by Andrew Selle (guest writer)

(Footnotes at end of post)

​Each of us has our own innate beliefs and intuitions about what music “is,” if it can be anything. To some, only the high Classical really counts, and the flowery, indulgent ornamentation of the Baroque and Romantic styles are simply too much. (This is to say nothing of the common response to Modernist and contemporary music.) To many others, the concept of “music” can be defined much more broadly, and many sounds, even those that are traditionally “non-musical” might be included in this wide scope of musical appreciation. However, this discussion is not about what music is; even if I felt I had an answer to this question, it is perhaps a fool’s errand to try to convince anyone what music may or may not be. Instead, what I wish to discuss is the various ways that we talk about music and the properties that we impose upon it, especially in terms of musical structure. By “structure,” I do not simply mean form (although form is undoubtedly a part of it); rather, I mean the perception of the construction and deployment of an entire musical work or series of works, including musical discourse, syntax, form, and even potential semiotic units.
My central argument about musical structure is simply this: music cannot have structure. The careful reader will note that I did not say listeners are unable to perceive structure; this is surely not the case. (Else an enormous part of the music-theoretical world will surely be cleaved, and an entire generation of theorists might be ridiculed.) Listeners can undoubtedly perceive musical structure, but it is often the case that we are too quick to attribute this perception to a property that the music “has” rather than as a construct that we impose upon it. To put it simply, if music has structure, it is because we, the listener, need/want it to. The invocation of musical structure relies entirely upon the listener and his or her extra-musical knowledge and experience; the music itself is nothing more than different frequencies at various energies over time, nothing more, nothing less. To use an analogy, imagine the Mona Lisa, one of the most (or perhaps the most) famous paintings in the world. When we look at this painting, we see the structure of the work immediately: the fair woman in the foreground of the painting with a sort of half smile set against a landscape behind her. Now, imagine this image being viewed by a life form who has never seen a human being nor any other type of humanoid creature. What would it see? Surely, it would not see or comprehend the same things that we do when we look at the painting, but rather it might see a series of colorful splotches and lines. It would be able to describe the painting in terms of concepts that it understands, but this description would scarcely overlap with our own. Our experience tells us that this painting is of a human because we understand the concept of the human “structure.” Similarly, when we talk about a musical structure, we must speak in terms of our own experiences. Thus, when we say that a particular piece is in “sonata form,” for instance, we are imposing this structure on the work; it is not a property that the music inherently has.1 As I stated above, if music has a structure, it is because the listener or analyst perceives it through extra-musical experience, not because the music has it.
What is the point of making this distinction, though? On the surface, this is an innocuous debate at best, and a pedantic philosophical slog at the worst. The problem is that time and again, theorists and critics make aesthetic and qualitative judgments about music, especially new music, based on the premise that it can have structural properties in the first place. In lieu of stating a simple distaste or unfamiliarity with contemporary and experimental music, conservative critics pass the buck onto the music itself for failing to pass some sort of a priori aesthetic or structural examination. Consider the following quote from Wallace Berry: “little if anything is more vital in musical form than the controlled maintenance, and effective change, subsidence, and direction of motion. Failure to move with conviction and direction is one of the most common and crippling defects of ineffective music.” He goes on to conclude that, “Without order, the musical material, however sound and vigorous, may be reduced through its aimless diffusion to an impotent stammer whose impression dissolves as it is issued, lacking the exercise of whatever potential may exist in it for assimilable unity, and renouncing all possibility of intellectual appeal.”2 It is not difficult to figure out what music it is that Berry considers “ineffective.”
This sort of aesthetic judgment based upon the idea that “Music” inherently has certain structural qualities allows for a not-so-subtle reinforcing of the traditional musical canon. It sets up an a priori aesthetic strawman against music that one does not like, and then the critic is allowed to pass it off as objective observation rather than subjective preference. “See, it’s not that I don’t like this music; it simply doesn’t have the inherent qualities that turns sound into music!” This type of logic should sound very familiar to anyone who has studied the theories and writing of Heinrich Schenker, perhaps the most influential and controversial figure in modern music-theoretical history. To put it as simply as I can for the uninitiated, Schenker theorized that all musical works can be understood as a linear prolongation of the tonic triad, consisting of a bass arpeggiation between I and V and a fundamental melodic line from scale degree 3 to 1 (and sometimes 5 to 1 or rarely 8 to 1) filled in with passing tones.3 It is not hard to quickly come up with a list of musical types for which this type of theory would be ineffective, such as modal polyphony, contemporary, pop, and any non-western/non-European musics based in any musical system other than common-practice tonality. Those who have read any of Schenker’s work know that he was not one to mince words, and he immediately dismissed works that did not fit within his theoretical system. What remained in the canon of “real music” was essentially written entirely by the German Classicists and Chopin.
There is also the inevitable danger that this sort of musical positivism will result in prescriptions for how music should be written. Speaking purely from my own experiences and anecdotes from colleagues, it is not at all rare to be subjected to admonitions from teachers and peers regarding the ways in which music you have composed does not do what “real music” does. “Real music has a goal.” “Real music uses the least musical ideas to say the most.” “Real music has structural unity.” Without getting into the metaphysics of reality, even if there were such a thing as “real” music (as opposed to “ineffective” music), it does or has nothing. The danger is that an entire generation of composers ceases to innovate and express themselves in favor of mimicking subjective a priori constructs, all in the name of adherence to principles that are seemingly inherent in good music. In reality, these qualities are subjective interpretations rather than objective truths. Though the sort of fire-and-brimstone rhetoric used here might seem extreme, it is a very real concern. It is the difference between saying “My music sounds like Ligeti’s because I like his music,” and “My music sounds like Ligeti’s because both adhere to principles of good musical composition.” The first is a subjective comparison, but the second supposes some underlying musical “truth.” In short, composers should not feel pressured to write in a way such that aesthetic and creativity are subservient to the canon of “real music.” The result of this pressure is dozens upon dozens of indistinguishable, vaguely avant-garde musical works that check all the boxes for what good contemporary music does.4 We should, of course, study music that we perceive to be successful or satisfying and synthesize some of its musical elements into our own lexicon. However, we should avoid actively creating a contemporary canon of “real” music; each individual work is its own unique experience, and whether or not it is “good” is entirely subjective. By remembering that qualitative and structural assessments are inherently constructs of the listener, we avoid the stagnation of our own musical culture and encourage growth and experimentation among the body of practicing musicians.
Let me state the obvious: no one should be punished or criticized for liking or disliking anything. It is not my goal to force anyone to like the music I like nor to stop anyone from stating that they do not like it. I believe one of the beautiful things about music is the non-universality of appreciation, that no one work is unanimously adored by all. However, it is important to realize that if you do not like a certain work or style of music, that is not a property inherent in the music but rather a property inherent in you. We are well past the point in musical history where we should be tolerating broad generalizations of what music is and is not based upon an individual’s propensity to like or understand that music. After all, any and every property and concept that can be perceived in a piece of music must first be present in the mind of the listener. We should all have the courage to state that we do not like something, but we should also have the courage to understand that this is not because of a property of music, but rather a property of ourselves.

