basis – every rendition of a piece now needs to be compared and judged against every single previous one, needs to be analysed and weighed against a historic chain of legends and lost gods. No wonder artists are both afraid to fail and are clinging to positive response like a drowning man to a rope. But they have no real right to complain. Hiding in their ivory tower of artistic inviolability, protected by managers, record companies and agents, they have turned from human beings to cartoons. It’s a tragic mistake: Getting to know the woman or the man behind the music is a major key to understanding their interpretations – and to appreciating them, for that matter.

But that’s only part of the story. Hiding behind it are the two real problems of Classical artists: For one, a deep-rooted fear of not being loved. And, secondly, a total lack of comprehension for what makes people buy and fall for music. While they may be forgiven for the first part, there’s no excuse for the latter. Not while there’s a million of interesting and noteworthy publications out there that deal with the music business and offer an insight into its mechanisms. But we needn’t even turn to third parties – I personally am bored to death of visiting all these web pages and reading nothing but short excerpts, instead of full reviews! And I am bored to death of reading the same words all over again – interpretations are always “full of fire” and “passion”, technical abilities “impeccable”. And when reading artists’ biographies, it’s nothing but a long list of prizes, awards, distinctions and collaborations with the most famous orchestras, which leaves me dizzy in the head and with a burning question: Who are these people?

Even though I am a strict enemy of degrading reviews, just like everybody else, I do appreciate a colourful palette of opinions. And just like everybody else, I like music not only for what it is, but for what it isn’t. My decisions on what to buy or on which concert to visit can mostly be rationally explained, but that doesn’t make them any less emotional, spontaneous and impulsive. When I feel the urge of putting on a warm and dreamy drone record, this is fueled just as much by my desire for peace and silence as by my aversion to noise. And when I long for Toros Can’s unworldly and almost evanescent renditions of Purcell’s grounds and suites, I do this because I don’t want anything too conrete. Translated to a different level, this means that musicians are never just the sum of their acchievments and their brilliant reviews. They’re a wild bouquet of characteristics, which make me either appreciate them or dislike them, but which give me an indication of their true self. And which allows me to understand them and develop a connection between them and myself. If they won’t tell me who they really are, with all their wonderful talents and all their mistakes, I can neither admire them nor try to bridge the divide. Actually, I feel as though there’s no real interest on the other side in me or my opinion.

Pop and Rock acts, as well as popular labels have understood this and it wasn’t too long ago that the Classical scene owned this knowledge as well. Think of Karajan, think of Callas and you will imediately be able of telling why you like or dislike them. And this is because they never made a secret of what they stood for (even though they both lived a highly stylised life and very likely had a lot of things they hid from the public). If Karajan didn’t publish negative feedback, it wasn’t because he was afraid people were not going to buy his records any more – but because he simply refused to take it seriously. And there’s a world of difference between these two positions.

However badly written, each review gives us a slice of information that can help us with getting to know an artist – and draws us nearer to his or her art (and heart). We need more of that. We need artists who are fine with putting up negative criticism, who thank editors for brutal pannings, who can look their audience in the eye and daringly reveal something of themselves through his or her music and actions. As long as the audience is left standing in the cold as to their personalities and intentions, the crisis of Classical Music will persist.

"The Crisis of Classical Music" by Tobias Fischer