Where's Zankel's stage door? I'm already 19 years late for my concert!

My friends Matt Marks and Brian Sacawa have been kicking out articles over the past few days in response to a fairly contentious piece on eighth blackbird’s blog. Topics under discussion include:

1. Is classical music still “relevant?”
2. Is the new “alt-classical” movement a revolution or just a fad?

As with seemingly all art music vs. pop discussions, the participants neatly sort themselves into two camps: there are the High Art Purists, who see a great and necessary divide between (and I’m paraphrasing here) “the direct, communicative power of art music” and “the mob mentality behind all that drivel the kids listen to.” And then there are the Cultural Relativists, who talk about the depth, breadth and variety of their iPod playlists in the same entirely unironic sentence that they all talk about how much they like Radiohead, Björk and Sigur Rós.

What both parties seem to agree on, however, is how important things like “complexity” and “craft” and “classical rigor” are to making great music. Thank God they can at least agree on that, right?

Sorry, but no. Every argument here is jive because the discussion itself is jive. Let’s take a walk, shall we?:

Is classical music still “relevant?”

What does “relevant” even mean here? Relevant to whom? Relevant for what? I suspect that the people asking this question think that the word is somehow loaded with meaning (in the “nudge nudge wink wink” sense) but I honestly have no idea what’s being asked. Is a concert ticket that costs $50 relevant to a person who lives off of food stamps? Is a gig at a bar relevant to a kid who’s under 21? Of course, the answer is no. But is Mahler relevant to a person who loves Mahler? Of course, the answer is yes.

Maybe the question is about whether or not we have some sort of cultural obligation to preserve classical music, either through government funding or corporate sponsorship. If classical music is “relevant” to the greater good of the culture, then it’s easy to make a case that it deserves some kind of support. Suspiciously, the people who fight for this tend to have something to gain by having a wide array of grant applications at their disposal. But can we honestly make this argument in a cultural climate that can’t even recognize that health care is worth government support? Let’s get our priorities straight.

So, the answer to “is classical music still relevant” is “I don’t understand the question, but I suspect you have an agenda.”

Is the new “alt-classical” movement a revolution or just a fad?

First of all, If you love this music, you should work to keep the name “alternative” as far away from it as possible. Alternative used to mean Rage Against the Machine. Later, it meant Limp Bizkit. Is that an admirable trajectory? Today, alt-classical means Alarm Will Sound. Tomorrow, will it mean Bond? It’s very easy (and often very profitable) to take something that gained credibility for being other and monetize it by taking things that are not other and dressing them up as other.

Secondly, here’s a relevant and timely quote on the issue:

The traditional boundaries of genre, intended audience, “culture,” have been so thoroughly crossed that even when you try it’s impossible to take a cohesive stand toward any particular piece of music.

It’s relevant because it was written by Evan Ziporyn, who’s certainly one of the major players in this music. It’s timely because it was written about the current state of affairs. Oh, wait. It was written in 1991.

[Update: Evan has now entered the discussion himself on his own blog.]

There’s nothing new about alt-classical. (There, I used it myself. See what you made me do?) Bang on a Can has been playing this music for more than twenty years. The 90s “Downtown” scene was all about classically-trained cats letting their pop music upbringing come out in their music, and throwing off the shackles of their “Uptown” training. What’s suspicious is that the people who keep asking questions about the “new alt-classical” are well aware of this recent history. What’s the motivation here?

(By the way, do student composers in 2010 seriously still need to defend their pop music influences to their professors? I would suggest that any student in this position needs to consider finding a different professor. There’s nothing pedagogically sound in telling young composers to ignore what inspires them.)

Finally, and perhaps most contentiously, I take issue with the one thing that the High Art Purists and Cultural Relativists agree upon: the sanctity of “classical rigor.”

Like polyrhythms or fluttertonguing, the decision to compose structurally is a stylistic technique. It’s not an a priori foundation for quality. I’ve seen otherwise enlightened composers give lectures in which they defend their pop culture influence by an appeal to “craft.” Who cares? Does it sound good? Then you did it right. Does it sound bad? Then all the craft in the world won’t save you.

