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$18.00
With this brave new
book, James McHard pulls away all the negativity shrouding the word
"modern" in the realm of classical music. Through a skilled
analysis of prominent composers from 1890 to the present, along with their
musical styles, philosophies, and incentives, McHard reveals modern music as
the "fully enriched and enriching listening experience" that it
is.
". . . Both as a
scholar and as a composer I want to thank you for the extraordinary work you
have done on your book . . . Your research shows a very original attempt for
the recovery of the notion "Modern" in music . . ."
--Julio Estrada, Professor
of Advanced Composition at UNAM (Universidad Autonoma de Mexico)
Member
of the Institute of Aesthetics, Composer
" . . . Each
composer that you study took the hard route, making music that was uniquely
his own. Thus, not only is your book a lesson in musical history; it is also
a study of artistic integrity and ethical courage. I thank you most
sincerely for writing the musical history of our time and of the time to
come."
--Gerard Pape, Lacanian psychologist
Ph.D., Director
of Studio "Les Ateliers UPIC", the Studio Founded and Operated by
the Greek Architect & Composer, Iannis Xenakis
About The Author

James
McHard
James McHard is a freelance
composer, lecturer, and author on music history. He was educated at the
University of Michigan, where he completed his BS in mathematics. He lives
with his wife in Livonia, Michigan, and is a French horn player for various
local symphony orchestras and concert bands.
His original compositions
include Tremors and Virtuals. The former is scored for ten
specially positioned instruments, taped sound effects (including jet aircraft
and bomb noises), and UPIC computer console output; the latter is scored for
UPIC console output, alone. Both were performed and enthusiastically received
at the Twice Festival of Experimental Music concerts in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Mr. McHard has guest lectured
several times on experimental music, and on mathematics in musical
composition. He has lectured on modernism and its future in music at UNAM (Universidad Nacional Autónoma
de Mexico) for Dr. Julio Estrada’s class in experimental music composition and at CCMIX (formerly Les Ateliers UPIC) in Paris.
 

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The State of Modern
Music
Today’s practitioners of what we
once called "modern" music are finding themselves to be suddenly alone.
A bewildering backlash is set against any music making that requires the
disciplines and tools of research for its genesis. Stories now circulate
that amplify and magnify this troublesome trend. It once was that one could
not even approach a major music school in the US unless well prepared to
bear the commandments and tenets of serialism. When one hears now of professors
shamelessly studying scores of Respighi in order to extract the magic
of their mass audience appeal, we know there’s a crisis. This crisis
exists in the perceptions of even the most educated musicians. Composers
today seem to be hiding from certain difficult truths regarding the creative
process. They have abandoned
their search for the tools that will help them create really striking and
challenging listening experiences. I believe that is because they are
confused about many notions in modern music making!
First, let’s examine the
attitudes that are needed, but that have been abandoned, for the development
of special disciplines in the creation of a lasting modern music. This music
that we can and must create provides a crucible in which the magic within
our souls is brewed, and it is this that frames the templates that guide our
very evolution in creative thought. It is this generative process that had
its flowering in the early 1950s. By the 1960s, many emerging musicians had
become enamored of the wonders of the fresh and exciting new world of
Stockhausen’s integral serialism that was then the rage. There seemed
limitless excitement, then. It seemed there would be no bounds to the
creative impulse; composers could do anything, or so it seemed. At the time,
most composers hadn’t really examined serialism carefully for its inherent
limitations. But it seemed so fresh. However, it soon became apparent
that it was Stockhausen’s exciting musical approach that was fresh, and
not so much the serialism itself, to which he was then married. It became
clear, later, that the methods he used were born of two special
considerations that ultimately transcend serial devices: crossing tempi and
metrical patterns; and, especially, the concept that treats pitch and timbre
as special cases of rhythm. (Stockhausen referred to the crossovers as
"contacts", and he even entitled one of his compositions that
explored this realm Kontakte.) These gestures, it turns out, are
really independent from serialism in that they can be explored from
different approaches.
The most spectacular approach
at that time was serialism, though, and not so much these (then-seeming)
sidelights. It is this very approach -- serialism -- however, that after
having seemingly opened so many new doors, germinated the very seeds of
modern music’s own demise. The method is highly prone to mechanical
divinations. Consequently, it makes composition easy, like following a
recipe. In serial composition, the less thoughtful composer seemingly can
divert his/her soul away from the compositional process. Inspiration can be
buried, as method reigns supreme. The messy intricacies of note shaping, and
the epiphanies one experiences from necessary partnership with one’s
essences (inside the mind and the soul -- in a sense, our familiars)
can be discarded conveniently. All is rote. All is compartmentalized. For a
long time this was the honored method, long hallowed by classroom teachers
and young composers-to-be, alike, at least in the US. Soon, a sense of
sterility emerged in the musical atmosphere; many composers started to
examine what was taking place.
The replacement of
sentimental romanticism with atonal music had been a crucial step in the
extrication of music from a torpid cul-de-sac. A music that would closet
itself in banal self-indulgence, such as what seemed to be occurring with
romanticism, would decay. Here came a time for exploration. The new
alternative --atonality -- arrived. It was the fresh, if seemingly harsh,
antidote. Arnold Schönberg had saved music, for the time being. However,
shortly thereafter, Schönberg made a serious tactical faux pas. The
‘rescue’ was truncated by the introduction of a method by which
the newly freed process could be subjected to control and order! I have to
express some sympathy here for Schönberg, who felt adrift in the sea of
freedom provided by the disconnexity of atonality. Large forms depend upon
some sense of sequence. For him a method of ordering was needed. Was
serialism a good answer? I’m not so certain it was. Its introduction
provided a magnet that would attract all those who felt they needed explicit
maps from which they could build patterns. By the time Stockhausen and
Boulez arrived on the scene, serialism was touted as the cure for all
musical problems, even for lack of inspiration!
Pause for a minute and think
of two pieces of Schönberg that bring the problem to light: Pierrot
Lunaire, Op. 21 (1912 – pre-serial atonality) and the Suite,
Op. 29 (1924 serial atonality). Pierrot… seems so vital,
unchained, almost lunatic in its special frenzy, while the Suite
sounds sterile, dry, forced. In the latter piece the excitement got lost.
This is what serialism seems to have done to music. Yet the attention it
received was all out of proportion to its generative power. Boulez once even
proclaimed all other composition to be "useless"! If the ‘disease’
--serialism --was bad, one of its 'cures' --free chance --was worse. In a
series of lectures in Darmstadt, Germany, in 1958, John Cage managed to
prove that the outcome of music written by chance means differs very
little from that written using serialism. However, chance seemed to leave
the public bewildered and angry. Chance is chance. There is nothing on which
to hold, nothing to guide the mind. Even powerful musical personalities,
such as Cage’s, often have trouble reining in the raging dispersions and
diffusions that chance scatters, seemingly aimlessly. But, again, many
schools, notably in the US, detected a sensation in the making with the
entry of free chance into the music scene, and indeterminacy became a new
mantra for anyone interested in creating something, anything, so long
as it was new.
Continued ...........
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