Bernard Herrmann, whose film credits include Psycho, Citizen Kane, Vertigo, and (his most Romantically charged score) The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, is one of eight featured composers on PostClassical Ensemble’s all-American 2015-16 season. The others are Harry Burleigh, Charles Ives, George Gershwin, Kurt Weill, Lou Harrison, and Daniel Schnyder.
The season begins this Saturday night in DC with “Deep River – The Art of the Spiritual” – a multi-media exploration of how Harry Burleigh transferred spirituals into the concert hall. (To see the entire schedule, click here.)
Binding these eight composers is an “Alternative Narrative” based on my Classical Music: A History (2005).
The Standard Narrative for American concert music starts with Aaron Copland after World War I. It presumes that Copland and others of his generation were the first to create an “American style” based on American songs, American rhythms, American energies. Such populist Copland scores as Billy the Kid (1938) and Appalachian Spring (1944) are seen as seminal. At the same time, these composers are observed engaged in the project of creating an American symphonic canon, hot in pursuit of the Great American Symphony.
Part two of the same narrative, post-World War II, observes a mass migration to non-tonal styles, Copland included. This music (a product of Cold War times) was not remotely “populist.” In fact, it drove a schism between composer and audience.
In Classical Music in America, I propose that in fact there are multiple American musical narratives, none of which takes precedence over the others. I call these “musical streams, all of which achieved substantial results and none of which reached fruition.” In particular, I dispute the assumption that there was no American, American-sounding concert music of great merit before Copland.
The biggest flaw in the Standard Narrative is that, having been constructed beginning in the thirties, it fails to account for the genius of Charles Ives – whose music was not yet generally known. It is now evident that Ives composed Great American Symphonies some time before the interwar composers took up that cause: both his Symphony No. 2 (1907-1909) and Symphony No. 4 (1912-1925) are supreme achievements, mating American vernacular sounds and images with a hallowed European template.
And there are others. Louis Moreau Gottschalk, back in the 1850s, used black Creole tunes from his native New Orleans to fashion a captivating American idiom – music that didn’t re-enter the repertoire until the 1950s. In Boston, George Chadwick (dismissed by Copland, Virgil Thomson, and Leonard Bernstein in their influential versions of the Standard Narrative) created Jubilee (1895) and other salty American cameos that our orchestras have yet to discover. In New York, Antonin Dvorak turned himself into an American, creating an 1890s New World style inspired by “Negro melodies.”
And there is a “maverick” American tradition defined by such idiosyncratic, self-made Americans as Henry Cowell, John Cage, and Lou Harrison. Beginning with stray car parts, they collaboratively created the percussion ensemble as a musical genre. They also prophetically merged Western and Eastern musical styles. Harrison (1917-2003), in particular, was an American master who had no use for the Standard Narrative. He heralded today’s pervasive “postclassical” music, a post-modern phenomenon that chucks every assumption that “classical music” on the European model retains priority as the highest possible realm of musical experience.
Finally, there is a tradition of “interlopers” who have blended American popular and classical styles. Here the seminal figure is George Gershwin – once widely dismissed (as was Ives) as a dilettante. If we can admit film music to this “musical stream,” the towering figure is Bernard Herrmann (1911-1975), best-remembered for his collaborations with Alfred Hitchcock on such films as Psycho, Vertigo, and North by Northwest. Herrmann was ignored by the established non-tonal composers of his day. Now is the time to discover his concert works – of which the Clarinet Quintet (1967) is an American masterpiece somewhat in the style of Vertigo. As a leading radio conductor, Herrmann was an early champion of Charles Ives (as was Lou Harrison).
PostClassical Ensemble’s season explores alternatives to the Standard Narrative. From the fecund pre-World War I period, we celebrate Dvorak’s assistant Harry Burleigh (1866-1949), who was instrumental in transplanting spirituals into the concert hall. In fact, such pivotal Burleigh arrangements as “Deep River” are as much compositions as transcriptions – an observation we’ll explore in “Deep River” – The Art of the Spiritual.
Coming next, chronologically, is Charles Ives, whose Second Symphony (belatedly premiered by Leonard Bernstein in 1951) has yet to attain the canonic status it obviously deserves. PCE’s Angel Gil-Ordonez conducts the Georgetown University in this American masterpiece – part of a PCE-produced Ives weekend also including two peerless Ives advocates: baritone William Sharp and pianist Steven Mayer.
Bernard Herrmann – Screen, Stage, and Radio is a multi-week immersion experience advocating the versatility and ingenuity of a leading American musician still incompletely known. Our series of screenings and concerts includes world-premiere restorations of two classic Norman Corwin radio dramas (music by Herrmann) in live performance, as well as a one-hour exploration of The Music of Psycho.
Lou Harrison – The Indonesian Connection illuminates Harrison’s groundbreaking percussion compositions, alongside Cowell and Cage, as well as his mature gamelan-inspired idiom. (PCE will also record a Harrison CD for Naxos.)