Footnotes
1 I certainly do not mean to suggest that generalizable musical forms do not exist within the body of extant musical works. Clearly, many of the formal archetypes we discuss in theoretical circles are prevalent and recurring throughout musical history. My argument is simply that the perception of a work “having” or “being in” one of these archetypes relies on abstract knowledge of it in the first place.

2 Wallace Berry, Form in Music: An Examination of Traditional Techniques of Musical Form and Their Applications in Historical and Contemporary Styles (Prentice-Hall, 1986), 447–49.

3 I have no doubt that many theorists reading this might be mortified by this oversimplification of Schenkerian theory, but it is not my desire here to discuss all of its nuances, nor is it necessary to do so in order to make my overarching point.

4 Key clicks are apparently high up on this list.

Hello, readers. I wanted to let you all know that I'm making some changes to KLANG in the coming year. I'm hoping to start posting more regular content in 2018, and I am bringing on guest writers to bring a fresh perspective to experimental contemporary music.

One major change that I have decided to make is the "Early Reflections" section dedicated to interviews with emerging composers will have much better representation of marginalized voices in the new music community. As much as I love the music of a lot of white guys, there are plenty of women and people of color in the new music world, and their art deserves to be listened to, understood, and discussed just as much as anyone else's. 

Additionally, I have recently begun a series of reviews of CDs by New Focus Recordings. Moving forward I will continue these reviews, and will start to add reviews of concerts, festivals, upcoming events and any other activities and releases of new music related to the "fringe" music to which KLANG is dedicated. 

So in short, for those of you who have enjoyed reading my musings, interviews and reviews, I hope that you continue to make regular visits, as well as share these articles with your friends and colleagues. With any luck, this little project I started in late 2013 will become a helpful outlet for composers, performers, researchers, and all fans of contemporary music that doesn't always get a wide amount of exposure. 

Thanks for reading. 

      I think it’s fair to say that 20th and 21st century music don’t always get a fair amount of coverage in terms of music history and theory courses, specifically at the undergraduate level. I understand this is partially because of the wide variety of styles and developments that took place during the 20th century, but I still feel it is problematic that so much is left out. The musical developments of the 20th century, specifically the latter half of the 20th century, shaped our modern approaches and conception of music and art in popular genres and concert music, yet so little time is devoted to the study of that music. 
    I don’t feel that 20th/21st century music should dominate music history/theory curriculums, and I can only speak from personal experience, but I feel that a large majority of American music students are lacking in their knowledge of 20th century music beyond Stravisnky, the 2nd Viennese School and American minimalism. As an undergrad I learned about Debussy, Shoenberg, Webern, Berg, Bartok, Stravinksy, Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Ives, Poulenc and Copland in detail. After that unit of early 20th century music we jumped through Messiaen, mentioned that Darmstadt was a place that existed, learned a lot about American minimalism (at least Glass and Reich) and then finished a superficial passing of composers from ~1975-present. 
    That said, I don’t really have a solution for this problem, and I understand developing new courses and changing curricula is a long and difficult process. However, there are so many composers that I personally think all undergraduate students should know about, especially if they plan to continue with graduate studies in music. I have narrowed this list down to 35 composers who, if I had my druthers, would required information for all undergraduate history and theory courses. Below is my list of composers as well as a short rationale for each:


…but before we get started


Honorable Mention
These are composers I feel could be on this list, but excluded them because they seem to receive more coverage in undergraduate courses, and are performed more frequently. This, however, is based solely on my own undergraduate experience and my observation of other undergraduate curriculums I experienced through my graduate and doctoral studies.