The only thing that’s ever mattered about any piece of music, ever, is what it sounds like. Martin Bresnick used to talk about how a good piece of music should make you check for your wallet; you should feel like you got your ass kicked after listening to it.

How it got made only matters if what got made matters. No one gives a shit about your craft if your music sucks. Likewise, there’s plenty of music that makes you check for your wallet, even if it doesn’t hold up to analysis.

So what makes music good? What makes music relevant?

The answer is, “who cares?” Figure out what you like to hear. Then go listen to it and make more.

The Grand Valley State University New Music Ensemble is a pretty amazing group.

A couple years ago they managed to blow everyone’s minds with a series of killer performances of Steve Reich’s Music for 18 Musicians, culminating in a critically-acclaimed recording for Innova. This year, they’ve done it again, releasing a new recording of Terry Riley’s In C along with 18 remixes by electronic artists from all over the spectrum (and world.)

I was honored to be one of those remixers, and even more honored to spend some time with the students in October and November. I visited GVSU, did a little teaching and provided live electronics for performances of In C with the group on their campus and at (Le) Poisson Rouge in New York.

Playing In C at LPR (photo: Hiroyuki Ito for The New York Times)

The press around this group makes a lot of noise about how their Midwestern pedigree makes them such an unlikely success story. Maybe some of that is true, but that’s the sort of narrative that sells newspapers; not CDs.

The real reason they’re successful is because they play the hell out of this music.

Go buy their stuff.

Students at the So Percussion Summer Institute getting ready to play Shifty.

A couple weeks ago, I had the pleasure of doing a composition master class at the So Percussion Summer Institute. My piece Shifty was on the repertoire list for the students, and I was asked to come to a rehearsal and talk about it.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. Heading to Princeton on the train, I wasn’t even sure that I still knew what composers talked about, or what performers expected them to say. Lately, when I talk to groups, it’s about musical tools rather than music itself. It’s certainly not about my own music.

I was pleased to find that I didn’t make a complete fool of myself. I was even more pleased to find that there’s a veritable army of brilliant, hungry young percussionists out there, full of chops and even more full of great ideas about music.

Mostly, what we talked about was instrumentation. Shifty’s weird, in that the instrumentation is partially left up to the performers. The score calls for each of the four players to build a setup using the following:

1. Kick drum, preferably double-headed and muffled very lightly. The tuning and head selection should be appropriate for funk.
2. Large tom tom, double headed and tuned just high enough to eliminate wrinkles in the head. The drum should be unmuffled if possible and both heads should be tuned to the same pitch to avoid pitch bends.
3. Small drum with short decay and high pitch. (e.g. timbale, bongo, tight snare drum with snares off, small roto-tom, etc.)
4. Piece of resonant wood with short decay and higher pitch than the small drum. A woodblock is a possibility, but found objects are encouraged.
5. Resonant metal with short decay and complex overtones. (e.g. broken cymbal, brake drum, Englehart Crasher, etc.) Found objects are encouraged.

Three of the five instruments are pretty clearly specified. The last two are not. I thought this was a cool idea in principle, but in practice the instrumentation has become fixed over time, as a result of some sort of unspoken rule that “Thou Shalt Play Shifty the Way So Plays Shifty.” So spent many years playing this piece pretty regularly, often in front of groups of other percussionists. It seems that all of these other groups decided that this was The Right Way. Then a video appeared on YouTube a few years ago showing a So performance of the piece, and this further cemented this idea into law. I’ve never heard another group play it a different way; the resonant wood is always a wood block or plank and the resonant metal is always a brake drum and/or a china.

Click here to view the embedded video.

It works great this way. It’s loud and edgy and people like it because it’s drummers doing what everyone expects them to do – play loud and edgy.

The problem is, if everyone plays it this way, it’s clear that they’re not really following the score.

“Found objects are encouraged.”

Go for it. Get an old car door and a log and see what happens. The only thing that could go wrong is that it will suck, in which case you just try something else.

The So instrumentation is just one interpretation. It’s not the “right” approach. In fact, the only wrong approach is to not think about it. This isn’t a piano sonata (and even if it was, there are tons of ways to play those as well, even though the instrumentation is specified.)

