(Continued)

At 11:16 AM 1/31/05 -0800, you wrote:
>Sibelius, whom you related to us died before you were 
>born.   I was seven months old when Sibelius died.

It wasn't Sibelius. I just wanted it that way, I think. :) It was Bartok
and Webern who died a few years before, and sadly, Richard Strauss actually
overlapped my birth by six months. I'm apparently not as young as I feel.

Am I getting redundant? My point is simple and you give it too much credit
in your details. But onward ... maybe I can liven it up a bit...

>So he's 
>not verboten to me, but is completely useless to you.   Am I 
>interpreting you correctly?    Or were you then and still now 
>being facetious merely for the sake of speciousness?

No, not facetious, but it's not gonna happen anyway. Too many interests are
involved, not least of which are organizations like major orchestras and
opera companies and public radio for whom adventure might also mean
economic collapse. But if in some hermetically sealed state, if it were
possible, or at least if there were such positions advanced, what would it
sound like? Or if there were analysis done of that culture, what would it say?

Now it gets hard.

Two posts ago, I recounted my continental-shift idea -- that composers kept
moving along in their self-absorbed creative state in making new music,
while marketers sought to maximize return, and their audiences unknowingly
became part of a psych-cash investment recovery pattern unusual to the
musical arts. I suggested why it happened, but in an information-rich
culture, why hasn't it changed?

Music is problematic because only one piece can be heard at a time (unless
you are Data), limiting by waking hours the maximum possible choices. If a
museum culture is adopted by the purveyors of any serial artform, then the
past (well known and cheap to replicate) crowds out the present. The
physical constraints are not unique to music nor even the performance arts
(reading is serial), but in those arts where the language is not shared
(i.e., where the consumer is no longer literate), it increases the
perceived value of easy consumption.

This is arguably the case in all creative endeavors (or even hamburgers),
but if we have a look at education, we find a real distinction. Children
and older students are taught to read, write, look, speak, draw, cipher,
dance, sing, play, build, cook... but in music, what we call "reading" is
dominated by eye-to-hand mapping rather than the cognitive process of sight
reading (as if one were taught to read words only by sounding them out
aloud -- and never silently to oneself -- and listening to one's own voice
for meaning, as some aphasia sufferers must do), and worst of all, there is
almost no writing of any kind. This is compounded by the advanced education
of professionals, where the closest activity to writing might be arranging
-- still largely one of the re-productive arts -- rather than composition.
Writing is exceptional rather than quotidian.

When the musical culture (amateur and professional) is one of received
information, and when the culture at large is afflicted with
high-consumption behavior, then it is almost inevitable that the psych-cash
investment cycle will be rewarded by more of the same material drawn from a
body of familiar, exchangeable, inexpensive and field-tested components.

You talked about distinguishing Mozart from Vivaldi (or maybe it was two
other composers; they're all the same to me). Was this an artistic
distinction, or just an ear-training guessing game, a Wheel of Fortune for
notes? If the educated, intelligent audience has no way to replicate this
knowledge (as it might be drawing or writing or singing or sculpting) and
then expand upon it (through the addition of ideas and experiments) and no
encouragement to do so, then a resistance to new material becomes a
psychologically self-protective mechanism. (Challenge in general might
become alien in a society where artificially induced self-esteem is a
requisite component of education ... but that's substance for a different
discussion.)

Look what's going on, then: exposure is limited and adaptive tools are
withheld, leading to new music being felt as culturally toxic, an invader
of the cultural body. To many listeners and even musicians who have been
culturally abused in education, the reaction is exactly that -- as if their
body were producing antibodies in response to these invasive sonic antigens
(against which there are no earflaps). If you watched audience reaction
during the worst years of new nonpop's rejection, you could see it was
almost biological reaction, an induced physical illness. This museum
culture of music that we have fashioned is almost as fragile as the
Martians in "War of the Worlds".

So now the new nonpop problem is intertwined up in history, economics,
culture and biology. But fortunately, musicians like yourself have begun an
allergy desensitization program. That's one step.

Who will begin the programs of economic change (taking the marketing risk)?
How about Richard Branson? But I already asked him
(http://maltedmedia.com/books/papers/sc-brans.html) in 1998, and after
working through the corporate bureaucracy, received a rejection. A brave,
visionary, enthusiastic mogul could increase visibility. I still pursue
that goal with regular letters to the incomprehensibly wealthy. My personal
note to Bill Gates (whom I knew in the early computer days) a few months
ago was intercepted by Microsoft Corporate, which said it was not a program
of interest. But I continue, knowing that a well-funded marketing campaign
can sell (or elect) anything.

