Kodzoquo
28th November 2001, 09:11
Most people's conception of music is of something unworldly and utopian, something that we can escape to when we wish to run from the real world. Literature very obviously deals with the world around us, visual art to a lesser degree, but music, particularly instrumental music, is consistently seen as abstract, by its use of a language that is far removed from our everyday lives.
A handful of composers are celebrated for their political standpoint. Shostokovich's extraordinary popularity rests almost entirely on the criticisms of the Soviet Union contained within some of his compositions. Musically, his symphonies do not merit the attention given to them, but the concept of oppressed composer, subtly criticising the system is a very romantic image that has lasted well. Beethoven also wrote music that is considered political, most famously in the hymn to universal brotherhood that is the 9th symphony, but also the celebration of Bonapartism in the Eroica Symphony, a tribute that the composer was later to retract on hearing of Napoleon's later actions. Overall however, the music loved by the public is escapist and reactionary in character, and composers who deal with social and political issues in some way are marginalized.
Schoenberg's system of 12 note composition has been described as 'socialism in music' and it is not hard to see why. In tonal music there is always a dominant note, with the others arranged in certain hierarchical orders: a class system of sorts. 12 tone music has a liberating effect, creating an equality between notes that can be seen to reflect an ideal of how we might like society to be. The problem with Schoenberg (as later avant-garde composers pointed out) is that he was too attached to the Germanic romantic tradition to drop it altogether, the result being that his use of rhythm, timbre and orchestration hold back his pioneering use of melody and harmony. It is not difficult to see his love of romantic tradition as representing his wish to be accepted in mainstream society, which as a Jew in an anti-semitic world he was never fully going to be.
Concepts of musical socialism came to be important to experimental composers in the 60s and 70s, to Karlheinz Stockhausen, with his pluralistic egalitarian vision in the extraordinary electronic work Hymnen, and to Cornelius Cardew, who set up the improvisatory 'Scratch Orchestra' in London, dedicated to free, leaderless music.
Since the early radical of modernism, a more 'libertarian socialist' ideology has taken hold amongst composers, one that tends to reject the doctrinaire Marxism implicit in Schoenberg's thinking. This has led to the free atonality of Harrison Birtwistle, the gorgeous polyphonic soundscapes of Gyorgy Ligeti and the musical multiculturism of so many contemporary composers, using folk and pop sources from around the globe.
Other, lesser known figures are equally interesting, such as Michael Tippet with his attempts to weave his Jungian philosophy, socialism and pacifism into his music. Of course it is not always the music that provides the political element; texts are used to give the listener a clear idea of the concepts behind the sounds. Berio, however, has gone further, trying to assimilate politics into his musical argument. The 'pluralism' of much of his work is created by superimposing different pieces of music on top of each other, different themes, rhythms and harmonies sounding simultaneously. In his 'Sequenza' series, virtuosic pieces for solo instruments, he frequently manages to make a single player sound like many. In doing so, he has taken the most 'subjective' musical form, the solo work, and moved it from one that celebrates the romantic idea of the hero/individual to one that deals with society and how we interact with one another.
It is the feeling that a composer should not put their personal beliefs aside when they put pen to paper that inspires me in my composition. I firmly believe that every piece of music portrays some kind of ideology or system of thought, whether the composer intends it or not, and that some abstract sense of musical 'beauty' is simply not enough. My new work Many and Always may not seem obviously political. It has no polemical texts, no national anthems to parody, and no oppressive regime to which I am specifically referring. It is a piece that deals with society, rejecting the notion that any single voice can sum up the human experience. The ten soloists play music that constantly overlaps and interweaves, with no one part ever coming to dominate. I have also tried to reflect the concept of gradualism: there are few grand shifts and no concept of progression. Changes happen, not in one direction but in many simultaneously,. The overall effect, I hope, is a not a fear of pluralist society but a celebration of it, with the notion that diversity rather than homogeneity is the route to a better society.
Of course many listeners will not hear, or choose to ignore these ideas in the music. That is fine-we all respond to art in entirely different ways. But whether or not we choose to look for it art is always linked to concepts in wider society, and it is entirely legitimate to create music that is designed to provoke thought, rather than providing the listener with an escape into fantasy. To paraphrase a brilliant slogan of the 1960s: The musical is political.