As part of the rehearsal with the students at Princeton, they played it the So way. And it sounded great. Then they played it using a tiny setup (little drums, tiny Chinese woodblocks, splash cymbals, smaller mallets – they affectionately referred to this as “Pocket Shifty.”) And this sounded great too! It was a completely different experience, but one that’s entirely within the parameters of the score.

The moral of the story is, take some chances. Music grows like gardens grow – people have to do the work. If you keep planting the same seeds in the same soil, it eventually becomes barren.

Clip art question mark? That means I'm a professional.

No, these are things that are maybe worth a little more thought, and seem to be interesting enough to people that they keep coming up. Thus:

Q. Are you still writing concert music?
A. No, but this isn’t some kind of celibacy vow. I’m up for the right project.

Q. Why aren’t you writing concert music anymore?
A. The short answer is that the cost/benefit analysis just wasn’t working out. I found that I was spending far too long working on music I didn’t much care for.

The long answer involves a careful reassessment of the very first minute of my very first composition lesson. My teacher, Ramon Zupko, sat down at his desk, looked me straight in the eye and asked something to the effect of “Do you know what the job market is like for composers?” I said something like “I imagine it’s pretty bad.” He replied “There is no job market for composers. The only reason anyone should do this is because they can’t imagine not doing it.”

For years, I couldn’t imagine not doing it. Then, gradually, I realized that I could imagine it, and that there were other things I could imagine doing even more.

So now I do those things instead.

Q. When are you going to release another electronic record?
A. Well, “release” and “record” are kind of silly words in 2009, when all music is free and even when it isn’t, almost none of the money goes to the artists. My last two record contracts were basically just ignored by my labels after a while; they simply stopped paying me and eventually stopped replying to my emails. These days, I’m pretty happy doing things like remixes, where the money comes in advance and you never have to think about royalties.

That being said, I do plan to release more new music. But I’ll probably look for ways to do this myself, without having to worry about whether or not I’m going to get screwed by drug-addled label managers.

Q. You sound like a jaded, bitter little bitch.
A. That’s not a question.

Q. You sound like a jaded, bitter little bitch. Are you?
A. No, on the contrary. I’m happier than ever with the music I’m making, and I’m happier than ever with my career. Years ago, whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I told them “I want to make a living in music.” And that’s exactly what I’m doing. In fact, I’m involved with more music music now (and from more angles) than I ever was when I thought of myself principally as a composer.

Q. Why did you leave Alarm Will Sound?
A. I couldn’t figure out a way to balance the incredible time demands of practicing all of that hard music with my work at Ableton.

Q. Do you miss playing in Alarm Will Sound?
A. No. I miss the people, but I don’t miss the gig. Again, I just don’t particularly have a burning need to be part of the concert music scene. I guess I miss some of the music, but in the end I’d rather be listening to it than making it anyway.

Q. But don’t you miss performing?
A. No. I absolutely and unequivocally prefer making music in the studio over making music on stage.

Q. Ok, sure, concert music. But don’t you miss performing electronic music?
A. No.

Q. I don’t get it. That incredible moment at the end of a long breakdown, when the crowd is riding every fader and knob turn, their anticipation mounting to a frenzy…and finally, when the tension in the room has reached an unbearable peak, you finally bring the kick drum back in and are rewarded with a roar of approval, hundreds of sweating bodies fully engaged in a quasi-religious frenzy…you don’t miss that?
A. Ketamine is a tranquilizer for horses.

Q. Boy, you sure are a grumpy grandpa, huh?
A. No.

Q. Why did you quit teaching?
A. I teach pretty much all day every day. True, I don’t do it in front of a chalkboard, but I see my job at Ableton as primarily educational. My short stint in academia was pretty fun, but the Ableton opportunity was simply too good to pass up.

Q. Hey, I really like [insert name of track you like]. Can I send you some of my music?
A. Of course, I’d love to hear it. But please understand that there is almost certainly nothing I can do to help your career. I don’t run a label and even if I did, most labels won’t do much for you these days anyway (see above.) Just keep working on it, keep learning your tools, and keep ripping off good ideas from other music.

Q. Would you like room for milk?
A. Yes, please.