           Elliott Carter
           Olivier Messiaen 
           John Cage
           Philip Glass
           Steve Reich
           John Corigliano
           John Adams

And, in a perfect world, I would prefer to teach two courses - early 20th century and late 20th/21st century history - which would include the following composers:

          Ruth Crawford Seeger
          Carl Ruggles
          Witold Lutoslawski
          György Kurtág
​          Toru Takemitsu
​          Alfred Schnittke
          Ben Johnston
          Stuart Saunders Smith
          John Luther Adams
          Joan La Barbara
         Brian Ferneyhough
         Tristan Murail
         Claude Vivier
         Libby Larsen
         Salvatore Sciarrino
         Laurie Anderson
         Chaya Czernowin
         Jennifer Higdon
         David Lang
         Julia Wolfe
        Michael Gordon
​        Unsuk Chin
         John Zorn
         Kevin Puts
         

        .......but we don't live in a perfect world, so let's move on
___________________________________________

The 35 Composers

Edgard Varese - emancipator of noise and sound; key figure in the early 20th century avant-garde, made major impact on electronic music (58 Brussels’ World Fair) , truly unique figure who influenced so many facets of music of the early, mid and late 20th century 


Pierre Boulez - arguably one of the most frequently performed and awarded musicians on the 20th century, very skilled conductor, virtuoso pianist, innovative composer, knowledgeable theorist and musicologist; we should get past the mistakes of his youth and give his work the respect it deserves 


Luciano Berio - Composer who balanced the lyricism and with the sound world and integral serial methods of the Darmstadt school (in early works), later works showing more eclecticism of style marked by post-Modernist composers, but with the gestural and harmonic language that grew out of Darmstadt. Berio also did some pioneering work in electronic music and text-sound composition; at a minimum one should know the Sequenzas


Karlheinz Stockhausen - Like Boulez, Stockhausen was one of the most influential musical figures of the 20th century, but Stockhausen’s influence (especially in electronic music) reaches into popular music and experimental rock and jazz; also a talented conductor, pianist and theorist in addition to being an innovative composer


Luigi Nono - Darmstadt composer with a different approach from the total serialism of Boulez, Berio, Stockhausen, et al; Nono brings a level of narrative and expression to what is otherwise very aggressive music; highly influential on developments in Italian music of the middle and late 20th century


Milton Babbitt - Though notorious for his “Composer as Specialist,” Babbitt was an incredible teacher and composer who influenced many composers of the 20th century (including musical composer Steven Sondheim); highly influential in terms of music theory and analysis of atonal music with pitch sets, serial procedures, combinatoriality, etc.; Pioneering work in electronic music at CPEMC


Harry Partch - His life is an incredible story; arguably the most important figure in microtonal music of the 20th century, instrument maker, highly influential on microtonal music (experimental and popular)


Iannis Xenakis  - Major figure in electronic music and mathematical approaches to composition with serialization; developed his own theories and approaches outlined in Formalized Music


Krzysztof Penderecki - All undergrads will know Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima, but it’s likely that few will know De Natura Sonoris Nos. 1 and 2, Polymorphia, Anaklasis, Kanon for Orchestra and Tape, Fluorescences, and the St. Luke Passion. Not only are these beatiful works that explore color and timbre as a primary formal framing device, they are all landmark works in sound mass composition. They are also all used in various films, including The Shining, The Exorcist, Wild at Heart, Children of Men and Shutter Island. Don’t like noisy sound masses? That’s ok, because Penderecki later turned his back on experimental noise music and began writing more traditional neo-Romantic music, which is equally beautiful, albeit a little on the “old” side for my personal taste (but no one asked for that here). 


Gyorgi Ligeti - Early pieces utilizing quotation and influence of Bartok and Kodaly, 50s and 60s compositions with micropolyphony, sound-mass composition, textural music based on electronic experimentation; later works showing a multitude of styles. Ligeti basically did it all, and did it well.


Morton Feldman - major figure in experimental music, developed new systems of graphic notation, influential on music and art of the 60s, 70s and 80s. Feldman is primarily important for his contributions to aleatoric and indeterminate music (also developed by his contemporaries Cage, Earle Browne and Christian Wolff). I think Cage is covered fairly well, and while I would like to see Brown and Wolff covered extensively, I would be fine with undergrads having a more than passing acquaintance with Feldman.


George Crumb - Crumb is taught to an extent, but students should know beyond Ancient Voices and Black Angels; incredibly important figure in American new music; style is without comparison in terms of sound and notation; no one writes like Crumb, but Crumb, new approaches to timbre


Peter Maxwell Davies - Later works are mostly tonal works for students, but he was an important composer in Europe, and his early stage works Eight Songs for a Mad King and Miss Donathorn’s Maggot were very influential on crossover works of music, theater and performance art


Jacob Druckman - similar to Joseph Schwantner in terms of orchestrational color and imaginative use of ensemble timbre, but Druckman encompasses a very wide range of style and aesthetic. He was highly influential on a generation of students (including Cindy McTee, David Lang, Laurie Spiegel, Aaron Kernis, Daniel Kellogg and Chris Theofonidis), and he is a great example of a composer who was heavily influenced by electronic music and the potential of new sounds available, more so than many of his post-Modernist contemporaries of the mid-late 20th century.


