The Future of Classical Music

Contemporary classical music, which may be called postmodern, is among the most diverse—and enigmatic—of artistic bodies. In a fascinating twist of history, this classical music is now at the forefront of media. The time when a composer’s newest symphonic work was greeted with great excitement from the public is now confined to the pages of textbooks; most people today are interested in other areas of expression.There is nonetheless a lively and enthusiastic culture of composers, who, despite growing disinterest have continued to participate in the centuries-old tradition of European classical music. Though there are many prominent members of this society, I have chosen to discuss two composers whom I think best represent the current scene: Philip Glass, and Krzysztof Penderecki. One is American and one is European; both have developed a distinct and convincing style, and both may be called viable candidates to “direct” the future of music.First, a word on their origins. These two composers and the ideas they represent are products (or repudiations) of the avant-garde that pervaded the clubs of New York and Paris in the 1960s. The “avant-garde” sought to reject past work and (in many cases) replace it with clinical, mathematical, and emotionally ambivalent music: it was a fundamentally rebellious group of composers. Unsatisfied with the “floweriness” and “sentimentality” of Romanticism and the “dependency” of Modernism on the past, these composers sought—like the Abstract Expressionists in art—to create a new, unattached, and “free” music.But, as is often the case, radical intellectualism led to the degradation of quality. These composers became imprisoned in their own search for musical “freedom.” Unconstrained by ideals of comparative quality, they became severely limited—quite an irony. They, like many in the twentieth century, rejected objective value, or good and bad, arguing that “quality” is purely subjective and that standards of quality cannot be imposed. With this in mind, they produced harsh, unpleasant “music,” violent and disconcerted—so structured that it lost structure—that was frequently devoid of melodic lines or any sense of harmony. In a word, their music was not user-friendly.By the late 1970s, a new generation of composers had begun to question the validity of the musical avant-garde. Beyond making a point about the definition of art, these new thinkers considered, what had the avant-garde achieved? In their eyes, it achieved little more than a collection of unmemorable dissonances. It is from this sentiment that our two composers emerged.The more commercial and well-known of the two is Philip Glass, who has been at the forefront of composition since at least the 1970s. Though he may be known to many through his film scores, his serious work revolutionized the world of music long before he was asked to write the occasional “money-melody.” In 1976 he completed an opera, Einstein on the Beach, which definitively fused ruminations of the past decade into a style known as minimalism. Minimalism, though a broad term (one which Glass himself does not like), can be described as the use of “repetitive structures” to express musical ideas: unlike in the past, rhythms, pulses and undertones define the character and plot of this music. Glass would expand on this new individuality, writing profusely in the next decades. Einstein was followed by several other operas; in 1987 Glass premiered a violin concerto which fused melodic elements of minimalism and modernism. In the 1990s the composer produced a number of symphonies and concertos; the Cello Concerto No. 1 (2001) gives value to melody and lyricism, expressing deep emotions while maintaining a minimalist undertone. Glass continues to compose, and recently completed his Symphony No. 9.The emergence of Philip Glass was paralleled by the rising prominence of the older Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki, whose work would also revolutionize the musical scene. Born in Poland under the hegemony of the Soviet Union, Penderecki objected to the doctrines of socialist realism imposed on him and fellow composers: he rebelled, becoming a staunch member of the avant-garde, to the Party’s dismay. Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima (1960), one of the composer’s best-known works, is an excellent example of his experimental style.Penderecki emigrated to the United States in the 1970s, and began teaching at the Yale music department. There, he underwent a remarkable transformation, rejecting the avant-garde he had previously advocated, and turning instead to what is now called neo-romanticism. Neo-romanticism looks back to the nineteenth century for inspiration. It combines modernist instrumentation and mood with Romantic-style melodies and structure. Penderecki’s Symphony No. 2 (1980) is the solidification of this process: in this work, Penderecki employs clear melodic lines, follows the traditional sonata form, and sheds away the remnants of his old style. Like Glass, Penderecki capitalized on his new inspiration; he continued to write in a neo-romantic style, subsequently producing six more symphonies. Old but still enthusiastic, he is currently working on a new opera.It is important to remember that the two movements, minimalism and neo-romanticism, are not necessarily in conflict: collaboration between composers of differing approaches is frequent and encouraged. While elements of the two do find conflict with one another, it is the fusion, or reconciliation, of these elements that composers seek to achieve. The realms of Glass and Penderecki are indeed composed of different components, but both schools share the common goal of progress.So, then, where this is going: I cannot make a clear-cut prediction, but only an educated guess. Art, and the artist, is unpredictable, and abrupt changes to an established order are not uncommon. Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring blew the minds of Parisians in 1913; there may yet be an upstart composer who will blow our own minds in 2013. Given what we know—that the tendency on both fronts I’ve discussed is toward expressiveness and emotionalism—I will hazard a guess that future music will have an emphasis on emotional sincerity. What form this will take on, I can’t predict. I’m glad that I have a whole lifetime to see how this captivating branch of art will continue to evolve.