Finally, our “Schnyderfest” explores the musical world of the Swiss-American composer Daniel Schnyder (b. 1961) – an emblematic postclassical musician who delves deeply into jazz (he is a gifted saxophonist), and also mines the musics of Africa and Asia. With California’s Pacific Symphony, PCE has commissioned a Schnyder Pipa Concerto for the pipa genius Min Xiao-fen – to be premiered at the National Gallery of Art May 1. Our Schnyder weekend also includes Schnyder’s takes on George Gershwin and on Kurt Weill (a key post-Gershwin “interloper”), as well as F.W. Murnau’s silent cinema classic Faust (1926) with Schnyder’s film-score performed live.
I write in Classical Music in America: “In 1965 Elliott Carter lamented ‘the tendency for each generation in America to wipe away the memory of the previous one, and the general neglect of our own recent past, which we treat as a curiosity useful for young scholars in exercising their research techniques – so characteristic of American treatment of the work of its important artists.’ Carter’s plaint applies to . . . the streams of American classical music, each of which so little interacted with any other. It points to a pervasive fragmentation, to an absence of lineage and continuity complicated by a late start and a heterogeneous population, by two world wars and the confusing influx of powerful refugees. But this same fragmentation may be read as a protean variety: of composers who imitated Europe or rejected it; who preferred German music or French; who viewed the popular arts as a threat or as a point of departure. To a surprising degree – surprising because American institutions of performance have understood so little – American composers have partaken in the diversity of American music as a whole. It is, in the aggregate, a defining attribute.”
Steve Soderberg says
Joe,
All of your points are well taken (as you will see below, I mostly agree from a different p.o.v.), but one question remains: Why should an ‘alternative narrative’ only or mostly apply to American music? It may interest you that there was a recent thread that opened up in the FaceBook group, The Possibility of Music. This was a continuation of another lively thread that started on PoM discussing Robert Gross’ September 20th blog post, “A Place at the Table for Post Tonal Music” (http://progressivedifference.com/2015/09/20/a-place-at-the-table-for-post-tonal-music/) During this discussion I posted the following, which, in relation to your post here,. might be called ‘An Alternative to an Alternative Narrative, or, Stop with the Narratives Already.’ Here are the nuts & bolts:
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My(?) Big Bucket Theory
(Quoted from: https://www.facebook.com/groups/thepossibilityofmusic/)
There may have been a time when the history of music, and more specifically, the history of music theory, could be handled as a linear phenomenon. Although it seems we are still trying to insist on that linear approach (witness the ‘Manifesto’ which is rearranging the deck chairs IMO), the C20 has shown this is not possible, and continuing to insist on it is counterproductive. It’s not only that the line of history has divided and subdivided into branches that hardly seem related, one can also make the case that there is no longer (if there ever was) a single family tree however many branches you try to graft on. It’s not so much that the linear/tree approach is no longer useful *and true* in limited situations, it’s just that it doesn’t present the real picture of history for music (all the arts) over the past century. While it may appear quasi-linear at times, it is in fact a Big Bucket collecting a lot of related and unrelatable stuff. One doesn’t construct an arts library, add a volume & then throw it out when enough people believe[NB!] it’s wrong or out of date.
This is one of the arts’ most distinctive differences from the (hard) sciences, at least in popular perception. The arts are not truly self correcting in the same sense as (many believe that) science is self correcting. Again, up close it may appear that way sometimes – silly ideas such as 12-tone serialism *replaced* ‘tonality’, or ‘tonality’ *regained control* when ‘neotonality’ *buried* ‘atonality’, etc. That’s the linear approach: it’s fragmented (and easily a position adopted as a career move). What actually happened & continues to happen is that *all* of those things and many more, related or not, appear and are added to the Bucket, whether anyone likes it or not. There’s no such thing as false/true or bad/good replacement. Once thought, they can’t be unthought. But then the question arises, was everything in the bucket all along? And: Do I really have to come up with a common sense explanation to justify such an absurdity before I act on it as I would act on/with/toward any real thing. (My real object is more utile than impossibly Platonic, but another time on that.)
That’s behind my whole idea in experimenting with a plurality of models (or theories or worlds or universes or W’s – I’m tired of trying to come up with a word that won’t stop imaginative discussion at the onset) which, absurdity and Plato to one side, I feel have to be taken as real in order to be ‘inhabited’ (composed-out, taken seriously … among other things).
Here’s the crux: I feel that only by taking them as real can all possibilities be made impervious to the sorts of nonsense attacks that have been going on: even *knowing* everything about W doesn’t grant a license to dismiss it if one has not inhabited it – and one can’t INhabit an UNreal possible world. Thus modal realism – or my brand of it, at least, which is being invented on the fly.
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Robert Fink says
This looks like a great program, and I am completely convinced by your alternative narrative. Does anybody really buy that “Standard Narrative” anymore except some aging composers and their friends? Richard Crawford’s _America’s Musical Life: A History_, published in the same year (2005) as your book, tells basically the same story (great minds, apparently, thinking alike :), giving significant space and time to Gottschalk, Chadwick, Ives, Ellington, Copland, music for the stage and screen, rock, minimalism, etc., etc. He’d been teaching it that way for decades, and this *was* the standard narrative at the Sonneck Society for American Music (now SAM) going back at least to the 1970s.