Next component, then: Who will begin the educational change? Ouch, ouch,
this is very tough. We've lost one generation of educators, now unfamiliar
with nonpop (whether new or old, classical or electroacoustic or
performance-art based or any other kind, or even jazz, which has collapsed
toward history and commerce, save for artists like David Ware). Even those
who were and are conversant with it have not enabled students with the
bundle of tools for writing, for making their own mark on musical history,
and for inventing their own ideas.

Personal diversion: In the latter regard I was lucky, having had a high
school band director who encouraged my composition (for I started to
compose within months of learning notation by applying for my first
instrument in the school band, a bass clarinet) by treating it as a *normal
behavior*, and giving me opportunities to conduct snippets in rehearsal
during band time (he taught me the basics of conducting during those bass
clarinet lessons, too). The very normalcy of writing that he presented --
for as a child who moved from school to school, I could not know that
composing was abnormal -- encouraged me to continue until I hit college,
where the department chairman (forever curse your memory, Henry Kaufmann!)
said to me "Our undergraduates do not compose" and shut down any
opportunity for me to show my work to anyone. At that point, my desire was
almost killed, for as a poor boy working full time, I could not afford to
transfer elsewhere from this state school. Fortunately, my SQ (stubbornness
quotient) has always exceeded my IQ, and so I continued with my work.

But in the subsequent years, I learned that creating music is one of the
most suppressed endeavors in the entire spectrum of general liberal arts
education. It is too time-consuming to encourage, the teachers are not
given the tools to teach it (and I earned a parallel music education
certification and minored in psychology, so learned that first hand), and
composition is thus left to specialists who work with specialists in a
culture that -- you got it -- does not value their specialty.

I have no idea how to solve the educational problem other than
re-introducing music as if it were an entirely new process. But with the
dominance of performance-based high-sales-value programs like Orff, Kodaly,
Suzuki, etc., I have little hope that such re-introduction can be done
directly. Institutional education has a symbiotic relationship with its
suppliers, and professional education of educators remains staggeringly
conservative -- even moreso as the classroom teacher is drafted into
teaching political codes regarding drugs, sex, politics, and science. The
music teacher with the rolling cart of pitiful musical trinkets, or the
band or choral director coping with a frills-based budgetary psychology is
not going to be adding to the daily workload by teaching writing. There's
no support -- not from administrators, nor educational suppliers, nor
parents, nor those who believe the first duty of music is to create little
annual stage spectacles or jack up the football team's testosterone level
(how well I remember being a stupid spoke in the Rutgers' Marching 100's
"1812 Overture" set during a rainstorm that had up clomping through a sea
of mud!).

So that takes care of biology, culture and economics, and leaves only the
topic at hand, history. (I didn't forget!)

Premise: History is easy. That doesn't mean it's correct history, but
anybody can plumb history because either (1) they're historically minded
and it challenges their interest -- hence the treatises and reconstructions
and restorations and orchestrations and notational modernizations -- or (2)
somebody else did it and it's there for the using.

Musical historians are the microscopic minority, so it's received musical
material that is at the heart of my complaint. Because the received
repertoire is available, it is familiar, we re-use it, inventing along the
way a "crawl before you walk" (CraBYoW) theory to support our behavior. If
CraBYoW were true, though, we'd be starting off our concerts with monody,
working through organum, motets, and tropes, through virelais and ars nova
counterpoint, training theorboists, setting up antiphonal goodies, and
coursing through that bizarre-ass early baroque kibble long before we hit
our classical boy-toy and his tragically hip pneumococcus.

But the crawling has never really been done, and the process -- whatever it
really is -- has utterly failed, hardly resulting in any walking at all. In
truth, CraBYoW is classical nonpop's Official Urban Legend, a kind of
accidental classical-music eugenics theory that eliminates diverse
contemporary culture from the concert hall.

To this, cutoff dates are a solution (see? you knew I'd get there!), but
require a cooperative rethinking among professionals, and taking a lesson
from out-of-work family farmers and how their imagination can teach us a
great deal. Still a hard row to hoe.

>Please 
>let me know because if I have you right, I'm going to have to do 
>some serious culling of my wine cellar....

How much will you charge for shipping? :)

(Damn, mistah, why'd you reawaken my slumbering evil twin?)

Dennis


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