Mario Davidovsky - Influential composer at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center, series of Synchronisms for solo instruments and tape. Davidovsky is one of 3 composers to win a Pulitzer Prize with a piece utilizing electronics as a primary component of the piece (Synchronism 6 for piano and tape), the other two being Leon Kirchner and Charles Wuorinen. 


Pierre Schaeffer - One of the earliest practitioners of elecronic music; established musique concrete, created Groupe Recherches Musicales (GRM) which is still a highly influential organization for the research and development of electronic music


Helmut Lachenmann - developed the concept of acoustic concrete, which drove entirely new approaches to acoustic composition


Sofia Gubaidulina - Incredibly skilled Russian composer who ISN’T Shostakovich (nothing against, him, but Russian music did continue after Dmitri…); lots of use of quotation, mixing of styles, use of improvisation techniques, exploration of interesting timbres. Gubaidulina has also received numerous awards for her music, and is somehow still not a household name among 20th century composers.


Julius Eastman - I know we’ve all heard of Glass, Reich, Riley and Young, but Julius Eastman is rarely, if ever, talked about in classroom discussions of minimalism, which is really terrible. Eastman was an amazing performer (singer and pianist) and a brilliant composer whose life and work were cut entirely too short. If you’re looking for some minimalism with a little grit and a lot of depth, maybe put down Reich/Glass and pick up some eastman. 


Pauline Oliveros - Founding member of the San Francisco Tape Music Center and the founder of Deep Listening. Oliveros is a highly influential composer and innovator of electronic music who taught at numerous institutions including Mill College, San Diego State University, Oberlin, and the Rensselaer Institute. 


Terry Riley - I know I just said we all know about Teri Riley, but really most people just know about In C, which is undeniably influential, and is a lot of fun to perform. That said, Riley’s music is heavily influenced by jazz and Indian classical music, and much of his work outside of In C shows that cross-cultural influence, which became important to the ritualistic aspect of cell-based minimalism. Riley also did important work at the San Francisco Tape Music Center. 


La Monte Young - Another composer associated with classical minimalism who existed well outside of that aesthetic, Young was very active in experimental music and performance art, specifically his work with Fluxus. Young’s work was also very influential on John Cale and his work with the Velvet Underground, and helped to pioneer the practice of ambient drone music.


Meredith Monk - Lots of important work in performance art, has received numerous honors and awards for her contributions to contemporary art, music and theater, often works on interdisciplinary multimedia works that stretch genres and has received recognition in the popular music and film world. 


Frederic Rzewski - American composer who is often associated with minimalism based on the surface repetition, but Rzewski’s music contains a level of subtlety and improvisation that is not often found in the classic minimalism of Glass and Reich, but is more similar to that of Riley and Julius Eastman (contemporaries of Rzewski). Rzewski’s music is also marked by its association with topics of social and political activism.


Charles Wuorinen - I don’t think Charles Wuorinen ever was, or will be, a household name, but he’s definitely a composer that all undergraduates - especially composers - should have at least a passing knowledge of. While most of Wuorinen’s output could be defined as coming from the 12-tone and serialist tradition, and although he can sometimes be a curmudgeonly old man, his music is vastly rich and deep, and I feel that it has stood the test of time. Additionally, he won a Pulitzer Prize for his piece Time’s Encomium in 1970, the only Pulitzer Prize awarded to an entirely electronic work. It should also be noted that Wuorinen wrote what was at one time a very influential composition book, and he had numerous students that would later become highly successful composers (Arthur Russeell, Michael Daugherty, Aaron Jay Kernis) 


Robert Morris - Possibly better known in the theory world, but Robert Morris is an incredibly brilliant musician and a very creative composer. His works are not limited to mental gymnastics of serial and post-serial technique, but are full of expressive beauty and nuance. His outdoor pieces are also incredibly creative works that utilize large outdoor spaces and spatialized ensembles to create immersive sonic events. He was also on faculty at Eastman (along with Schwantner and Sam Adler) and had his own flock of dedicated and talented pupils. 


Kaija Saariaho - Arguably one of the most frequently performed composers of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Saariaho’s music sits somewhere between post modernism and spectralism, but regardless of what genre you want to put on it, the music is crafted masterfully, satisfies modernist interests in complex “systematic” atonality (not serial in any way, but not freely atonal) and is simultaneously hauntingly expressive. Saariaho also has many works that are major pieces for instruments and electronics including Pres for cello and electronics, Noanoa for flute and electronics and Nymphea for string quartet and electronics. 


Arvo Pärt - The Estonian king of holy minimalism. Arvo Part’s music is rich and beautiful, but it is also important for being influential in what is now referred to as holy minimalism (along with Henryk Gorecki and John Tavener), a style which utilizes the repetition associated with American minimalism, but with the pacing and mood of choral music, or at least more chorale-like textures. Part is often considered the originator of this approach to minimalism, and his instrumental and choral works in this style are performed frequently throughout the world.


Gerard Grisey - French composer credited with developing spectral composition along with his colleague Tristan Murail. Spectral music was a major development in composition that led to influences in orchestral and chamber music as well as electronic composition (with and without instruments) and film music. In my personal opinion Grisey should be included with Debussy, Les Six, Messiaen and Boulez in terms of his importance to French music and contemporary composition on the whole.


