Saturday 14 January 2012

Anthony Hopkins the composer

Yes, him. The film star. Not the composer. 

There is already a British composer by the name of Antony Hopkins, so it would have to take something very special to warrant another. Now I don't know about you but I'm not terribly impressed by this.

Leaving the music to one side, a couple of related questions arise from this news: first, is this a good use of the orchestra's money (public or otherwise)? And second, what do opposing responses to the first question tell us about the ways in which people value orchestral music?

My answers are 'no' and 'variously'. 

Any debate in this area is essentially a debate about the value of kitsch, and there are some well-known contributions on this concept, including Adorno's notorious essay. But I'm not going to go into all that just now.

In response to the first question, my basic position is as follows: since orchestras are in part defined by the concerts they give, why not aim a bit (and if if this is elitist, then shoot me) higher? It's not really about the use of public money, because the whole public/private debate is so polarised in contemporary discourse that it lacks any intellectual credibility. Regardless of where the money comes from, we should still ask questions about the value of the cultural forms we call 'the arts'. 

And if one is to push music of 'today' then why not something that dares to speak to us about today, rather than simply being a by-product of our culture? It's not dissimilar from the recent debates on the announcement of government policy on British film. 

Now, go back to sleep Roddy, that's it. Relax. There's nothing to worry about here. Everyone is just happy and swell. Don't get yourself all worked up. It's just an innocent piece of enjoyment, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

What's the context here? We have an orchestra raising its profile by performing the music of a composer bound to grab headlines. This is understandable from a pragmatic point of view because, Lord knows, art organisations (and everyone else too) needs to maximize all income streams at the moment simply in order to keep the show on the road. And let's not pretend that this represents a new direction for orchestras. Ever heard of the Boston Pops concerts? That was 1885. And here in Manchester, the Halle did a similar thing in the 30s. Two things: first, this shows that the symphony orchestra comes in many shapes and sizes, some better known for their performance of the canon, others of new music, others of popular and light musics, and so on; second, the funding contexts of the historical examples were far more 'severe' than that facing the CBSO or any other publicly funded organisation today. In Britain, public subsidy began after WW2; in America it has never existed in the form of state grants. 

Is this anything like the beginnings of a justification, even despite my intense hatred -- yep, that's right, hatred -- for the CBSO's performance of Hopkin's accomplishments? 

I do not believe it is. These historical comparisons might seem clever at first sight and they do indeed show that publicly funded orchestras and the promotion by orchestras of new and edgy musics of the past and of today is a thing of the relatively recent past; but that in itself doesn't logically lead to the conclusion that we should have our orchestras engage in the most cynical of funding strategies possible. Let's face it, the players aren't in this for the pleasure or satisfaction to be gained from the performance. Hear how they strain just to make it half decent!! Isn't this a sign of the ways in which musicians are treated by the culture industry today? In this example, they are like the cogs in a wheel. Is that what we want? And what about the listeners here? 

Taken in context, what we are dealing with is the problem posed by the democratization of artistic value, where the final arbiter of value is the individual audience member or, more properly, what that individual member is worth to the culture industry (box office fee, record sales, audience development, social marketing, etc.). What could be more elitist, you may be wondering, than opposing the idea that when it comes to aesthetic value, 'each to their own'? 

In arguing for the anything goes model one has to be very careful indeed. If, as I do, one believes that in matters of aesthetic experience political reality and cultural forms are related on a two-way street, then the anything goes model is problematic; in the political realm 'anything goes' is not a moral position anyone in their right mind would subscribe to. If politics and culture are related, then this poses questions about our willingness to accept a model in the cultural domain that we reject in the political sphere. To put it simply: should the rule hold for cultural experience? That is another, lengthy debate. I've outlined my position and I'm pressing on! 

Because I view the relation between art and the real world as a two-way street the value of the Hopkins performances is not therefore to be found in the individual experiences of listeners -- the many multiple ways in which people value, enjoy or make sense of the music. Or rather, that's not the only (or final) place it is to be located: to take a view based in Adorno's thinking, value exists in the mediation of the one into the other, of the meeting points between sound, individuals, spaces, societies and so on. In this case, the mediation process is massively unbalanced in favour of anyone but the subjects involved -- the interpreters; this is mediation trying desperately to maintain itself under the weight of the cultural bs being dispensed from on-high. 

Among, then, all the discussion about value there is one thing missing: 'the music itself'. 

'The music itself' is a hugely unfashionable and questionable concept because it suggests an elitist musical knowledge accessible only to a few: moreover, so runs the argument, it is this knowledge which legitimates interpretation and understanding of aesthetic experience (and therefore, demonizes 'other' interpretations). This being the case, I'm not in favour: I am not, for example, arguing that the values of those who hear orchestras as background sounds are misinformed or their interpretations illegitimate. Not at all. The idea of how the music exists in a quasi-autonomous state here is much more complex than much of the polemic for or against the idea of 'the music itself'. But, as recent debates in aesthetics and the sociology of culture have suggested, it is important to maintain some sense of aesthetic autonomy lest the meaning of such experience be limited, as it all too often is, to what one can positively describe about it using words. 

My point here is that we are only told half the story by taking into account the historical contexts of orchestras, the contemporary place of the CBSO in relation to everything else, and the views of various commentators, performers and listeners. Vitally, we are not taking into account the merits of the music in question. 

With the powers of these players at the disposal of the listening public, imagine what could be heard. Imagine how things could be better. Imagine that things could be so inspiring there is no need for us to massage the ego of a massively rich screen actor, as he is referred to. What about all the composers up and down the country who never receive a performance of music, who also have something worth hearing? It is, as always, about the power of the elite (those with economic and cultural capital). There is nothing elitist about arguing against the cosy, manipulative discourse of the culture industry and the hugely important idea of 'each to its own' which underpins it. Unless of course, this is all just a harmless bit of fun.   

Tuesday 12 April 2011

'Why would you not want to feel that feeling every day?'

Well, quite.

Way back in January of this year, on the way back from the rather good Woody Sez 'musical', I clocked an ad for Action Aid, part of a recent campaign to get me feeling good about giving. This morning, whilst listening to Woody Guthrie on Spotify, an advert for Action Aid popped up; the ad outlines how getting involved with Action Aid is good because it makes you feel good. It ends by asking: 'Why would you not want to feel that feeling every day?' Splashed across the ad is the tag line "What a feeling", a phrase that can't help but remind me of heart burn; perhaps the producers thought the cross-reference would induce feelings of warmth and excitement. No such luck for me.


Take a look at the ad and take the quiz.