The Rest is Noisy: Reviewing Alex Ross's History of Modern Music

To anybody with an interest in the history of the 20th century, musical or otherwise, Alex Ross's The Rest is Noise is essential reading.  Ross is a brilliant writer who imbues the confusing journey of 20th century music with

It is unfortunate, then, that this book is so ideologically slanted and fatally incomplete.

I can fully agree with Ross's underhanded dismissal of total serialism, though I fear that his rejection comes from ideological rather than aesthetic motives.  Boulez and company approached dissonance with an exaggerated masculine violence, enough to make the Susan Mcclarys of the world flee in terror.  While Ross's portrayal of Pierre Boulez as the 20th century's biggest jerk is illuminating, 

The biggest error spends more time focusing on Britten's pederasty than Gorecki's shocking and revolutionary success.  Greatest selling... infuriariting to modernists... misses the complete picture of 1976.... 

The term "spiritual minimalist" is as outdated as it is innaccuate... Part/Gorecki/Tavener/Kancheli belong to a school of musical contemplation, not "minimalism."  It is their work, as much as that of American minimalism, which has inspired the new generation of composition students.  It is their work -- even more than the American minimalists -- which has inspired a new generation to once again seek beauty and meaning in their work.

Ross gives Part his due, but does not place him or the movement he was inadvertently part of in context.  One wonders if a man of Ross's moral proclivities would hardly be willing to acknowledge -- let alone laud -- what is essentially a new movement 

(Married to gay director, whose recent film was about a gay man deciding to have a child with his straight best female friend.  Films like "Gayby" are the antithesis of the spiritual aesthetic from which composers like Gorecki emerge, and we should not therefore be surprised that this rediscovery of Christian asceticism in music does not register on his critical radar.

Ross also fails in his brief mention of Krzystof Penderecki.  He could have discussed how Penderecki's strident modernism -- which he describes in his assessment of Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima -- melted into a current style of modernist neo-romanticism.  Yet to do so, he would have to describe how the processing of writing sacred music -- and the finding of his faith -- led Penderecki back towards tonality.  

In general, Europe's journey backs towards tonality -- and the new musical contemplation -- is linked intrinsically with a rediscovery of sacred music and the Christian faith.  This is why it has yet to take hold in Germany, a country balanced on the edge of total atheism, and (as Ross himself describes) the last self-conscious refuge of modernism in Europe.  

Nor does he acknowledge the other greats who have spring-boarded their way to success from this rediscovery of tradition, namely the unabashedly Catholic James MacMillan.  

Going further back in time, Stravinsky's faith -- a driving force in his creative process -- is completely overlooked, as is the Catholic bent of Nadia Boulanger.  Boulanger -- a daily communicant -- may be single-handedly responsible for nurturing a generation of composers who defied academic modernism and forged the path forward which is now being increasingly taken.  How can the woman who 

It is tempting for some to accuse me of griping over Ross's omission of my favorite music, yet there is greater objectivity to be found here.  More and more books continue to be written about the new Christian spiritualists, , and the record sales speak for themselves.  This is far from being "my niche," and more a revolution in the compositional process itself.  

Certainly, if one is being objective as critic  To his credit, Ross avoids lampooning Bruckner, as so many idealogue critics of the past have done. 

In the end, it is aesthetic relativism that ruins Ross's effort more than anything else... Regardless of style, the author clearly shows a preference to chronicle composers for whom aesthetic relativism -- and the often lascivious lifestyles which result -- were a way of life.

All of these things cannot take away from Ross's accomplishment.  I cannot recommend enough that those interested in the history of music read The Rest is Noise.  Yet it is said that the presence of ideological banter prevented his considerable achievement from accomplishing something unique: Ross nearly wrote the complete -- and completely riveting -- history of the 20th century musical journey.  Yet in what he omits, he falls far short of completeness.  Such is the painful price of ideological banter, and the reason that this book was partially obsolete before it was even printed.

