Month: December 2021

Outsider

Slowly working my way through Grammy listening lists, the fact, which I already knew, that I am a musical outsider became steadily more apparent. I always enjoy voting during the 1st round, finding so many artists whose works were previously unknown to me creating albums that are unique, interesting and full of passion. Then, I get to the 2nd round, and discover that, with only a few exceptions, none of the albums I voted for in the 1st round made it to the nomination stage. This year, there were a number of categories in which I would normally cast a vote that I skipped entirely because I could not find a single one of the five nominations that struck me as worthy of the recognition of a Grammy award. Obviously, enough others thought they were worthwhile efforts – but there I was, scratching my head while listening, wondering what it could have been that impressed all the other voters. Proof once again, that my musical tastes run far from the mainstream.

When I first started composing, most other composers I met were still writing 12 tone music – something which has as little appeal to me now as it did back then. Then, minimalism became (and is still, to some extent) a rage – music which, if anything, I dislike even more than 12 tone music. Now, if the Grammy nominations are any indication, people have fallen for rhythmically driven music, often with repetitive riffs, that show (at least to my ear) little art.

The art of music is made up of distinct elements – melody, rhythm, counterpoint, harmony, tonality, structure, timbre – and it is the artful combination of all of these that allow music to be such an extraordinarily rich vehicle for expressing emotions and telling a story that makes you want to share its journey. In different ways than serial or minimalist music do, much of the music I heard in this year’s nominations abandon one or another of those basic elements, resulting in a far less rich musical landscape. The music, at least to my ear, avoids rather than prompts expressions of deep emotion, thus falling into the realm of entertainment, rather than art. Whether or not I personally succeed at the art I strive for when writing music, is another matter, but the music I heard, with some exceptions, didn’t appear to me to even try to get there.

Some observations after sight reading Handel keyboard works

Having, over the past few weeks, gradually read my way through an edition of Handel’s keyboard music, music with which I was previously unfamiliar, I couldn’t help but make comparisons to Bach. For one thing, it struck me that Handel was far less skilled a contrapuntalist than Bach, relying more on harmonic progressions than on tightly knit counterpoint than Bach. In these keyboard pieces, he is also far less harmonically adventurous than Bach – he rarely modulates far afield from whence he started and often repeats (sometimes to a fault) the same simple tonal harmonic patterns. In the suites, while he has movements that are similarly titled to those in Bach suites – allemande, courante, gigue – they sound more English – especially in the movements that don’t have a dance title, but rather are simply called allegro or presto. As I played through the pieces, I was often more reminded of works that are in my copies of the Fitzwilliam Virginal books than of Bach or other Baroque composers of keyboard pieces. That is especially true of the several Chaconnes in the volume, two of which are in the same key as the Goldberg Variations and employ similar progressions to the opening 8 bars of Bach’s masterpiece – but then, like many English composers from an earlier generation, he repeats that same 8 bar phrase in a series of simplistic variations, often repeating couplets where one variation with quick notes in the right hand is followed by a similar one with the same pattern switched into the left.

Despite the above, which appears to criticize Handel’s writing, the music is nevertheless delightful to play. While playing I vaguely recalled reading that Beethoven, while having great respect for Bach, preferred Handel. Reading through these keyboard works, I could see why. Beethoven’s strengths (and weaknesses) were, to my mind, exemplified by the differences I found between Handel and Bach. Despite some extraordinary efforts at counterpoint, Beethoven’s strength, similar to this observation about Handel, was in harmonic progression. Somehow, Beethoven’s counterpoint never seems effortless – as does that of Bach. Somehow, I suspect Beethoven may have been envious of Bach’s extraordinary skill and felt more comfortable with Handel’s efforts. The several fugues by Handel in the collection I was reading were not, in my view, entirely successful. He rambles and seems unable to shape his fugal themes into an overall form that works effectively.

I suppose the greatest surprise for me was how I managed to have this volume in my music cabinet, for goodness knows how long, without ever pulling it out and reading it until this week.