Saturday, April 29, 2006
A text as a world or a text as a text.
In a previous post, I issued a normative call, directed mostly to my younger colleagues, to profit from what I perceived to be an opening -the capacity to absorb new levels of abstraction- in audiences generally considered to be outside our own "new music" constituency (see "A discipline that leads nowhere is a dead discipline"). In general terms, my comments were -quite appropriately- greeted with no more than a generous dose of skepticism. All of them, that is, except for one. Because when I was so reckless as to suggest what to me seemed rather obvious, namely, that there are fundamental differences between “music-as-art” and “music-as-entertainment”, the pens started flying, the hearts pumped up and the horn of battle was heard in the distance. Apparently, my hardly unique observation was evident proof of an antediluvian frame of mind. To those brave bearers of a progressive, "democratic" standard, there was no meaningful difference: since all forms of expression can be pleasing or diverting to someone -given a particular set of circumstances- they must all be considered "subsets" of entertainment. To think otherwise would reveal an incurably elitist, nay, a positively reactionary disposition. It follows quite naturally that Beethoven's "Grosse Fugue" and Madonna's "Material Girl" are members of the same family -entertainment- differing only in style (and perhaps in quality too, although I fear that even that statement could be construed as antiquated and/or biased). So, fastening my trusted "cilice" around my temples (the thigh is for wimps), I am going to venture another post, one that will almost certainly be taken as confirmation that I do indeed belong to the Stone Age.
I will try to outline the reasons why I believe that there are differences between a work-as-art and a work-as-entertainment. But before we go into it I'd like to make a brief point about "categorization". A common complain is that the question of categorization does not seem all that important. This is eminently true when the object of it is "archival" in nature, when there is no real purpose other than "where do I file it?" This type of categorization is purely practical. But categories such as "art" or "entertainment", built around a dialectic relationship, are relevant in that they define a priori conceptions applied by the mind to sense essential attributes. One of the points I will be making -about entertainment pretending to afford an artistic experience- is one that ultimately has a real social implication: it leads away from clarity and it encourages leaving things as they are.
A work-as-art and a work-as-entertainment differ both in the way in which they are conceived (their mechanics) and in the functions they serve (their proper uses). This last point -the one about "use"- is inseparable from a larger question, one about the limits of interpretation. In essence, if one is willing to accept the premise that projecting any desired meaning into a text is a valid form of interpretation and therefore, that the "secret" of a text is its emptiness, then the distinction will collapse. If, on the other hand, one thinks that interpretation must speak of that which is to be found somewhere (more on this point later), and that that, in some way, must be observed or at least not actively disregarded, then I think one will find that the distinction holds up. (This discussion will purposely not address matters of intrinsic quality, at least not directly.)
Before we go into the matter of interpretation, the real core of the argument, I will try to delineate the two basic concepts we are using. I will leave out the transcendental nature of the aesthetic experience, only because it is both contentious and elusive and will inevitably lead us away from the main subject; art's "transcendent function" is indeed significant, but since there are other ways to establish sufficient differentiation, we will put that one aside.
From a mechanical point of view, in a work-as-entertainment we can observe several tendencies that present themselves in direct opposition to a work-as-art. A work-as-entertainment is interested in its presumed effects rather than in itself, while in our times, a work-as-art is mainly concerned with the process that leads to both work and its effect. A work-as-art means to discover a reality, often characterized by the absence of a univocal meaning. On the other hand, a work-as-entertainment aims at the production of an immediate effect (for consumption use) and therefore it favors redundancy of structure, that is to say probability over ambiguity. It may, and often does, assume the formative procedures of art but its standard is popularity, while in a work-as-art, the individual forms for the sake of forming in the hope that his inventive activity will eventually resolve the laws of the instruments of his art (the obstacles) into those of the work itself.
Still, the clearest evidence that a work-as-art and a work-as-entertainment are two different things is their "intention". If entertainment were nothing more than messages produced by the culture industry to satisfy a given demand there would be no dialectic relationship to speak of. The fact that such dynamics exist is the result of an inherently dishonest process: that of entertainment masquerading as art. To be sure, not all entertainment does that: twenty-four hour news channels are unquestionably a form of entertainment with no pretense to artistic value. But there is a substantial industry that is constantly processing ideas from "art" sources according to commercial standards, redirecting the audience's attention from their causes to their effects, prescribing directions for their use as well as the reactions they should provoke. It is a falsehood designed to satisfy a primitive need to recognize ourselves in the aesthetic experience, affording an escape from the responsibilities involved in the interpretation of art. At the center of this distinction is the conflict between creative thinking and acceptable adjustments, the perpetual betrayal of the former leading to the audience's belief that it is enjoying innovation when in fact it is experiencing a ready-made effect.