Louis Andriessen - Andriessen’s mature musical style is oten associated with minimalism because of its use of repetition, but it is highly influenced by jazz and simultaneously by the spectral techniques of Claude Vivier. While many minimalists chose to utilize pitch structures related to tonal and modal harmony, Andriessen’s music favors crunchy European dissonance and pitch structures based on the natural overtones series. Andriessen also utilizes odd combinations of instruments instead of more traditional chamber groups or orchestras


Joan Tower - A major figure in the development of late 20th century American music. Tower was also a performer and was a founding member/pianist of the Da Capo Chamber Players. Her music has received numerous awards including a Grawemeyer for Silver Ladders. Other important works include Sequoia, Petroushskates and Fanfare for the Uncommon Woman


Frank Zappa - Frank Zappa is, in my opinion, one of the most interesting and talented musical minds of the 20th century. He never formally studied music or composition and could write chamber and orchestral works on the level of Varese, Stravinsky, Berg, Boulez, you name it. He also wrote interesting genre bending popular music in numerous styles, experimented with electronics (having composed numerous fixed media electronic compositions), he worked at IRCAM, was one of the first people to own a personal Synclavier, and arguably influenced music in popular music and contemporary concert music to a greater extent than anyone on this list. 


Ellen Taaffe Zwillich - The first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize (1983 for Three Movements for Orchestra, Symphony No. 1), first person to hold the Composer’s Chair at Carnegie hall, a massive list of honors and awards, four Grammy nominations, chair of the BMI Student Composer Award (following Milton Babbitt and William Schuman). Zwillich’s music and career should be taught in all 20th century music history courses, without a doubt.


Shulamit Ran - The second woman to win a Pulitzper Prize (1990 for Symphony), recorded by over 12 record labels, numerous honors/awards and five honorary doctorate degrees. Shulamit Ran teaches at the University of Chicago and has been a leading voice in contemporary music throughout the world and her approach to composition is influenced by her studies with Norman Dello Joio, Ralph Shapey and Elliott Carter. This led to a compositional voice characterized by eclecticism of style, harmonic and rhythmic language.  


Augusta Reed Thomas - A talented composer who could be described as balancing postmodernism and neo-Romanticism. Thomas was very talented as a young composer and became a tenured professor at Eastman at the age of 33, but later went on to teach at Northwestern. Thomas has composed for numerous ensembles and genres, has received numerous awards and commissions and is frequently performed throughout the world. It is difficult to deny that she is one of the most celebrated composers of the 21st century.


Thomas Adès - I feel that Thomas Adès’ music is similar to Augusta Reed Thomas in terms of style and aesthetic, and I personally feel that I could not include Augusta Reed Thomas without Thomas Adès or Adès without Thomas. His music also demonstrates his approach to post-modernism with eclecticism of style, pastiche, quotation and colorful instrumentation.

    I am deeply saddened to learn of the passing of composer, conductor, pianist and author Pierre Boulez on January 5, 2016. I woke up this morning (Wednesday, Jan. 6), made myself a cup of tea, opened my laptop and continued working on a Max/MSP patch to run the electronics for Boulez’s Anthemes II for violin and electronics - a project I’ve been working on constantly for the last few days - when I took a brief detour to check the news. The first thing I saw on NPR was an article titled "Composer Pierre Boulez, A Reverend Iconoclast, Has Died at 90," and I was completely stunned. Literally, stunned for a second - I couldn’t move enough to refresh the page to make sure the article was real. After a minute or two the initial shock wore off and I read the article in front of me. I went on a search to find more articles that could confirm the story. I just couldn’t believe that Boulez had passed away.
    I’m not sure why I had such a hard time believing this was true. Boulez was 90 years old and I knew that he had health issues that were preventing him from traveling to various performances and festivals throughout 2015, but it still came as such a shock to me. The music world lost such an incredibly talented, creative, thoughtful, and imaginative musician - a man who is arguably one of the most important figures of the 20th century whose music, recordings and writings will continue to influence musicians long into the 21st century. I have only been familiar with Boulez and his contributions to music for a decade, but I can honestly say that he has been the most influential voice on my career as a musician. 
    My first interaction with Boulez’s music was when I was an undergraduate at Ohio University. His name came up in a history book in relation to his work Le Marteau sans Maitre and post-WWII Darmstadt serialism, but little time was spent on the topic. I mostly knew Boulez as a conductor, and I owned many of his recordings (most importantly The Complete Works of Anton Webern), and listened to them often. When I began my graduate studies at Bowling Green State University I became much better acquainted (figuratively) with Boulez the composer while taking a contemporary music survey course with Dr. Mikel Kuehn. I later studied composition with Dr. Kuehn, and he continued to foster my interest in Boulez’s music through score study, guided reading, small exercises in serial and post-serial composition, etc. I was fascinated by the immense spectrum of timbral color that Boulez could get from both a large orchestra and a solo performer. His mathematical compositional techniques appealed to my more rational side of thinking and the visceral result of his music appealed to my personal aesthetic taste. And, if I’m being honest, his writings appealed to my love of working against the grain and shaking things up. Boulez became a new compositional idol for me, and he has remained a constant source of inspiration.
    While many will remember Boulez as a young polemical composer/performer in the middle of 1940s war-ravaged Europe, I hope that most will choose to remember him for the numerous contributions and innovations he made to the world of contemporary music. Additionally, there are myriad interviews with Boulez’s colleagues over the years (Daniel Barenboim, Simon Rattle, Pierre Aimard and others) who speak very highly of Boulez as a person, speaking of his gentle demeanor and lighthearted attitude. Was he an intense musical figure? Yes. Did he place extreme demands on performers? Yes, that too. Did he say outlandish inflammatory things at a time when he was a young man surrounded by musical pioneers in the center of new music of the world and was basically given a podium and a bullhorn? Yes, but that should all be water under the bridge at this point. With that out of the way, what I have read so far in obituaries and social media postings have been incredibly positive and uplifting and speak very highly of Boulez both as a musician and as a human being. I can only hope that this kind of courtesy and heartfelt remembrance of a great musical hero and pioneer will continue.
    And with that, I say goodbye, Maestro Boulez, and thank you for all that you've given me, and more importantly, thank you for everything you've given to the world of music. 

