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An Introductory Note, in a Darker Tone
One of the great Czech composers, Josef Bohuslav Foerster, wrote at the
turn of the 19th and 20th centuries that the composer resembles a
flower-girl selling her produce in the street: she offers to passersby
beauty and relish, and yet most of them walk past her without ever
noticing, and the flowers meanwhile keep withering. I fear that today´s
composer of the so-called serious or classical music faces an even more
frustrating situation. Let´s leave aside for now the question of whether
such a composer has only beauty and relish to offer (for I believe this is
in most cases not so). What, then, is his or her status?
Surrounded on all sides by an omnipresent pop music whose artistic
sights are typically set fairly low and which is characterized by all
sorts of wheeling and dealing and by lack of concern with a true depth of
expression, the contemporary classical music is languishing on the fringes
of public interest, confined to tiny, sorely underfinanced communities.
Many professionally trained composers have already resigned themselves to
this state of affairs and write only very sparingly, if at all. Others
carry on grappling with their condition, striving to break out of the
vicious circle. Surprisingly enough, the question why newly composed
classical music has got into this situation, is being raised by only few.
Some composers – mostly those who tend to regard their output as
avant-garde – remain self-assured, notwithstanding the grimness of the
whole scene, preferring to explain away the lack of interest in their work
by the absence of the audience´s erudition, the conservativeness of
interpreters who remain obstinately set in their way of performing over
and over again the classic repertoire, and occasionally also by the action
of political powers, either those of the past, or present ones. Their
attitude towards the section of the public taking to the huge body of
classical music, from Palestrina through Britten, is not too far from
disdainful.
Now to me personally, this particular section of the audience appears to
be quite crucial. Regular symphonic and chamber music concertgoers,
customers buying CDs with classical music, listeners of radio and
television stations specializing in serious art broadcasts – all of these
have accumulated enough auditive experience to recognize safely, even
without previous professional training, authentic value in a work of
music. To me they are true connoisseurs much rather than being either
snobs, as they are often branded by champions of the popular genres in
art, or staunch conservatives, as they are labelled, for a change, by
diehard proponents of the “avant-garde” movements.
It is exactly this kind of audience that I have aspired all life through
to write music for. Myself a listener to music and a hard-working student
of sheet music of all periods and styles, I have gradually become
acquainted with the complete repertoire of European music – an experience
thanks to which I am now perhaps able to compare one thing or another.
Therefore today I cannot but identify with the listener who loves the
finest works of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven and others, while keeping more of
a distance from a good deal of 20th-century music. To be sure, works from
the above-listed composers happen to be simply better handled, more
accomplished, more inventional, down to the last detail. Their musical
contents are thoroughly lucid, with each facet in its proper place... What
a world of difference from the boundless, essentially improvisational,
often ear-plucking mass of sound of indistinct musical content
characteristic for so much of contemporary production.
Throughout the 20th century, art kept continually experimenting. This
process involved both a noble search for all imaginable innovative
approaches to the language of music, and pranks set on sending up the
audience, an endless chase after novelty without at the same time
consolidating the newly found through an evolutionary step-by-step
sequence; as well as a condescending attitude manifested by composers of
such music, accompanied by medial massaging of the public in favour of
music which was indeed new, yet which was fairly often either watered down
at core or not elaborated in depth, in texts penned by writers whose gift
to understand music was more often than not bitterly inadequate – with the
passage of years, all of this has yielded its inevitable fruits: namely,
ever fewer listeners have been ready and willing to accept this kind of
experimental music. What more, their mistrust has eventually passed on to
all newly composed music, including those works which aspire to deliver a
message formulated in an intelligible, accessible idiom.
The question of applied musical language has been the most frequented
issue in the course of a substantial part of my professional career as a
composer. As will follow from my brief creative biography, I have done my
best to deal with this issue with maximum honesty. The clash between my
innermost “classical” musical thinking on the one hand, and the demand of
a part of the specialist circles for a “modernization” of my musical
idiom, has been immense. In my endeavours for a synthesis of the
groundwork of my compositional thinking with impulses coming from Musica
Nova, I have omitted virtually none of the tendencies associated with the
latest innovations in music. In the process, I have accepted more from
some of those sources, less from others, and there are things I have not
accepted at all... I have seen in my efforts a parallel with that which
was exemplified, say, by Shostakovich in his late output (which I have
listened to with fascination). Of course I have realized that my attitude
places me out of the bounds of many a platform deemed prestigious by most
composers. My reward for this has been a number of fine performances of my
works in classical music concerts, sympathies of interpreters whom I have
respected as the most authoritative professional colleagues, and also,
warm reception by the audience.
Today I have ceased to care in the least about how someone or another will
judge my music from the viewpoint of style. Personally, I consider the
argument that the only correct and viable line of style development to be
embraced by the contemporary composer is that charted by Schoenberg –
Webern – Darmstadt, and onward, to ignore reality, and to epitomize
orthodox intolerance. For where would this kind of reasoning place such
composers, ever more copiously performed, as Shostakovich, Poulenc,
Britten, Gershwin, Bernstein, and others? Does not the fact of ever more
frequent productions of these composers´ works actually document that the
much coveted theory of the “only correct avant-garde” line has failed to
prove its validity in practice? There exist books, compendiums of music,
CD anthologies, wherein the likes of Poulenc, Gershwin or Bernstein are
mentioned only marginally or not at all. Here and there they are
pigeonholed with contempt as uninteresting, problemmatic, regressive, even
possibly harmful to the further development of music.
The above labels have been stuck to my work as well. I cannot say it has
always left me unimpressed, and yet eventually I have reached a point
where I am able to view this issue with a sense of detachment. In my
Requiem of 1991, I set the focus on a quotation from the Ecclesiastes:
“Cast your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will find it
again. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might. For
every deed will be brought into judgement.” In this, I see the
manifestation of a standpoint: Here I am, submitting my ideas, my musical
imagery, in the belief that at least a handful of minds and hearts will be
found who will try sincerely to understand what I have striven to say, and
why I have done it in this particular way.
O.K.
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