Suggested Supplementary Reading:

Rediscovering Beauty: THAT CATHOLIC AUTHOR

Arvo Part, by Paul Hillier

Henryk Gorecki, by Thomas ????

The Polish Renaissance, by Bernard Jacobson

The Pursuit of Beauty

There was a time when Irish monks and clerics held on to the last vestiges of Western culture in their monasteries, waiting for a time when people would once again be able to understand and cultivate their cultural and spiritual heritage.  What level of degeneracy forced these men into a social cocoon?  Are such times upon us again?

The times are so thickly dark that your critical spoon can stand straight up in them.  Engaging in social criticism becomes a more personally weighty affair when you cannot find anything positive to write about.  Recent months have brought me to the question:  On the macro-social level, are we really doing everything wrong?  It certainly appears that way.

I am starting to believe that many individuals choose to live in ignorance in order to protect their hearts.  When your eyes are open and your heart is attuned to truth, then just going into the world can be a heart-rending experience.  True love -- rather than being a vehicle for blind acceptance -- causes us to desire the ideal for each person.  We want men to live informed, beautiful, faithful, and inspired lives, and at the end we want their souls to peacefully drift into an ecstatic meeting with their Creator.  Certainly this isn't too much to ask?  Why can't every man be lead to the truths of his origin, potential, and destiny?

Yet with the sheer difficulty of life -- just dealing with administrative tasks alone can be spiritually crippling -- the urge for escapism can be great.  When what you escape to dwells in the lowest reaches beneath human dignity, the large scale social effects are soon to follow.

***

As a lifelong hockey fan, I journeyed joyfully into the streets of Chicago, happy to be here to celebrate the long-awaited Stanley Cup.  I came to celebrate and soak up the joy.  What I came away with was a sour feeling in my stomach.  While the parade was a joyous affair, it all degenerated from there.  As the masses pressed upon themselves and the alcohol flowed freely, joy was the last thing that people were feeling.  You could see it on people's faces as we inched closer to the main stage -- there was a real tension present.  People pushed and shoved and nearly stampeded at one point.  Many who did not show up already drunk struggled to catch-up to their belligerent compatriots.  One man joyfully climbed and defaced public property, while ten yards away from him some drunken college girls clambered upon a city vehicle, beginning a mock strip-tease.  The shirtless young men next to me yelled "take it off," while I couldn't help but marvel at their shallow, sunken, and clueless eyes.  These people weren't fans, and they were hardly people.  Through it all, the sheer joy of victory was forgotten, the greater spiritual lesson lost before it could even be considered.

Such mass gatherings of people are a good place to gauge the state of a society.  Where do our general values lie?  What is our capacity to experience beauty, victory, and joy?  Can anything be done to reverse our cultural degeneration, or has it reached a terminal velocity on the path to social collapse?

At such times, I am reaffirmed in my mission as an artist.  I cannot be certain whether my music shall find mass appeal or a small niche audience, or whether it will ever be counted worthy of remembrance.  Yet the sheer audacity to follow the certain call of Beauty inspires me.  Beauty has been rejected by the modernists and twisted by popular culture, yet it still desires to be manifested truthfully.

What is Beauty, you say?  It is not subjective in the least.  It is not an opinion.  Beauty is Truth.  Truth is Love, and Love is God.  Beauty cannot be represented unless one is turned in the direction of God.  Some artists do this purposefully, while others -- in imitating nature -- do so inadvertently.  Yet there is no other way to Beauty, because Beauty is the person of divinity.

The creation and cultivation of Beauty is my part to play in this game.  Perhaps we are the vanguard of a revolution in Truth, where beauty, faith, and reason will once again be the ruling pillars of Western society.  Yet if these pillars erode entirely, our society will collapse.  The trial and cleansing by fire will come, as it has throughout history whenever man forgets his place.

The Irish monks truly did save civilization, preserving the blueprints to the pillars of western society.  The world around them was drunken, brutal, and indifferent.  Yet these men retained their sanity, preserved what was good, and prayed for a better day.  Regardless of what happens, we must do the same.