Below is a selection of obituaries, videos of Boulez’s music and a video tribute to Boulez put together by Universal Edition. 

Articles:
The New York Times
BBC
The Guardian
The Telegraph

Universal Edition Tribute (all interviews available in full on the UE youtube channel)

On July 27, Eric Guinivan (the curator of the website Composer’s Circle) published research on programming trends among American orchestras, specifically the number of living vs. deceased composers on orchestra programs in the 2015-16 concert season. The article was very interesting, and while there was nothing surprising in the data Eric gathered, it was good to be able to apply empirical data to the topic. Here’s a quick rundown of the numbers Eric presented:


          =  Living composers account for 10.9% of orchestra programming
          =  162 pieces by living composers out of 1,483 total pieces programmed in the 2015-16 season
          =  Living female composers is limited mostly to Jennifer Higdon, Anna Clyne, Gabriella Lena
               Frank and Sarah Kirkland Snider
         =  Beethoven, Mozart, Brahms, Tchaikovsky and Strauss make up more than 25% (387 pieces)
             of orchestral programming
​
(Please see the rest of Guinivan’s article for more details. It’s an interesting article and must-read for composers, especially young/emerging composers)


Again, this shouldn’t be shocking to anyone who follows orchestra concert seasons. Guinivan’s research confirms the upsetting fact that orchestras and large concert halls simply are no longer a primary support system of the music of today. The numbers in Guinivan’s study combined with this article by New Yorker columnist Alex Ross (and many others like it) paint a dismal picture of the current state of contemporary music. It would seem that audiences, curators, and now even performers are less interested in hearing and/or performing new works by young composers. But is that actually true? I, personally, am not satisfied with that mindset, whether it is the truth or not.

That said, Guinivan’s article got me thinking. I knew that there are many outlets for living composers - calls for scores, established new music festivals, start-up festivals, touring chamber groups and soloists actively commissioning new works, artist residencies, etc. After making a long list of opportunities and outlets for younger generations of composers I decided to do my own version of Guinivan’s study. I gathered programming information for the 2015-16 season for various chamber ensembles, primarily American chamber groups. I then gathered the total number of living and deceased composers per ensemble. I calculated the number of living composers, deceased composers, male, female, total number of works by a composer and total number of commissioned works by each composer. After gathering this data for each ensemble I made a database of all the composers to take a look at the numbers without dealing with the issue of duplication (in other words, the database calculations would only count a composer once even if they appear on the roster of multiple ensembles).

Then there was the issue of scope. Chamber music is a very broad category. To get a good sampling of (nearly) everything that goes on in chamber music I broke ensembles up into the following categories:


                       =  Mixed ensembles of more than 8 players (8 ensembles)
                       =  Mixed ensembles of 4-8 players (4 ensembles)
                       =  String quartet (4 ensembles)
                       =  Saxophone quartet (2 ensembles)
                       =  Wind quintet (2 ensembles)
                       =  Percussion ensemble (2 ensembles)
                       =  Brass quintet (2 ensembles)
                       =  Vocal ensemble, mostly a capella (2 ensembles)

​
The following is a list of all of the ensembles used for this research.
American Modern Ensemble *                             American Brass Quintet * ^
Crash Ensemble *                                                  Meridian Arts Ensemble +
Ensemble Dal Niente * ^                                       Emerson String Quartet
Ensemble Modern                                                  Julliard String Quartet
Ensemble Intercontemporain                               Kronos Quartet
Great Noise Ensemble                                           Imani Winds * ^
Ictus                                                                         Madera Wind Quintet + ^
International Contemporary Ensemble  * ^        Prism Quartet * +
Bang-On-A-Can All Stars * ^                                  XASAX Quartet +
eighth blackbird * ^                                               Line Upon Line Percussion * ^
Loadbang * ^                                                          Third Coast Percussion ^
Yarn/Wire * ^                                                         Roomful of Teeth *
Quince Contemporary Ensemble * ^                  JACK Quartet *


*    =    ensemble was contacted and directly provided programming information
+    =    ensemble repertoire list and past programs used to collect data; programs subject to
            change during season, full rep. list is used throughout concert season
^     =   ensemble does residencies at schools/universities during concert season and performs
            student works not listed on regular concert season


So what did the numbers look like, you ask? Here’s a short breakdown:
=  934 total pieces by 561 composers
           =   443 out of 561 are living composers (79%)
           =  118 deceased composers (21%); compared to 89.1% of orchestra programming
                       =  36 composers deceased within the last 25 years
=  476 male composers to 85 female composers
           =  15% female composers. Still a terrible number


In short, the numbers for chamber ensembles is totally opposite of what Guinivan found to be the trend for orchestras. The only number that isn’t drastically different is the number of female composers. While 15% is an embarrassingly small number (and poor representation) of female composers, what is important is that the 15% represents a total of 85 female composers. Compare that to a little more than 4 in orchestral programming.