Yet, the essential aspect of the "intention" argument is the matter of "interpretation", and that can't be properly understood without considering the dialectics between the rights of texts (being musical or otherwise) and those of their "readers". It seems to me, that in the last few decades, the right of the interpreter -the "intentio lectoris" to use the proper semiotic jargon- has been greatly overemphasized. As it was previously suggested, if a reader is entitled to project any meaning into a given text and call it an interpretation, then there is indeed no difference between a work-as-art and a work-as-entertainment. Mercifully, even the most radical post-modern thinkers (well, most of them at least) would agree that the concept of semiotic drift does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that there is no object to -or criteria for- interpretation; nor that the same is an exercise for its own sake. To say that there is no single objective meaning in a text, does not equate with saying that every act of interpretation is valid, or will be successful. The fact that the "Grosse Fugue" may please and/or divert some listener is not evidence that its "intention" is to please and divert. And I mean the work's intention, because I assume no one will be so perverse as to suggest that Beethoven's intention was to please or divert. Still, some readers may want to assert that the only "existence" of a text is that given by the responses it elicits or, as Richard Rorty would say -and I only paraphrase- 'that its only meaning is that beaten into it by the reader to serve his own purpose'. But even if one accepts the validity of this sort of interpretation -this "over-interpretation"- all one can really say is that its semiotic mechanism is recursive and therefore its limits can't be identified in advance. This is not actually an absence of limits. Therefore, meaning is not the free creation of the reader.
In this context, the debate over music-as-art and music-as-entertainment echoes the distinction between literary and everyday texts, as well as a much older one between those who understand texts as representations of the world and those who see nature itself as a text to be interpreted. The question becomes one of intention: but who’s? … The author's intention? … The reader's? … Or perhaps the text's? To accept the argument that art is but a subset of entertainment -and, by extension, that Beethoven's Grosse Fugue's intent is ultimately to please and/or divert- we would first need to determine that the reader's intention is sufficient to validate that claim, as both the author's intention and the text's internal evidence -its mechanics- would not support that conclusion.
When a message is distributed among a community of readers -as is often the case when we formalize for an aesthetic experience- it is interpreted according to a complex set of cultural conventions. This social "treasury" is a matter of consensus: the message will be read "sensibly". This notion implies moderation, that is, a limit or measure set by a standard, and it is, by extension, causal. Unilinear causal chains form the basic pattern of Western thought, they presuppose a number of logical principles such as identity, non-contradiction and excluded middle, and eventually lead to the "modus ponens". Whatever we think about the virtues of Western rationalism, its pattern of thinking has provided us with a social contract: we can't function in everyday life if we refuse to accept, for example, that it is impossible for something to be X and not be X at the same time (that is, unless you are GWB). The contract goes even further: the logical validity of an argument alone is not seen to guarantee that its conclusion will be true. For that, we must also ascertain that all the premises are true. Basically, these tools, inherited from classical thinking, are what still allow us to form consensus today. If, when confronted with a piece of music -or indeed any text- we decide that the way we listen to it -the way we choose to "read" it- and only that, determines what the message is, then we are making an exception to that social contract. Beethoven's dedicated listener does not bear the responsibility of speculating about what was going on in the composer's head at the time of creation, but he does need to take into account that which is knowable, the state of the musical vocabulary around 1825. The listener may "use" the text in any way he pleases but if he hopes to "interpret" Beethoven's work (and have a meaningful discussion with others) he must respect, for example, the work's cultural and musical background. An interpretation of a certain portion of a text is valid (for social exchange) if it is confirmed by another portion of the same text. But, conversely, it must be rejected if another portion challenges it. Only the internal coherence of a given text can be trusted to afford a chance for consensus by controlling the reader's inherent urge to drift. Otherwise an interpretation will inevitably fail to find outside resonance -to be socially meaningful-; in fact, it will be no interpretation at all, only a reading appropriate for personal "use". If we hope to share our reading in a meaningful way with others, then rigor and discipline are required. Not use, but interpretation. Just because I can laugh my head off while listening to the "Grosse Fugue" it does not make it "entertainment" (it just makes me "strange"). If Beethoven's piece is not entertainment (and I assume nobody will dispute it is art), then that makes art and entertainment distinct categories.
We may use art as entertainment. In an increasingly grim geo-political reality, we may even succumb to spells of laziness or escapism and use a certain piece of entertainment, free of guilt, as if it were art. But that won't make them the same thing.
To quote G.K. Chesterton, "art consists in drawing the line somewhere".
posted by Ezequiel Viñao
6:32 PM
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
The Wall Street Journal Explains It All
Here's some red meat from today's Wall Street Journal. Writing about the recent Los Angeles Philharmonic Minimalist Festival, Brett Campbell opines: "Yet despite the immennse variety of music played here over two weeks, it all shared a rejection of almost two centuries of creeping musical complexity that, by the early 1960s, culminated in the dissonant atonal sounds that eventually alienated listeners."
posted by Jerry Bowles
4:58 PM
More Famous Than Me
Here's a promotional post from which absolutely no substantive discussion can emerge. Go on, try, I dare you!