A handful of composers are celebrated for their political standpoint. Shostokovich's extraordinary popularity rests almost entirely on the criticisms of the Soviet Union contained within some of his compositions. Musically, his symphonies do not merit the attention given to them, but the concept of oppressed composer, subtly criticising the system is a very romantic image that has lasted well. Beethoven also wrote music that is considered political, most famously in the hymn to universal brotherhood that is the 9th symphony, but also the celebration of Bonapartism in the Eroica Symphony, a tribute that the composer was later to retract on hearing of Napoleon's later actions. Overall however, the music loved by the public is escapist and reactionary in character, and composers who deal with social and political issues in some way are marginalized.
Schoenberg's system of 12 note composition has been described as 'socialism in music' and it is not hard to see why. In tonal music there is always a dominant note, with the others arranged in certain hierarchical orders: a class system of sorts. 12 tone music has a liberating effect, creating an equality between notes that can be seen to reflect an ideal of how we might like society to be. The problem with Schoenberg (as later avant-garde composers pointed out) is that he was too attached to the Germanic romantic tradition to drop it altogether, the result being that his use of rhythm, timbre and orchestration hold back his pioneering use of melody and harmony. It is not difficult to see his love of romantic tradition as representing his wish to be accepted in mainstream society, which as a Jew in an anti-semitic world he was never fully going to be.
Concepts of musical socialism came to be important to experimental composers in the 60s and 70s, to Karlheinz Stockhausen, with his pluralistic egalitarian vision in the extraordinary electronic work Hymnen, and to Cornelius Cardew, who set up the improvisatory 'Scratch Orchestra' in London, dedicated to free, leaderless music.
Since the early radical of modernism, a more 'libertarian socialist' ideology has taken hold amongst composers, one that tends to reject the doctrinaire Marxism implicit in Schoenberg's thinking. This has led to the free atonality of Harrison Birtwistle, the gorgeous polyphonic soundscapes of Gyorgy Ligeti and the musical multiculturism of so many contemporary composers, using folk and pop sources from around the globe.
Other, lesser known figures are equally interesting, such as Michael Tippet with his attempts to weave his Jungian philosophy, socialism and pacifism into his music. Of course it is not always the music that provides the political element; texts are used to give the listener a clear idea of the concepts behind the sounds. Berio, however, has gone further, trying to assimilate politics into his musical argument. The 'pluralism' of much of his work is created by superimposing different pieces of music on top of each other, different themes, rhythms and harmonies sounding simultaneously. In his 'Sequenza' series, virtuosic pieces for solo instruments, he frequently manages to make a single player sound like many. In doing so, he has taken the most 'subjective' musical form, the solo work, and moved it from one that celebrates the romantic idea of the hero/individual to one that deals with society and how we interact with one another.
It is the feeling that a composer should not put their personal beliefs aside when they put pen to paper that inspires me in my composition. I firmly believe that every piece of music portrays some kind of ideology or system of thought, whether the composer intends it or not, and that some abstract sense of musical 'beauty' is simply not enough. My new work Many and Always may not seem obviously political. It has no polemical texts, no national anthems to parody, and no oppressive regime to which I am specifically referring. It is a piece that deals with society, rejecting the notion that any single voice can sum up the human experience. The ten soloists play music that constantly overlaps and interweaves, with no one part ever coming to dominate. I have also tried to reflect the concept of gradualism: there are few grand shifts and no concept of progression. Changes happen, not in one direction but in many simultaneously,. The overall effect, I hope, is a not a fear of pluralist society but a celebration of it, with the notion that diversity rather than homogeneity is the route to a better society.
Of course many listeners will not hear, or choose to ignore these ideas in the music. That is fine-we all respond to art in entirely different ways. But whether or not we choose to look for it art is always linked to concepts in wider society, and it is entirely legitimate to create music that is designed to provoke thought, rather than providing the listener with an escape into fantasy. To paraphrase a brilliant slogan of the 1960s: The musical is political.