The two graphs below show the difference in programming living vs. deceased composers for the chamber groups in my study and the orchestras in Guinivan’s study.

The following graph shows all of the information gathered in the master database of composers
​

       For this week’s post I want to talk about something that has been on mind a lot over the last couple of years - titles. Composers, and all artists for that matter, spend a lot of time laboring over the titles of their works. I would say they also spend as much time arguing with each other about “good” and “bad” titles, but that's just an observation from personal experience. But it is this argument that I want to talk about here, specifically the idea of “bad” titles. I think this is a subject that should be discussed more frequently, mostly because of the heated arguments I’ve seen - and in some cases been a part of - wherein one party considers a title absolutely awful whereas the other party might love that same title. I’ll try to keep this a brief discussion of my own feelings on titles, what they mean, and what might constitute labeling a title as either good or bad. 

       I think before we can even talk about the difference in criteria for a good or bad title we first have to think about what the actual function of a title is. It might be more useful to first think about the function of titles in other art forms. For instance, what is the function of the title of a book or film? The main function in those mediums is to get the reader's/viewer's attention while simultaneously giving some kind of clue as to what will be unfolded in the book or movie - plot, characters, setting, or something else entirely. For these art forms a title is incredibly important. It not only has to immediately grab the reader’s or viewer’s attention but also has to give a glimpse into the work without giving too much away or being too vague. Creating an effective title for a book or film is really an art in itself. I would argue the same goes for visual arts (painting, sculpture, digital video, etc.). Even in the case of abstract art, the title can give the viewer insight to the mind of the artist or process employed in creating the piece and also help provide context  for the work that might not necessarily be immediately visible.

       But what about music? Music is a different animal than the arts presented above, mostly because it is essentially just abstract sound. Music, regardless of it's complexity and beauty, is just vibration of air molecules. Books contain words and language, which we have ascribed meaning to. As long as one speaks the language of the book they can make sense out of what is inside. Films contain moving images and dialogue, which again create an immediate connection for the viewer to make sense out of what they are seeing. Visual arts, even the most abstract, can have some kind of meaning and context given to them even from a simple association of a well-crafted title. Sound, though, has no inherent meaning, until we give it meaning. We can attribute certain characteristics to sounds - consonant, dissonant, rich, abrasive, high, low, loud, soft - but these terms don’t describe anything other than acoustical properties of the sound. The only situation in which music can really start to take on meaning beyond acoustical properties is when there is an accompanying text. This is still problematic because if one were to remove the text and replace it with gibberish the music itself would not change. By that I mean that the “meaning” and characteristics of the sounds would be no different, but the extra-musical association with those sounds would take on a completely different meaning, or take on no meaning at all!

       So, again, what is the function of a title in music? Well, first, a title is simply a way of naming a piece of music, making it easy to reference whether that is for programming purposes, cataloging, etc. Giving a piece a title is really just a means of identifying it. But that seems like a gross oversimplification of this topic, so let's dig a little deeper.

       I think it’s good to think about the historical use of titles. Looking back to the Medieval and Renaissance periods, a large portion of the recorded catalog of music is vocal music - both sacred and secular - in which titles were often derived from the text used. Moving into the Baroque period instrumental music, cantatas and staged operas became more common. The titles for operas and cantatas typically came from the libretto used, so there is still the text association. Instrumental music often served some sort of function, whether it was for dance, court functions or other rituals. The titles for these instrumental works were often derived from the style or form of the piece (sarabande, gigue, suite, sonata, etc.). That isn’t to say this was always the case. Some instrumental works did have programmatic subtitles, such as Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” concerto. Still, many titles were a reflection of the form and/or function of the piece.

      This practice can been found throughout Classical period rep, but more pieces with poetic or descriptive subtitles (Hammerklavier, Jupiter symphony, “Surprise” symphony, and others) start popping up in addition to the more general form/function and opus number titles. In the interest of time we’ll skip through the Romantic period in which many pieces, specifically instrumental works, were titled with programmatic and evocative titles that gave the listener little or no insight to the form or function of a piece. Going into the 20th century this approach to descriptive/programmatic titles became more common practice, to the point that I would say it’s far more common to see pieces with a “programmatic” title than with a title such as symphony, sonata, cantata, etc.

       So, why has Western music moved in this direction, and what does it mean for the function of a title in 21st century music? I would say that one explanation for moving away from form-descriptive titles is that many works, specifically experimental compositions, no longer follow those more traditional forms. That isn’t to say that composers are not still using more traditional forms, it just seems like a less common practice in the 21st century, and uses of "symphonic form" or sonata form is often a deformation of the traditional formal trajectory. However, some composers, and I’m thinking specifically about mid-century atonal composers, used what seem like programmatic titles but they actually describe the structure or form of the piece in some way. These titles are like a middle ground between the two methods of titling a work (programmatic and form/function). Think about Boulez’s Structures, which is a piece focused on the large-scale and small-scale structural framework of the piece. Stockhausen’s Kreuzspiel (cross-play) describes the registral interaction of the instruments. Lutoslawski’s Chain I and Chain II reference the composer’s use of what he called chain form. This is really just a slightly more poetic approach to form/function titles.