Please come to one or several performances to celebrate the release of my CD, Less Famous Than You (May 1, Use Your Teeth, UK).
NYC performances are on April 28 at Bruckner Bar in the Bronx (w/Dan Fishback, The Lisps, Ching Chong Song) and May 22 at Cornelia Street Cafe in Manhattan (Frank J. Oteri's 21st-Century Schizoid Music series). I also have performances in England from May 7-13. I'll have CDs to sell at all shows. Please stop by if you can. You won't be disappointed.
Info here: http://www.automaticheartbreak.com/performances.html
posted by Corey Dargel
11:30 AM
Sunday, April 23, 2006
A discipline that leads nowhere is a dead discipline
"Difficulty is desirable . . . canned, reliable difficulty." (Robert Pinsky)
I like Pinsky's observation; it is insightful and rich with implications: I propose that difficulty (understood as complexity), in itself, is in no way responsible for the current predicament classical music finds itself in. But I would also like to draw your attention to the use of the word reliable, which I read as a function of context. It suggests that the nature of the difficulty -its context- is more significant than its degree.
I ask: Why has "art" music lost so much of its capacity to excite new audiences? Why does "art" music in general have so little relevance in our culture?
The past is always interpreted through the context of the present. Unless new art music is perceived as a vibrant experience, there can be no other destiny for old art music than the museum. A discipline that leads nowhere is a dead discipline.
So we must look at new art music for an answer to those questions. If it is not "complexity" that is responsible for our failure to communicate effectively to a lay audience, then what is?
One possible explanation would be that the "surface" of our music all too often has no contact with the sound world of every day experience. There are very few "entry points" for lay audiences to undertake the adventure of new music with us. An essential aspect of concert music is "process" (unfolding): simple ideas that evolve into complex narratives over periods of time. Its fundamental nature is developmental (yes I know, do not cut my throat, there are exceptions). But, by and large, it is music that is more concerned with unfolding a narrative than with projecting a sound world. Yet, a fundamental requirement to achieve an effective narrative is that we (the lectores) relate to the “characters” in the story. I suggest that new art music finds it hard to connect with an audience, largely because what happens during its unfolding happens to characters our audiences no longer recognize or relate to.
This was not always the case. Throughout much (though not all) of its history, art music dealt with musical materials derived from dance forms. This afforded audiences an entry point into the more complex narratives of learned music. What "happened" over the course of a composition happened to patterns, rhythms and melodies that most people were familiar with.
A very efficient balance was achieved during the baroque period when that which developed was mostly taken from the dance practice of the day and then transformed into dense polyphonic works. Yet, however complex those structures became, they never completely lost touch with their dance origins. My brother likes to point out how an 18th century listener confronted with Bach’s monumental Chaconne for solo violin -a piece that was never intended as a dance- would have felt at home from the very first bar because he had indeed previously danced to a simpler, non-developmental, version of its basic rhythm: the move from the dance floor to the music room had followed a more or less continuous path.
But today, even after post-modernism, new music is still being discussed in terms of its "surface" syntax. Technically speaking, the one meaningful aspect of “music as art” that is essentially different from “music as entertainment” is "process": the ability to arrive -after a long journey- to a different place from where it starts. Popular music, by and large, is non-developmental. One can start listening to a "track" from more or less any point in it. One can hear it in the background or in the foreground, drift away and come back to it without getting lost. This is mostly because it will not unfold into new directions over time.
Once the song proper has been defined (usually after an intro), the sound world will remain constant (this is true even for those pieces that are not songs). This univocal aspect of popular music carries both strength and a limitation: the emotional power afforded by stability is achieved by abandoning any possibility to go beyond an already conjured sound world (but note that this is not experienced as a limitation within the system because it is quite consistent with the music's function). Serious art music, on the other hand, often proposes a narrative of radical transformation. If we are going to make sense of its discourse we are to remain hostage: it demands our unconditional attention from beginning to end. You cannot just “land” at any arbitrary point. So the meaningful difference between the genres is in their ultimate aims.
This is why we should never make the complexity of the local syntax -the surface- our main focus of attention. And yet, it remains so; and composers continue to struggle with an issue of only secondary importance while the ship is sinking. At the same time, more or less fringe elements in popular culture (such as "trance", "lounge" and "electronica") have introduced new levels of abstraction into their discourse opening an important door there. What is it that young composers of Western art music can bring into that equation that would be of significance? It seems to me that there are many ways of extending their practices while retaining the "entry points": using developmental techniques, juxtapositions, multi-temporal rhythmic structures and discontinuity of form, while creating large-scale narratives that unfold in an immediate yet non-repetitive manner. Perhaps there is a golden opportunity here for a new generation of "serious" composers to recapture an audience their 20th century precursors so cavalierly lost.
Who knows . . .
posted by Ezequiel Viñao
4:22 PM
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