       But lets get back to the programmatic titles, which are really at the heart of what I'm talking about with the "good" vs. "bad" dichotomy. Why do composers choose more evocative titles? Sometimes the title of a composition is a reference to some kind of external element. Maybe the title references a piece of visual art, architecture, a book or short story, maybe a line from a poem. This explains where the title comes from, and in some way should give the listener clues as to how it relates to the music. The connections may be difficult to hear on the surface, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist in some form. The use of these “programmatic” titles can help provide the listener with some kind of mental image the composer intends to evoke with the sounds he or she creates. Maybe the piece was inspired by a work of visual art and the creation of the music mimics the structure of art work in some way. Maybe the behavior of two instruments references the interaction of two characters in a book.

       Still, though, when dealing with music - and at this point I will only be referring to instrumental music with no aid of text - we are dealing with abstract sound with no actual meaning beyond the acoustical properties of vibrating air molecules. I hate to keep coming back to that, but I think it’s a good point to keep in mind. In a way, a programmatic title can provide some level of insight to the piece for the listener, but when the title doesn’t reference a clearly audible element of the music what is the point? Could that title be replaced with something else equally poetic and evocative, but with a different mental image attached to it? I don’t think there is a clear-cut answer to this question, but I do think it is a question any composer should think about if they intend for their title to give the listener some kind of context or insight to the music.

       All of this brings me to the final topic of “good” titles and “bad” titles (took me long enough, I know...). Personally, I don’t think that bad titles exist, and I think arguing over the idea of a good or bad title is kind of silly. I think some titles can be more memorable than others. Some titles are more descriptive of the form, which is fine. Some titles are very programmatic in nature, which is also fine especially if the title DOES evoke the mental images or emotional reaction the composer intends. But ultimately, music (and all art for that matter) is a product of the artist and he or she should feel comfortable giving their work whatever title they see fit. I know that sound overly Cageian and is kind of a cop-out answer, but I feel there is a lot of truth to that sentiment.

       One example in defense of my position is Frank Zappa and the often ridiculous titles he used for his music. Frank Zappa is arguably one of the most prominent American composers/musicians of the late 20th century, and was a composer who made a mark in rock, blues, fusion, experimental music and orchestral concert music (I mean come on, Boulez conducted some of his music). He also used titles like “Lumpy Gravy,” “Black Napkins,” “It Must be a Camel,” “G-Spot Tornado,” “Toads of the Short Forest,” and one of my personal favorites “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Sexually Aroused Gas Mask.” It’s also worth mentioning that all of these titles are for instrumental works. Keep in mind that humor and zany lyrics were a staple of Zappa’s music, so it makes sense his titles would just as ridiculous. But I don’t think that makes the point of his strange titles any less valid. While I don’t think the titles often add anything to music itself, they also don’t take anything away. I'm sure you would never hear someone say "man I love that song, but if only Frank hadn't titled 'Camarillo Brillo...'". And you would be hard-pressed to argue that these titles don’t instantly grab your attention and aren’t delightfully memorable.

       I guess my point here is that, as the artist, your title should be whatever you want it to be. I'm going to go into a bit of a tangential argument, but I’ve had conversations with musicians who maintain that a piece should never rely on the theory and/or process used to create it, and the final product, the music itself, should be the primary criteria for evaluating a piece. I’m inclined to agree with that. However, if someone is willing to disregard theory and process as evaluating criteria then the title of a piece should be the absolute LEAST of our worries when evaluating a piece. Ultimately, a “good” or “bad” title is completely subjective, and it’s a waste of everyone’s time to talk about the merits of a “good” title. I think it's more important to think about creating a memorable or appropriate title. After sitting through a long concert I might not remember a piece titled "Sonata no. 4 for oboe and piano" but I would definitely remember a piece with the title "Fembot in a Wet T-Shirt" (yes, that is another Zappa title). 

       That went on a lot longer than I had planned, but it turned out I had more to say on the topic than I thought. For an added bonus, in case you’re curious, I included a list of some of my favorite titles below. What are some of your favorite titles, and why do you like them? 

Until next time!

Aaron Cassidy    i, purples, spat blood, laugh of beautiful lips
Pierre Boulez     Pli Selon Pli  (Fold Over Fold/Fold Upon Fold)
Natasha Barrett  Racing Through, Racing Unseen
Luciano Berio     Eindrucke  (Impressions)
Joseph Schwantner     and the mountains rising nowhere
George Crumb    Ancient Voices of Children
John Adams     On the Transmigration of Souls
Morgan Krauss    Pallid Tongues
Chris Chandler  Deep in Liquid Indigo
Frank Zappa    The Girl in the Magnesium Dress
Elainie Lillios   Dreams in the Desert
Morgan Krauss    Pallid Tongues
Mikel Kuehn   ...lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings
Brian Ferneyhough   Schatten aus Wasser und Stein (Shadows Made of Water and Stone).
Fausto Romitelli  Professor Bad Trip